Queen Bee (Lowcountry Tales #12)(16)

“Why? What are you doing for dinner?” he asked.

This got the boys’ attention.

“Pork chops, stuffing, applesauce, braised carrots, and creamed spinach. There’s plenty. Pork chops were on sale, so I bought a slug of them.” I was trying to remember if I had another pie in the freezer and I thought I did. Maybe peach? “Give me like forty-five minutes?”

“Oh, we shouldn’t . . .” he said.

“Stuffing? Ah, come on, Dad! Please?” Tyler said, his hands folded in desperate prayer. “I can’t believe I’m saying thith, but I’m thick of pizza.”

“You are?” Archie said.

“I love pork chops,” Hunter said with a very sad face. “We haven’t had pork chops in years.” He slid to the floor and pretended to be unconscious from starvation, or maybe it was malnutrition.

“It’s fine,” I said. “Really!”

Archie looked at the faces of his little boys and saw that they were missing home-cooked meals.

“Okay,” he said. “We’ll see you soon.”

“Great!”

I hurried home and threw dinner together in record time. The flowers were still fresh and I knew the unchipped plates were on top of the stack. The bacon sizzled in my cast-iron skillet, and I did indeed have a peach pie in the depths of the freezer. Soon our house smelled like bacon and fruit. What could be more mouthwatering?

Over dinner Archie said, “I haven’t had pork chops this good since my momma cooked them. I’m not kidding.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Would you like another one?”

“I sure would,” Hunter said.

“Me, too,” said Tyler.

Archie shot them a stern look and refilled my wineglass halfway. Wine with dinner made me feel very sophisticated.

“Please?” they said.

“Of course!” I said and passed the platter to them, followed by the applesauce and the spinach. “So, I got a job today.”

“You did?” Archie said, knowing without me saying a word that my taking a job was tantamount to a full-scale revolution. The QB was going to have a cow.

“Yeah, decorating cakes at Publix. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Not at all,” he said politely and smiled in a way that said he approved of the revolution.

“Decorating cakes?” Hunter said. “That’s the coolest job in the world!”

“My birf-day is in June,” Tyler said, implying I should decorate a cake for him.

I smiled at him.

“Well, if I still have this job in June, I’ll bring you the biggest cake you’ve ever seen!”

Tyler looked at me with the sweetest expression and said, “Isn’t Mith Holly great, Dad? Isn’t she?”

“Yeah, she’s pretty great,” he said and smiled at me with his twinkling eyes.

“But I still intend to teach at your school when something opens up!”

“Tell us a bee fact,” Hunter said. “Please?”

“Well, honey bees were used as the symbol of government by Emperor Napoleon I. Have you ever heard of him?”

“Cool!” Tyler said.

“And the ancient Greeks associated lips anointed with honey with the gift of eloquence—you know, honeyed lips?” Archie said. “And the Delphic bee was the priestess of Delphi!”

“And Utah is the Beehive State,” I said.

“It is?” Hunter said.

“Archie? Tell us some more about cargo cults,” I said.

“No, really?” he said, obviously flattered to be asked.

“Yeah, Dad!” Tyler said. “Tell us!”

“Well, all right . . .”

Archie went on to embellish the stories about the cargo cults and a mythical character named John Frum while I watched his boys’ faces. They were entranced by their father. You could see it in their eyes. This was what they all needed. To be whole. To be a normal family again. I’d brought them together again around a table to talk about their day, to share a good meal, and to give them a chance to feel okay about their lives. They even ate the spinach.





I said, “So, kids, it’s not like the bees love the flowers. It’s a business relationship.”

Tyler said, “What do you mean?”

I said, “Well, the bees use the flowers to get nectar and pollen. And the flowers know the bees will pollinate other flowers as they move around the garden. It’s all in the name of self-preservation.”


Chapter Five



All the Buzz

I brought Momma home from the hospital the next day and she seemed to be fine. It quickly became clear, to me at least, that she was ignoring her precarious state, because she refused to discuss it. She didn’t want to talk about follow-up appointments or doctors or anything at all that had to do with her health in general. Certainly not exercise.

“I can take care of myself,” she said.

“Fine,” I said. “Let’s hope you’re right.”

Denial set in. She resumed her prone position, changed the batteries in her television remote, and went back to shopping on QVC and HSN.

She also didn’t want to discuss my job at Publix. When I told her what I was doing she set her jaw into a lock and barely spoke to me for a few days. That was actually not such a bad thing. In fact, it was peaceful.