Forty Thousand Dollars and the Deed to Maple Avenue Bakery

speak, the brass bell above the front door jingled.

Frank Miller stepped inside, his large frame filling the doorway. His booming voice echoed in the empty shop as he shook the autumn dampness from his coat.

“Good evening, ladies,” Frank said, tapping his leather portfolio against his thigh. “I was hoping I would catch you before you closed up for the continue reading …