Three Sisters Divided Over a Limestone Bakery Built in Nineteen Sixty-Eight

reserves to fund that check?” I asked.

Beatrice looked down, her silence more loud than any answer she could have spoken.

“I need to go,” I said, picking up the paper from the table.

“Martha, please,” Beatrice whispered, reaching her hand out across the flour dust, but she did not step forward to follow me.

I walked out the back door, leaving the vanilla continue reading …