“That’s forty-eight jars from the hardware store side,” Irene said, checking a little pencil mark on her wrist.

Principal Vance bent over the long folding table, running a bright yellow highlighter down a page of the district ledger.

“We hit twelve hundred dollars at eleven fifteen,” Principal Vance said.

A farmer in a heavy red canvas coat set two six-gallon pickle crocks on the serving counter.

“My uncle kept these down in his fruit cellar since 1976,” the farmer said.

Marge Miller sat at the far end of the long table with an electric coin sorter plugged into the outlet behind her chair.