Forty Thousand Dollars and the Deed to Maple Avenue Bakery

I parked my blue Buick in the visitor lot, the engine ticking as it cooled.

Inside, the county treasurer’s office smelled of old paper and industrial floor wax. Mrs. Gable, the deputy treasurer, sat behind a high oak counter with a stack of manila folders.

“We cannot grant another extension, Evelyn,” she said, not looking up from her continue reading …