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it?”

Taking another bite, I replied, “It’s pretty easy. I soak the meat in vinegar overnight. Then I salt it with coarse salt. Add a little coriander and hang it up to dry. Wait a couple weeks and you’ve got jerky.”

He eyed the piece of meat in his hand. “This stuff has been hanging here for a couple of weeks?”

“Not quite,” I replied. “The longer you leave it, the drier it gets. I like it like this.”

He pointed at me with the piece of meat. “If this gives me the squirts, I’ll have your head.” Then he took another bite.

Laughing, I replied, “It’s the oldest preservation method there is. You’ll be fine. I promise.”

He was still chewing when he replied, “Well, if you need vinegar to make this stuff, let’s get to the chemistry!”

I washed the crock out and dumped the grape skins in. Dalton leaned over the crock and sniffed. “Smells like it’s already starting to ferment.”

“Good,” I said as I turned to the cabinet and took out a precious jar of Braggs Apple Cider Vinegar. It was the only one around, that I knew of anyway. Opening the bottle, I dumped about half of it in.

“What’s that for, mother?” Dalton asked.

Nodding, I replied, “Yeah, we don’t have a mother, but this will add the necessary bacteria to get it started. We really need juice, but don’t have any, so we’re going with this. I’ll just add water and mash it around a bit to make a juice of sorts.”

“Then what?”

“Well, we cover it with a cloth and wait. After I mix this up, if it isn’t sweet enough, I’ll add the honey. I was thinking about distilling it as well. Just depends on how it comes out. This won’t be like your normal white vinegar. That shit’s actually made from natural gas in some cases.”

“Natural gas?”

I nodded. “The beauty of having the FDA in bed with the food industry.”

I took a large wooden spoon and stirred and mashed the skins. We took turns on it, working it for a long time. We mashed and stirred for what seemed like forever, stopping from time to time to taste it.

“I don’t think it’s going to get any sweeter,” Dalton said after sampling it.

“Me neither.”

“You think it’s sweet enough?”

“It’s not real sweet. Let’s add the honey.” I poured about a quart of honey into the crock and thoroughly stirred it in. This dramatically increased the sugar levels. “I think this is better.”

Dalton tried it. “That’s not half bad. The vinegar adds an interesting note to it.”

I laughed. “Didn’t know you were a sommelier.”

He shrugged. “I was young and needed the money.”

Since the sliding glass door had been shot out and replaced with plywood, the dining room was very dark. I carried the crock over to the corner beside the now defunct door and set it down. Then, I covered the top with cheese cloth, securing it with a big rubber band I’d made by looping several together. Standing up, I looked down and said, “Now we wait.”

“How long?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll check it after a week and see what it’s like.”

“I want in on that. I want to see how this all works.”

“Cool. We’ll keep an eye on it then.”

Dalton looked at his watch. “I have duty here in a bit. I’ll catch you later.”

He left and I wandered into the living room and fell onto the couch. It was nearly supper time and I wanted to enjoy the quiet for a while. The house was hot though, really hot. Even with all the windows open, it was probably ninety degrees inside. But you kind of get used to it. At least in the way that your mind accepts that this is the reality and there isn’t much you can about it. But now that I was thinking about cooling houses, I sat for a while thinking about the project to do just that. While noodling on this idea, I came up with a better way to do it. It would require a trip to the Save-a-Lot.

I looked at my watch and got up to head to Danny’s. I smiled, thinking about the response from everyone when Aric and Fred made their announcement. If it made me smile, I’m sure it was going to bring joy to everyone else. Thinking of this, I headed out the door. It felt cooler outside than it did in the house. Jamie and Perez were on the front porch when I walked up. Naturally, Perez was smoking. I just can’t imagine how he still had any, but he did.

“How’s tricks?” I asked.

“It’s hotter’n the Devil’s ball sack,” Jamie replied.

“Muy caliente,” Perez added.

I laughed. “That’s weird. A Spanish echo.” Perez took a drag off his cigarette and shrugged.

Looking around, I asked, “You seen Aric and Fred?”

Jamie shook her head. “No. Why?”

“Oh, no reason.” I went inside. Mel, Bobbie, Miss Kay and Mary were all in the kitchen. A warm scent filled the house. I don’t know how they did it, but they always managed to cook something that smelled amazing.

“You didn’t mess up my kitchen, did you?” Mel asked.

“Nope. It’s clean.” I just didn’t mention the vinegar flies that were sure to arrive in a few days.

“Did you get your vinegar started?” Kay asked.

“Sure did. Shouldn’t take too long. Vinegar likes heat.”

She mopped her brow with the bottom of her apron. “Well, Lord knows we’ve got plenty of that!”

“What’s for supper?” I asked.

“You just go out there on the porch. You’ll find out soon enough,” Kay replied.

I did as instructed and went out to the porch. The kids were all sitting at one table with towels wrapped around them, their hair still wet. I went over to Little Bit and ran my hand through her wet hair.

“Did you have fun out there?”

She looked up, smiling. “Yeah, we did! The little pool was really fun!”

“So was the sprinkre!” Little Edie tried to say.

I patted all of them on the head and took a seat at a

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