Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

at me, his eyes small behind the clean lenses. “You sure, Martha?”

“I am certain,” I said, though my voice sounded thinner than I wanted.

Robert tapped his signet ring twice on the wood. “Let us not get bogged down in administrative noise during a family dinner.”

“It is sixty-four dollars for a box of organic fertilizer we cannot afford to waste on canceled continue reading …