Golden Honey Jars on a Sunny Counter in Sweetwater

reached into the basket and began packing the jars. I placed three of the real clover jars on one side, and three of the thin, corn-syrup batches on the other.

The glass clicked softly as I pulled the wool cloth over them.

By ten o’clock the next morning, Harold Vance’s white sedan was kicking up gravel as it turned into our driveway. He parked near continue reading …