Golden Honey Jars on a Sunny Counter in Sweetwater

“Mabel, we can work this out,” Arthur said, his voice thin. “The bank is going to call the loan if we don’t deliver the autumn batches to the Atlanta markets next week.”

“Then they’ll call it,” I said. “But we won’t sell another jar of sugar to people who trust our name.”

Arthur did not answer. He looked down at the pale glass jar he was still holding continue reading …