She went to the bakery alone on a Tuesday.
Not planned — she was in Queens for a meeting with the law firm's local counsel and found herself walking in the direction of the old neighborhood without deciding to. Her feet knew the route better than her mind did. Six blocks from the subway. Left on Merrick. Right on the smaller street that had always smelled like someone's cooking regardless of the hour.
The site was mid-renovation now.
Phil had sent weekly photo updates — she'd looked at them on her phone, understood intellectually that things were progressing. Seeing it in person was different. The front was partially scaffolded, the interior visible through the unfinished window frame — bare walls being replastered, the counter taking shape along the east side exactly where her father h
