Queen Bee (Lowcountry Tales #12)(24)

“Spell night.”

“N. I. G. H. T. Same as all the other ‘ight’ words. Light, sight, tight, bright.”

“Bonus question. What’s the capital of Russia?” I said with a straight face.

Leslie giggled.

“Hey! No fair! That’s not in my homework!” he said.

“Okay. For twenty-five cents? Spell ‘aardvark’!” I said.

Tyler cut his eyes at Hunter and started to giggle.

“Did you say fart? Miss Holly! That’s a bad word!” Hunter said.

“Aardvark? Huh? Is that even a word?” Tyler said.

“It’s a aminal,” said Hunter, so adorably I didn’t correct him. “It eats ants and termites and lives in Africa.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, and it’s got a nose like a pig and ears like a rabbit and its tongue is ten inches long!” Hunter said and stuck out his tongue at Tyler to demonstrate.

Tyler, of course, reciprocated the gesture.

“All right, you two banditos!” I reached in the refrigerator and took out the container. “Let’s get you home. Make sure you get your bath. The Lakers are playing tonight and Sharon’s coming over.”

“Sharon?” Leslie said.

“The dentist,” I said.

“I don’t like her,” Tyler said.

“Me, either,” Hunter said.

“Have y’all met her?” I said.

“No, but I already don’t like her,” Tyler said.

“Oh, come on. You can’t dislike someone you haven’t even met, can you?” I said.

“I don’t like the way Dad sounds when he’s talking to her on the phone. He gets all mushy,” Tyler said.

“Yeah, and she calls him every five minutes,” Hunter added.

Really? I thought. That did not bode well for me usurping the position as front-runner.

“Hmmm,” Leslie said.

“Well, I’m coming over tonight, too,” I said, “so I’ll give y’all a full assessment tomorrow.”

“You are?” Leslie said.

“Yay!” said the boys with more enthusiasm than I would have expected.

I shrugged my shoulders at her and shooed them out the door.

“Fix a plate, then nuke it for one minute on high!” I said, calling after them. Then I turned back to Leslie. “They move fast at that age.”

“Sweetheart, let me understand something,” she said. “You gonna be a third wheel tonight?”

“That appears to be the case,” I said.

“Well, for God’s sake, go wash your hair. And scrub your nails. You look rode hard and put up wet.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Sisters.





“Here’s a fun bee fact,” I said.

“What?” Hunter said.

“Bees are cold blooded. When the temperature reaches below fifty degrees, they can’t fly!”


Chapter Eight



Bee Team

It just so happened I had a purple sweater and it was relatively new, the perfect color for a Lakers game. It looked just right with my khaki-colored capris. Leslie loaned me her leopard-print ballet slippers.

“Capris? Really?” she said.

“No?”

“No. What are you? Fifty? Wear my leggings.”

“If you say so!” I pulled them on, thinking they were a little immodest.

“Meow,” she said. “On the prowl.”

“Meow, indeed,” I said and shook my head.

I blew my hair out and Leslie flat-ironed it. I actually looked better than pretty good. No one would have ever said I was gorgeous, that’s for sure. But I had nice skin that didn’t need evening out with makeup. If I used a little mascara, my eyes seemed bigger. And I was a lip gloss fan. I’d have to say my thick hair that was just past my shoulders was probably my best asset.

Leslie was focused on my evening’s agenda like a heat-seeking missile.

“We have to have a plan,” she said.

“What are you thinking?”

“Unnerve her. Your comfort level with the boys is in the stratosphere. This is her first time meeting them. If she has serious designs on Archie, she’ll be on her best behavior. You’re bringing popcorn. That’s good. Kids love popcorn. I’ll bet you twenty dollars she brings him wine and nothing for the kids.”

“We’ll see. I’m not going to stay for the whole game,” I said.

“Why not? Get in there and fight, Holly!”

“I’m just going to stay long enough to ruin her night,” I said, adding, “I hope. I’ve got to pop the corn.”

“Well, you’ll have to see how it goes,” Leslie said. “In any case, the boys should be the key to Archie’s heart. In my opinion, anyway.”

“Well, if food was the ticket, I would have known it by now,” I said.

“Wow, you aren’t kidding. How many times have you fed them?”

“If I had a nickel for every PB and J sandwich I made for the boys, we’d be having this conversation in an oceanfront mansion!”

I threw a pack of popcorn into the microwave, set the timer, and pressed start. Leslie and I stood there looking at each other, waiting for the popping to start.