Forty Thousand Dollars and the Deed to Maple Avenue Bakery

Clara,” I said, my voice steady.

She did not stop kneading, but her shoulders went rigid. “Arthur should have kept his mouth shut.”

“He was trying to help,” I said. “We both are. Why did you not tell me about Richard?”

Clara stopped her hands mid-press, her palms flat against the pale dough. “Because it was my mistake to make, Evelyn. I was not going continue reading …