“You’re Just a Baker,” My Sister Screamed—The Next Time They Heard My Name, It Was on a Tokyo Flagship

up in a Beacon Hill brownstone, the kind tourists photograph for Instagram—gas lamps, brick sidewalks, flower boxes with perfect geraniums. My parents, Brian and Margaret, loved saying “Our family’s been in Boston for generations,” even though the reality was my grandfather bought property cheap in the seventies and got lucky when the neighborhood continue reading …