PART 3 The courthouse smelled like wet coats, old paper, and coffee that had been burned for too many hours.

earning it.”

He nodded.

“I will.”

That night, after everyone left, Savannah remained in the old bakery alone for a few minutes.

The lights were low.

The air smelled faintly of sugar and memory.

She stood before the first oven and placed one hand on the glass.

Sixteen years earlier, she had been in a hospital bed with an envelope on her blanket, believing continue reading …