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

the cash register since nineteen eighty-four, its leather cover worn smooth at the corners. It contained thirty years of daily sales, written in our mother’s hand, then Clara’s, then mine, tracking every holiday rush and every quiet summer.

“Why do you want that?” I asked.

“Our mother’s handwriting is on the first three pages,” Clara said, looking down continue reading …