Golden Honey Jars on a Sunny Counter in Sweetwater

shoulders despite the afternoon warmth. She did not wait for me to reach her before she opened her car door, her face pale under her straw hat.

“Mabel,” Evelyn said, her quiet schoolteacher voice sounding thinner than usual. “The county office called me ten minutes ago.”

“About the honey?” I asked, stopping by the fender of her car.

“The health inspector continue reading …