Queen Bee (Lowcountry Tales #12)(19)

“She’s sawing logs,” I said.

“It’s not even ten o’clock,” she said in a very whiny voice.

“What do you want from me? What’s going on, Leslie? You sound awful.”

“You know that trip to Atlantic City I took with Charlie last week?”

“Let me guess. You won a million dollars?”

“No. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, and anyway, I can’t talk about it. Every time I . . .”

Then she broke down into tears, sobbing like a baby. Now, we all know my sister was difficult, but I didn’t like to hear her cry like this. In fact, I couldn’t remember ever hearing her cry like this.

“Leslie, come on now. Talk to me.”

“I can’t. I’m coming home.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, clean my room. I’ll be there tomorrow night.”

Oh, yes, princess, I’m already running for the vacuum.

“How long are you staying?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is Charlie coming?”

“No. Charlie is not coming. He’s going . . .”

“Where?”

“To Las Vegas.”

“For what?”

“Oh, hell, you’re going to find out anyway. To audition to be in a show. Dressed as a woman.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

“You heard me correctly. Charlie is a female impersonator.”

“Just get yourself home. We’ll get this all sorted out.”

Holy hell, I thought. Holy hell.





“There can only be one queen bee per hive,” I said.

“But what if another one wants to move in?” Hunter said.

“Then there’s gonna be trouble.”


Chapter Six



Bee Truthful

In the morning, I didn’t tell our mother anything except that Leslie had called and was coming for a visit, but not that she was coming alone. I didn’t tell her about Charlie and what she said he was up to. I’d always thought there was something different about him, like he was hiding something. Dang, I was sure sorry to be right about that one. Frankly, I was surprised. I didn’t understand why anyone would want to be a female impersonator in Las Vegas or anywhere. I knew I’d been leading a sheltered life. My mind just didn’t go to things like seeing my name in neon lights. Besides, this was Leslie’s story to tell Momma, not mine.

I told my bees all about Leslie and Charlie, but that was entirely different than telling a person. They began doing their waggle dance, which they generally did when they wanted their sisters to follow them to a new location to slurp up nectar and pollen from a different patch of flowers. I like to think they waggled because the news was upsetting to them. Maybe they were warning me to be careful. Did I really want to live with Leslie again? How long was she staying? Did I have any options? Not really.

I worked at the library that day, and Tyler and Hunter were among the dozen or so children who attended the workshop. I sat with them on the low chairs and helped them choose the colors of their petals as I moved from child to child. I’d put together an example to show them what we were going to make. Hunter asked me for a small oval-shaped piece of brown felt. I watched as he attached it to the tip of a petal with a drop of glue. Then a huge smile crossed his face.

“My flower has a honey bee!” he said proudly.

The next thing I knew I was cutting brown felt for all the others until every last child had a honey bee on their flower. I showed them how to mark the body with a yellow felt-tip pen and we added tiny gold wings. No regulation honey bee would confuse these fabric imitations for sisters, but mine might be flattered to know they were so admired. I would tell them tomorrow.

When the class was over, I walked Hunter and Tyler home. There was a Mercedes-Benz with Ohio license plates in our driveway, so I knew Leslie had arrived. She was safe, so that was good. But there was a U-Haul trailer attached to the back bumper. Not good.

“All right, you two! I’ll see you later.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Tyler said.

“Are you coming for supper?” Hunter asked.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart,” I said. “My sister just arrived from Ohio for a visit, so I’m afraid I’ll be expected to eat with her. I’ll see y’all tomorrow!”

“She drove by herself from Ohio?” Tyler said. “That’s an awfully long drive!”

“Dad has a girlfriend,” Hunter announced. “She has two cats.”

“Excuse me?” I said too loudly as every hair on my body felt like it was standing on end. I was caught completely by surprise. “A girlfriend?”

“Shut up, Hunter!” Tyler said and looked at me, realizing, even at his age, that I was not delighted to hear it. “She’s not a girlfriend, if you know what I mean.”

What did he mean? Did girlfriend have a new definition?

“She’s a dentist,” Hunter said. “They got fixed up.”

“Well, that’s nice. I guess,” I said in a voice so low I could hardly hear myself. “Who stayed with y’all?”

“My teacher, Mrs. Hamilton,” Hunter said.