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

gold locket, the engraving of the wild rose still sharp on the lid.

“I want you to have this now,” I said, holding it out to her.

Beatrice stared at the box, her fingers catching on the rough canvas of her apron. “Martha, that belongs in the safe.”

“It belongs to the oldest daughter,” I said. “I only ask that you do not sell your share of the bakery to continue reading …