Six Sisters and the Blue Ledger on Oak Street

white bakery box sat on the counter, smelling of butter and sugar, while the rain began to patter against the front window.

By two o’clock, the rain had stopped, and I found myself sitting in Diana’s living room.

The room smelled of expensive peach potpourri, and Diana, my fifty-seven-year-old sister, was busy arranging her large, colorful silk scarves continue reading …