Queen Bee (Lowcountry Tales #12)(26)

I narrowed my eyes at her and said, “I think anybody who knows anything about honey bees would say the benefits eclipse the risks by a margin about as wide as the Grand Canyon.”

“Still,” she said. “Who keeps bees?”

I took a deep breath and thought, This is worse than I thought.

“Well, Charles Darwin, Augustus, Charlemagne, George Washington, Virgil, Tolstoy, Sylvia Plath, and Martha Stewart,” I said and took a sip of water. “To name a few.”

“By the way, Holly, your beef stew was a hit! We inhaled it,” Archie said. “Thanks again.”

“Well, thanks! I’m so glad!”

“Wait! You cook their supper? What are you? A caterer?” Sharon said, and I could see she was growing suspicious of me.

“Only to a very small and select few,” I said.

There was screaming from the other room. The Lakers had scored and the boys were jumping on the sofa.

“Settle down in there!” Archie shouted.

“I like to cook,” Sharon said to Archie. “I’ll make dinner for you this week if you’d like.”

“Would you?” he said. “What night?”

“Which night works best for you?” she said.

Archie looked at her in that way, the way that told me there was hot mischief afoot. Her hooks were in deep. They were already sleeping together. I knew it in my bones. And there I stood like the proverbial third wheel. Neither one of them seemed to be aware they had an audience.

“Well, when you get that worked out, let me know and I’ll watch the boys for you,” I said.

“Oh!” Archie said, regaining consciousness. “Thanks!”

“How sweet! You’ve got a little nanny, a tutor, and a chef all rolled into one,” Sharon said. “And you’ve got me! Aren’t you lucky!”

“I am,” he said.

I thought I was going to die.

“I’m just going to go watch the game now,” I said.

I was thoroughly disgusted. But now that I had a clear picture, I had another problem. Sharon’s behavior made me realize how much I cared about Archie. I could see he was heading toward something serious with her. I really, and I mean really, did not want this condescending, arrogant, awful woman to be front and center in Archie’s life and most certainly did not want her in the boys’ life, either. At all.

I got to the living room reasonably composed, or so I thought, and sat on the sofa in between the boys. They were completely engrossed with the game. But in moments, Tyler sensed that I was seething.

“Was I right?” he said.

I wasn’t about to engage in gossip with a seven-year-old boy about the woman who might become his stepmother, but I was sorely tempted.

I just said, “Tyler, these things are hard to figure out sometimes.”

And he nodded his head in solemn agreement. A simple answer satisfied him. He knew me well enough, even from where he stood in his young years, to know that I agreed with him. His instincts were excellent. There was nothing to be done about Archie and Sharon. It was going to have to play itself out. I was, after all, the nanny, the cook, the tutor, and nothing more.

Archie and Sharon made an appearance in the living room and soon retreated back to the kitchen where they could talk and be alone. Apparently, Sharon wasn’t much of a Lakers fan or a sports enthusiast. I didn’t live and die for ball games either, but I loved the occasional basketball game because it was fast and exciting and you could see the faces of the players.

I stayed until the third quarter, when it became clear the Lakers were wiping the floor with Atlanta. I gave the boys a hug and stuck my nose in the kitchen to sign off with Archie and to semi-acknowledge Sharon’s prowess.

As I walked home, I knew in my heart that I was no threat to Sharon. And that hurt. Archie was as good as married, and I was going to have that hateful woman as my next-door neighbor forever. And the boys? Oh, this was going to be bad.

Leslie was waiting up for me.

“Glass of vino?” she asked.

“Sure,” I said. “This is getting to be a habit.”

She poured me a glass and put it in front of me.

“These are stressful times,” she said.

“Cheers,” I said. “I owe you twenty dollars.”

“Cheers. Figures. How did it go?” she asked quietly because my face probably said it all.

I told her every single detail I could remember.

“This woman is insufferable. Even Tyler thinks so.”

“He’s too young to have an opinion.”

“Yes, but there’s nothing wrong with his judgment of character. I’m so worried, Leslie.”

“This could head south very quickly,” she said with concern, agreeing about the urgency of the situation.

“I’m telling you, Archie is down the rabbit hole,” I said. “From the looks of things, I’d guess she’s screwing him every time she sees him. They’re all over each other. I watched the game in the living room with the boys while they drooled all over each other in the kitchen.”

“What can we do about it?” Leslie said.

“I don’t know. Here’s the thing. It’s the boys. This woman doesn’t give a damn about children. Those boys are going to suffer. And it won’t be long until Archie’s miserable.”