Read Online Looking for Salvation at the Dairy Queen by Susan Gregg Gilmore - Free Book Online

jars and Gloria Jean told him that we would need four dozen to start. “You know the preacher's daughters are looking to make a little money this summer,” she said, continuing to explain the entire plan without pausing for him to interrupt. “I told them that I was certain you wouldn't mind them selling their jam here in the store.”
    “Uh, well, you know, Miss Gloria Jean, I'm not sure that the company will allow me . . . I mean, you know I would . . .”
    Ignoring Mr. Tucker's hesitation, Gloria Jean proceeded, “I told them that you of all people would understand two enterprising girls wanting to make some money of their own. You being so kind and understanding and such a successful businessman and all.”
    Mr. Tucker stood there, shifting his weight back and forth from one foot to the other, staring at the floor. “Well, I'm sure I could make an exception for you, I mean for Reverend Cline's daughters, seeing how he's the preacher,” Mr. Tucker finally confessed, looking up at Gloria Jean.
    “You sweet thing,” she said, winking at us so Mr. Tucker couldn't see. “Girls, didn't I tell you Mr. Tucker is about the sweetest man in town? It's just a shame Blanche got him to walk down that aisle before I did.” Mr. Tucker blushed, now turning about as bright a shade of red as, well, one of my strawberries. “In fact, I bet he'd carry these dirty, old boxes out to the car for us. You know I just painted my nails and I sure would hate to chip them on one of these boxes.”
    Gloria Jean pulled a ten-dollar bill from her wallet and paid for the mason jars. She walked alongside Mr. Tucker, even resting her hand on his forearm as she led him to the LeSabre, ignoring me and Martha Ann altogether. He loaded the boxes just as she had asked, and I had a feeling I had already learned an awful lot about doing business that day.
    We unpacked the jars and the groceries when we got back to Gloria Jean's house, and Martha Ann and I washed all the berries on one side of the sink while Gloria Jean washed the mason jars on the other. Using the back of a fork, my little sister and I crushed the berries against the side of the mixing bowl and then poured them into a big black kettle waiting for us on the stove. I added the pectin and Martha Ann added the lemon juice. Gloria Jean explained that the pectin and the juice would preserve the taste and color of the jam.
    Then Gloria Jean turned on the gas under the black pot and told me and Martha Ann to stand back as she put a lit match to the burner. Martha Ann wouldn't take her eyes off the pot, waiting for the strawberry mixture to boil. Gloria Jean warned her that a watched pot of any kind never boils, but Martha Ann didn't dare blink. After it had bubbled and steamed for a minute or two, Gloria Jean added the sugar. Then we had to wait for it to boil again, but this time Gloria Jean kept scraping this pretty pink foam off the top. Martha Ann said it looked like pink clouds.
    We had to wait even longer for our strawberries to cool down so that we could pour them into the mason jars. Gloria Jean fixed us grilled cheese sandwiches. She said eating would make the time pass more quickly, but even a warm grilled cheese sandwich couldn't take my mind off that pot. Finally, Gloria Jean handed us both a ladle and said we could start filling the jars as long as we were careful to leave a good quarter inch of space at the top of each one. I did most of the pouring, though, and then Martha Ann came behind me putting a metal lid on top of each jar. Then we went back and topped each one with a screw band that held the lid securely in place.
    Gloria Jean said we did a real good job, but we weren't done yet. Then she put as many jars as she could at one time on a metal rack she had placed inside a large, stainless-steel pot. She filled the pot with water, making certain that the water covered all of the jars. Even when the water started boiling, Gloria Jean kept checking to make sure the jars were