Six Sisters and the Blue Ledger on Oak Street

think about it when the winter utility bills arrived,” I said, a small smile showing on my face. “But she cannot come back to the salon.”

Gene nodded, her pencil tapping twice against the oilcloth table.

“The building is safe, Clara,” she said.

“Yes,” I said, standing up to put the teacups in the sink. “But the salon feels larger now.”

“It is just the continue reading …