“Yes, Harry, I will get you the wine list.” Selene was slowly making her way towards Lower Manhattan, balancing a bag of baked goods in one hand and her phone, pressed to her ear, in another.

“Nothing older than…”

“1990. I remember.”

Selene heard the quiet laughter from her brother, who had called her just a minute ago, all nervous and stressed from his first official week as the “big boss” of their shop.

“And ...