Forty Thousand Dollars and the Deed to Maple Avenue Bakery

Arthur turned the focus wheel slightly to sharpen the signature line at the bottom of the page. The name was written in a sharp, slanting cursive that I recognized instantly from old holiday cards that used to arrive from Cleveland.

“Richard Gentry,” Arthur said.

The name of Clara’s ex-husband seemed to hang in the damp air between us, colder than the continue reading …