Six Sisters and the Blue Ledger on Oak Street

morning chill.

“I will speak to her at the salon this afternoon,” I said, tucking the bills into my canvas bag.

“We cannot let the customers find the phones dead.”

“Keep your eyes on the bank statements, Clara,” Harriet said, her pen poised over a column of figures.

I carried the bills into the Oak Street Salon breakroom at one o’clock, the familiar sound continue reading …