Call me Pinky. My pregnant wife slipped on some afterbirth and fell down the stairs of our Napa Valley bungalow. When she gave birth to our son, William Fontaine III, he had a dent the shape of Mississippi in his forehead. That’s where his grand-pappy, his namesake, is from. We considered it a miracle. What’s
Franny always said our pastries had the consistency of dried paper mache. At night we’d wrap the leftovers and leave them outside for the homeless. Not even raccoons would go near those things. One by one we had to let our staff go. We consulted a financial advisor, who said our best course of action
I always find Kendra by the corgi pen in the courtyard at lunch. We have two hundred square feet of mulch and rubber for the pups to run around down there. The corgis were donated by a local animal shelter after they went belly-up during citywide budget cuts. In December our phones went off the
