Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

synergy for the family holdings.”

Donald took off his gold-rimmed spectacles and began polishing them with the wide end of his blue wool tie. He did not look at me.

“Makes sense,” Donald said. “Saves trouble later.”

I passed the basket of rolls, keeping my thumbs tucked under the cloth napkin to hide the split nails. My fingers throbbed with a dull, constant continue reading …