Forty Thousand Dollars and the Deed to Maple Avenue Bakery

end, their voices muffled by the high ceiling.

“Evelyn,” Clara said, stopping near a wooden bench. “How did you know about the sifter?”

“Beatrice told me once, the year we bought the new oven,” I said. “She said if we ever lost the paperwork, the foundation of the house was in the kitchen.”

Clara looked down at her silver watch, then continue reading …