Brittle Nails and a Disputed Greenhouse in Autumn

the end of his blue wool tie, his eyes narrowed against the glare of the window.

“He offered to do it for nothing, Martha,” Donald said, his voice clipped and dry.

“Well now, nothing in this life is free, Donald, least of all from your brother,” I said, setting the tea kettle on the stove.

“He is family,” Donald said. “Family steps up.continue reading …