Forty Thousand Dollars and the Deed to Maple Avenue Bakery

always smelled of old paper and linseed oil. A green shaded lamp cast a dull glow over the heavy wooden counter.

The clerk behind the counter, a woman named Martha who had gone to high school with my late sister Beatrice, looked up from her computer screen. “Evelyn. I did not expect to see you twice in one month.”

“I need to check the title on the Maple continue reading …