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

Clara.”

Beatrice took the box, her touch so light I barely felt it. She opened the latch with a tiny click, her face softening as she looked at the faded black-and-white photograph of our mother inside.

“I am moving to Oregon, Martha,” Beatrice whispered, keeping her head bowed. “My daughter has a spare room in Portland, and she needs continue reading …