Six Sisters and the Blue Ledger on Oak Street

in the whole block, Clara?” Mrs. Gable asked, adjusting her glasses.

“No, dear,” I said, holding a dry towel. “It is just us.”

The water from the tap in the back sink slowed to a thin, muddy trickle and then stopped. I had already rung up Mrs. Gable’s twenty-eight-dollar manicure on the pad, but I had to void the transaction.

Beatrice continue reading …