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.
"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." where to buy spiral ham
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
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 hams are in the back, Silas," Miller