If I had to pinpoint a time, it happened that summer when the west wind came and the heat descended like a plague. It didn’t make the books, but it wedged in me, became my barometer for real heat.
I was living with my grandmother and working for the first time. The job was at a small local bakery near her summer home. Like most first jobs, it wasn’t much. I worked mostly in the back, putting things in the oven and taking them out when they were ready. I weeded out the uglies and the extra crispies and passed the good ones on. I kept track of production and did inventory, counting pallets of butter, sugar, icing sugar, flour.