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

A clean white apron hung from her waist, spotless compared to mine, which was covered in flour dust and yellow egg yolk smudges.

“You left the keys in the back door again,” I said, holding them up so they clinked together over the glass display case.

Clara did not look up from her notepad. She paused, her blue pen hovering over the continue reading …