Emma Signed Over Her Kitchen Island to Keep Toby Safe in Massachusetts

stepping onto the porch. “The bakery by the turnpike had them fresh.”

“Set them inside,” I said, rising to open the screen door. “The tea is already hot.”

Clara stood in the center of our small kitchen, her coat still buttoned to her chin as she looked around the room. The pine floorboards were clean, showing the wear of sixty years of families who continue reading …