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

but my fingers refused to bend. The joints in my knuckles were thick and hot, stiffened by the autumn chill that always settled deep into the stone walls before dawn.

I reached for the metal bowl, but my grip slipped, the rim clattering against the maple wood with a sharp ring that echoed in the empty room.

Sarah, the young home baker who had purchased continue reading …