“Stop overreacting, you’re ruining her day!” my mother hissed, grabbing my hair and pushing me over the balcony railing at my sister’s party. I blacked out. When I woke up, the upscale venue was surrounded by federal agents, and my mother was sobbing on her knees while my sister held a document and begged me…

enough to bridge the chasm.

Six months later, Boston was draped in the glittering, icy magic of the Christmas season. The streets were lined with warmly lit evergreens, and the air smelled of roasting chestnuts and incoming snow.

Inside La Maison d’Or, the heat of the ovens was a comforting embrace against the winter chill. The line of customers stretched continue reading …