Queen Bee (Lowcountry Tales #12)(25)

“What am I going to do with myself?” Leslie said.

“I think you need to get a lawyer. Charlie might be able to keep his parents’ money, but you’re entitled to something.”

“Yes. I agree with that. I don’t know if I’m ready for battle,” Leslie said.

“That’s what the lawyers are for,” I said.

“Do I smell popcorn?” Momma appeared in her new housedress, the kind you step into and then you zip it up, of which she must’ve had a dozen. “Where are you going, missy, all dolled up?”

“I’m going to the ball with my prince,” I said.

“Is that a fact?”

Leslie said, “She’s going next door to meet Archie’s girlfriend and watch the Lakers clobber Atlanta.”

“Are we now?” Momma said.

“Good luck,” Leslie said.

“Thanks!”

“Wait!” Momma said. “I want some popcorn.”

“It’s for the boys,” I said and took a jar of my honey with pecans from the pantry.

Honestly, I thought.

“Holly, get out of here! I’ll pop another package for the queen.”

“Thanks,” I said, and dropped the honey and the hot popcorn in a plastic grocery bag. “See y’all later.”

“Now that’s a sweet daughter!” Momma said to Leslie.

Leslie rolled her eyes up in her head.

I crossed the front porch and went down my steps the same way I had at least a million times, but for some reason this time felt different. The hair on the back of my neck bristled. I ignored it, knowing that when my neck hairs bristled, something was about to happen. And instinctively I knew I wasn’t going to like it.

There was a dark-colored sedan in Archie’s driveway that must’ve belonged to Sharon. I looked at her car for bumper stickers, because they say a lot about a person’s politics and so on. There were none to be found. I climbed the stairs to Archie’s house and rang the doorbell. Hunter came flying to the door in his Superman pajamas with Tyler right behind him in plaid flannels.

“Hey, Mith Holly. Game’s starting,” Tyler said.

“You don’t sound too happy, pal. What’s wrong?”

“I hate her,” he said. “You’ll see why.”

“Oh, dear. Well, I brought popcorn. It’s still hot, so we need to get it in a bowl.”

I began walking toward the kitchen and before I got there, I could see Archie with a woman I assumed was Sharon. She had her arms around his neck and she was laying one powerful and prolonged kiss on him. I cleared my throat loudly and walked right on in with the boys on my heels. It was like watching a train derail. I didn’t want to look, but there it was. Archie untangled himself from her choke hold and wiped his mouth. His face was blotched with her red lipstick, remnants of something that shouldn’t be going on with the kids right in the next room. I hadn’t even seen her face and I already despised her.

And then she turned around. To say she was my antithesis is an understatement. She was tall to my short, big boned to my smaller frame, big chested to my average-sized bust, and made up for Mardi Gras. Her shirt was too tight, her heels were too high, and she had on too much jewelry.

“Hi,” she said.

“Holly, this is Sharon. Holly lives next door. My boys adore her.”

“As long as you don’t, then I don’t mind,” she said.

Archie was completely fine with the fact that the boys and I caught them kissing. Or if he wasn’t, I couldn’t tell. Either way, I was irritated.

“Hi,” I said. “We just need a bowl for popcorn. Sorry to interrupt.”

“Oh, no problem!” she said, smiling like Delilah.

I moved past her as Tyler reached in a cabinet and gave me a large bowl.

“Thanks, sweetie.” I ripped open the warm bag, dumped the contents into the bowl, and handed it to Tyler.

“Save me a place on the sofa,” I said.

Tyler and Hunter scooted out of the room with the bowl, their mouths already full of popcorn.

“Holly, would you like a glass of wine? Sharon brought a nice red. I just opened the bottle.”

I owed Leslie twenty dollars.

“No, thanks. I’ll just have some ice water,” I said, adding, “And Sharon, I brought you a jar of my honey-covered pecans. It’s good on everything.”

She took the jar, which also irked me, and studied the label.

“How sweet!” she said, so disingenuously it made me almost sick. “Did you make this yourself? It’s so quaint!”

“Holly is a beekeeper, and this honey is from her bees,” Archie said.

“Oh, my God in heaven!” Sharon said. “You actually have bees next door?”

“Yeah, quite a few, actually,” I said.

“Why?” she said. “I mean, I know they’re supposed to help things grow and all that, but aren’t they a lot of work? And don’t you worry about them attacking you?”

“These are honey bees. They don’t sting unless they are provoked. They’re vegetarian. And they’re pretty self-sustaining.”

“Aren’t there any laws on this island to protect citizens from bees?”

Archie looked at me semi-apologetically. “Well, I’ve lived here for years and so have the bees, and none of us have been stung.”