Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

with a mix of anger and relief.

“Why would my brother-in-law want our inventory sitting in a cold warehouse?” I asked, looking at the faded pink slip in my hand.

Arnie shrugged, shifting his weight. “He just said it was family business, and I did not ask questions because he has that gold ring and talks like he owns the place.”

I looked continue reading …