Golden Honey Jars on a Sunny Counter in Sweetwater

“Mabel,” Arthur said, his words coming in his usual quick rush. “We have three more grocery orders to prep for the weekend delivery.”

“We are not delivering those jars, Arthur,” I said, closing the door behind me.

He stopped his thumb on the paper slips, his eyes narrowing as he looked up. “What are you talking about? We have a contract.”