Forty Thousand Dollars and the Deed to Maple Avenue Bakery

I closed the blue cover and set the small brass weight on top of it to keep the draft from fluttering the pages.

The kitchen was cold at five in the morning, the kind of deep, quiet chill that settled into the flour bins and the thick maple prep tables before the ovens were lit. I reached for my heavy linen apron, the one with the continue reading …