KNOW NOTHING, by C. M. SurrisiMakiline Price was a quiet woman who lived her life in and above her shop, the Olde World Bakery. My mother whispered to me that she was a “war bride from Poland,” and, “It was a downright shame that Oren Price brought her all the way here, then up and died. She ought to go back to Warsaw. She’d be happier.” I don’t think my mother appreciated that, back in Warsaw, people were still struggling against post-war corruption.
Thirty years later, Makiline Price disappeared. It may have been to a better Warsaw.
As a boy, I was drawn to the Olde World Bakery by the smells and to Makiline by her crinkly-eyed smile. It may also have been because she gave me one free treat every time I went in. I always picked a slice of makowiec.
“Mak-ov-yetz,” she made me repeat.
