Queen Bee (Lowcountry Tales #12)(34)

I threw a robe around my shoulders and made my way down the hall to the bathroom I shared with Leslie. The door was locked. Something made me look in her bedroom. There she was in her bed, fast asleep. So who was in my bathroom?

Oh, Leslie, I thought, what have you done?

I went back to my room and stood behind my door, peeking through a small opening. In a moment I had my answer as a man emerged, carrying his shoes and tiptoeing as quiet as a little mouse toward the kitchen door. I recognized him, but I didn’t say a word. He was a guy Leslie used to date before she met Charlie. I couldn’t remember his name. When the moment was right, I cleared my throat to mask the sound of him opening and closing the door. He turned around in surprise and I gave him a little wave. If he had awoken the queen, she would’ve kicked his butt the whole way to Charleston. And for as much as I thought it was trashy for Leslie to drag some guy home she hadn’t seen in a thousand years, I did admire her nerve.

Over breakfast Momma said, “Did y’all hear any noise during the night?”

I said, “I slept very soundly. I didn’t hear anything.”

“Me, either,” Leslie said, lying through her teeth.

“Well, I heard thumping—you know, da dump, da dump, da dump. You know, like, you know?”

“Hmmm,” Leslie said and looked at me across the table, crossing her eyes.

I nearly spit my coffee out through my nose.

“Really?” I said. “Could be a mouse in the wall. Or a marsh rat. They always try to get inside when the weather’s about to change.”

“Yes. And the next time I hear sounds like that I’m going to investigate them with my shotgun!” Momma said and looked at Leslie. “You might want to pass that along.”





Hunter asked, “Why do bees buzz?”

I said, “Because they flap their wings two hundred times per second! The flapping makes the buzz sound.”

“They must be very tired at night,” Hunter said.


Chapter Eleven



The Boys

I saw Archie in the driveway on Sunday afternoon. He told me that he’d asked Sharon to marry him. She said yes.

“Well, congratulations,” I said politely.

“Thanks,” he said. “You don’t seem very excited about it.”

“I think it’s complicated. Have you told the boys?”

“No. But I’m going to do that tonight over dinner.”

On Monday afternoon, I was sitting on the front porch in the cool air reading the Post & Courier when I saw Tyler and Hunter coming down the block. Their backpacks were slung across their backs like Marley’s crippling chains. Their young shoulders didn’t seem broad enough to carry their troubles, and before they even reached my porch, I read the expressions on their faces and knew they were very unhappy.

Before they reached me, I knew what they would say. They didn’t want another mother. Or anyone to try to take Carin’s place in any way whatsoever. I understood that clearly. Their point of view was valid. And that was the problem as it stood between them and their father. They didn’t want Sharon. Their father did. Sharon, in the best case, was indifferent to the boys.

Leslie was inside sleeping off a hangover. I’d heard her slip in the house at sunrise. Oh, Leslie.

And my mother, believe it or not, had baked cookies for the boys. Okay, they were just the slice-and-bake variety, but for her? This? Are you kidding? We might have been in the End Times. Even Momma, hard-hearted as she may have seemed, felt very badly for the boys.

When the weather was nice, Tyler and Hunter walked the few blocks home from school together. And when Archie wasn’t home, they came to my house. It had been this way since Carin died. There was always someone home in our house, so they didn’t have to go into an empty house with no one to ask them how their day had gone. Besides, they were too young to be home alone. And since Sharon worked during the week, they would continue to come to my house after school at least until they were old enough to have a key. I hoped.

At that point, because I knew the ball was in play with no chance of a time-out, I had some thoughts for them to help them get through the crisis.

“Well! Hello, gentlemen! How was your day?” I said, standing to greet them.

I folded my paper as though it didn’t matter anymore. It didn’t. The most important news had arrived in person.

“Terrible,” Tyler said.

“Yeah,” Hunter said. “Terrible. I threw up my lunch.”

“Come here, sweetheart,” I said.

“Luckily, he didn’t barf on himself,” Tyler said.

I put my arms around Hunter and he just leaned into me like dead weight. Poor little fellow.

“All right, now,” I said, “Miss Katherine actually baked some cookies for y’all.” I held Hunter back and looked into his eyes. “Do you think your tender constitutions can handle warm chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk?”

“I can,” Tyler said.

“I’ll try,” Hunter said.

“Then let’s go inside. Go wash your hands and meet me in the kitchen.”

They nodded and went toward the bathroom. Momma was in the kitchen, scooping the cookies onto a platter with a spatula.

“I made a dozen or so. Do you think that’s enough?” she said.