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

apron hem up to polish her glasses, her hands trembling slightly in the dim dining room light.

“Beatrice, tell her,” I said.

“Tell her we need to see the receipts.”

“I just want us to have peace, Martha,” Beatrice whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the refrigerator.

“Peace does not pay the property taxes,” I said.

“The business needs structure,continue reading …