The Apron Pocket
I did not answer him. I did not need to. Margaret Chen, standing beside me in a sequined green gown, still holding my hand, turned to the boss of Bradley …
The Apron Pocket Read MoreBlog
The Red Tin
I took the card from her hand, and I held it to my chest. It was the blueberry buckle, written in the round, slanting pencil of my grandmother, with a …
The Red Tin Read MoreThe Owasco Fog
I rose from my folding chair, which took some doing, and took the painting from her hands. It was the Owasco Lake, in fog, the one I had painted the …
The Owasco Fog Read MoreThe Red Lightning
I came down the porch steps, one hand on the rail, and took the rug from her arms. It was the red lightning pattern, the one my grandmother used to …
The Red Lightning Read MoreThe Wooden Ducks
I stood up from my lawn chair. My back cracked like a dry branch. The man in the Orvis vest was holding the pintail so carefully that you would have …
The Wooden Ducks Read MoreThe Bluebird Pitcher
The man in the Royals cap held the sunflower plate up to the light, between his thumb and forefinger, as if he were checking a bill for forgery. He was …
The Bluebird Pitcher Read MoreThe Plum Crate
“Yes, Lisa, I am his mother,” I said, “and I have never lived in Arizona in my life.” I took the old plum crate out of the hands of her …
The Plum Crate Read MoreThe Fake Letterhead
“I know a forged letterhead when I see one, Craig,” I said, and I held the letter from the doctor up to the window so the afternoon light came through …
The Fake Letterhead Read MoreThe Galley Drawer
“I mean the lake, son,” I said, and I set the old brass dock key on the teak table, beside the champagne bucket. “We are on my signature. Anywhere we …
The Galley Drawer Read MoreThe Pruning Shears
“I know, son,” I said, and I laid the pruning shears across the white tablecloth, the old ones with the wooden handles worn pale by fifty years of my hands. …
The Pruning Shears Read More