Harvest Moon (Virgin River #15)(29)

She borrowed Jill’s truck and made a run to Eureka to buy some larger pots and cases of canning jars. One nice thing about these small, country towns—they carried those quaint, old-fashioned country canning jars that would be hard to find in San Francisco.

Over just one weekend she produced jars of applesauce, sliced apples for pie filling, more blackberry preserves and pie filling, freezer bags full of her grandmother’s Italian sauce and acorn squash bisque. And what she had was enough product to open a booth at the farmers’ market.

“I’m going to have to spread this around,” she told Jillian. “Seems like a waste of money, doesn’t it?”

Jill shook her head. “Didn’t cost anything but the jars. I was growing just to see what I could grow, giving most of it away. I only got my commercial licenses a couple of months ago. I have no idea what kind of licenses and permits you need to sell processed food.”

“I do. It’s a lot of inspections and paperwork. Some of the certificates I already had to have to work as a chef in this state, but your kitchen isn’t approved, although it can be.”

“Well, we can put up some shelves in the cellar…”

“You should really have Paul Haggerty get someone out here to put a wine cellar down there—it’s perfect. I’m trying to fill up the pantry. You’ll have plenty of stuff after I leave.”

“Spread your goods around town, Kelly. Take a bunch of it to Preacher. He’ll serve some and put some up in the bar. Take a couple of cases to Connie at the Corner Store—she’ll either sell it or hand it out. I mean, it’s safe, right?”

“I’m a chef!”

“And Nana didn’t kill us with her stuff,” Jill added. “Wow, look at this kitchen and pantry. How did you do all this?”

“Well—while Lief’s daughter is off school on weekends, he’s busy hovering over her so I couldn’t see him. I just kept going.” She smiled as she looked around at the many jars. “It was really fun. I can get into a one-woman kitchen.”

When Monday, a school day, rolled around, Lief wanted to spend time with her. But Kelly had things to do. She had boxed up many of her prepared canned and deli items, labeled them and put a calculated shelf life on them. The canned applesauce, apple pie filling, blackberries and Italian sauce were good for a year, but the tomato bisque and squash bisque contained butter and cream, which gave them a very short shelf life—five days if refrigerated.

Lief, still working his way into her good graces, was more than happy to load his truck, cover the boxes and drive her into town. “If you’re giving some to Preacher to sample and serve, I’ll be glad to buy you lunch and a beer. How does that sound?”

“Like you’re seducing me,” she said.

“No, I’m serving your needs, after which I hope to seduce you!”

“I have to admit, I like the way you think,” she said.

So they went first to the bar. It was before the lunch hour when Jack and Preacher would have a little time on their hands.

Kelly lined up her jars on the counter for the proprietors. “All of these were made from organic Jilly Farms produce. I’m saving some in her pantry because next week I’m going to hit the farmers’ market, buy some local end-of-season vegetables and make batches from other growers’ stock. I’m willing to bet that my sister’s produce has better flavor, but who knows? Maybe it’s all about the cook and not the ingredients. We’ll see.”

They lined up spoons and small bowls. Lief was allowed to participate in the tasting. It was like a wine, beer or coffee tasting—flat crackers between samples, new spoons for each. “And I’d like to heat this bisque,” Kelly said. “Permission to use the kitchen?”

“Granted!” Preacher said.

The reviews were raves all around, and of course Preacher wanted to know how much she could sell him, what recipes she would share with him, whether she’d provide more.

“You can have this supply if you’re willing to serve it—I’d like to know what your diners think. I don’t share my great-grandmother’s recipes, but I have lots of recipes I can share with you. I’m going to make my nana’s pumpkin soup, roasted pumpkin seeds, pumpkin pie, pumpkin bread and pumpkin muffins for the Halloween open house.”

Preacher’s cheeks got rosier as she listed these items until she finally finished and he said, “Whoa! I have to give you something for this, Kelly.”

“How about a couple of sandwiches,” Lief suggested.

“Just sandwiches? And a slice of my chocolate velvet cake?”

“Perfect,” Kelly said. “And I’d like the jars back, if you don’t mind. I’ll reuse them after sterilizing.”

“It’s turkey pastrami today,” he said. “And if you play your cards right, a little tomato bisque.”

“Lay it on me,” Lief said.

“We’ll eat slow so we can hang out awhile and maybe pick up some reactions from your lunch crowd.”

And that was what happened, with a twist Kelly didn’t realize was unusual for the bar until Jack explained it to her. Preacher usually served up one item per meal, per day and there was no fanfare. He could be talked out of leftovers by the right person, but there wasn’t anything as fussy as a menu. He stayed mostly in the kitchen, brought out finished meals as they were ready, kept to himself and was not usually talkative.