Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

but he paused, his fingers resting on the rough, unglazed lip of the clay pot.

“It is thirty miles away,” he said.

“Well now, thirty miles is a short drive to keep a clean record,” I said.

“She is young,” Donald said, his voice clipping the words short as he resumed his work. “She has time to learn how to keep her nose out of other people’s business.continue reading …