Forty Thousand Dollars and the Deed to Maple Avenue Bakery

picked up, rattling the loose pane in my living room window with a persistent, dry chatter. Arthur sat on the sofa, his leather briefcase open on his knees, while the old title history documents lay scattered across the coffee table.

“She was trying to protect the bakery from him,” I said, setting a tray with two mugs of tea on the continue reading …