from her garden.
“I wanted to say I am sorry, Martha,” she said, looking down at the cake instead of looking me in the eye. “I have been sharp with you lately, and it was not right of me to lose my temper over the ledger. We both want what is best for the shop.”
I held my flour-dusted hands against my apron, my arthritic knuckles throbbing from the damp continue reading …