Golden Honey Jars on a Sunny Counter in Sweetwater

the instrument up to his eye, pointing it toward the morning sun.

“It is reading twenty-four percent,” David said, his voice flat. “That is not honey, Mabel. Real honey never holds that much water without fermenting in the jar.”

My heart sank, though I had known the answer before he even looked.

The local library smelled of old paper continue reading …