Old Man Miller looked up from a ledger, his spectacles sliding down a nose that had seen eighty winters. He knew the look on Silas’s face. It was the look of a man tasked with a mission by a wife who didn't accept excuses.
The heavy oak door of Miller’s General Store creaked, announcing Silas before he even stepped inside. It was three days before Christmas, and the air in the valley smelled of woodsmoke and impending snow. Silas wasn't there for flour or ammunition; he was there for the centerpiece of the year. where to buy spiral ham
As he walked to the counter, he passed young Leo, who was staring at a display of oranges. Old Man Miller looked up from a ledger,
Silas chuckled, placing the gold-wrapped ham on the counter. "Your grandad's right, Leo. But some things are worth making easier. This ham here? It means more time for stories and less time at the cutting board." The heavy oak door of Miller’s General Store
"The hams are in the back, Silas," Miller grunted, pointing a gnarled finger toward the cold room. "Honey-glazed and hickory-smoked. Pre-sliced, just the way Martha likes 'em so she doesn't have to wrestle with the carving knife."
"My grandad says in the old days, you had to slice the meat yourself," Leo said, eyes wide. "He says if you slipped, you’d lose a finger before you tasted the glaze."