Yellow Ceramic Mug and Red Silk Scarf in a Red Buick

a high, thin screech.

“It is good, Nicole,” he said.

“I used the peaches from the orchard down the road,” Nicole said, her fingers drumming briefly on the polished mahogany of the chair arm. “The ones you always liked, Clara. I want us to be on the same page again.”

I swallowed a small bite of the sweet fruit, though it felt dry in my throat. I smiled continue reading …