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

was hot and black, costing me two dollars a bag to brew, but neither of us took a drink right away.

“Clara called me from the motel in Terre Haute,” Beatrice said, her fingers tracing the rim of her mug. “She said she is going to manage a small retail shop there.”

“Did she ask for anything?” I asked.

“No,” Beatrice said. She reached into her coat pocket continue reading …