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

gold locket, its thin chain tangled around her fingers like a dead spider. “I cannot keep this, Martha,” Beatrice whispered, her voice barely louder than the hum of my refrigerator.

She set the gold locket on the table, right on top of the tax bill. I did not reach for it.

“You promised you would not sell your share to Clara,” I said.

Beatrice took off continue reading …