Queen Bee (Lowcountry Tales #12)(40)

“Well, Little Miss Bunny Rabbit, aren’t you just adorable?”

I stopped in my tracks and stared at her. Suddenly, I didn’t care about her anymore.

“Nice job making Easter for these boys, Sharon. Very thoughtful job. You really knocked yourself out!”

Her smile disappeared, and she arched an eyebrow at me. There was hate in those eyes.

Silence hung like something dark and terrible was building. No one spoke.

Before it became horribly awkward, I gathered up my shopping bag of chocolate rabbits and jelly beans and said, “Happy Easter, y’all! Tell your daddy the Easter Bunny was here!”

And like a true bunny would, I hopped my way home thinking Sharon might have Archie for the moment, but the boys were mine.





“Here’s another fun bee fact. How about honey bees don’t sleep? They stay motionless to conserve energy for the next day!” I said.

“What?” Tyler said. “That’s crazy!”


Chapter Thirteen



Any Objections?

Leslie stayed home the night before Archie and Sharon were to be married, probably to give her liver a rest. I was pretty sure the Gentlemen of the Tap were holding a candlelight vigil at Dunleavy’s Pub, praying for her swift return. She said she’d been challenging old pals to see who could drink the most shots of tequila and stay on the barstool. I was like, what? You turning into a frat boy? How stupid. And she kept saying she still loved Charlie, but I couldn’t tell you why if you gave me a million dollars. In any case, they talked on the phone all the time.

Like I knew she would, Leslie had her way with my appearance, dropping a bunch of money at Stella Nova to transform my looks from the neck up and another small fortune at different retail establishments on King Street to take care of the neck down. This was more money than I had ever spent in one day. Ever. Not even for Christmas.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I’m sending the bill to Charlie.”

We giggled like schoolgirls.

I had to admit I looked pretty amazing; for me, that is. The dress she chose for me was a bold shade of pink, sort of like the color of geraniums. It was linen, sleeveless, and fitted. I could wear fitted clothes because I was on the lean side—probably a result of all that yard work. She found beige strappy sandals with block heels, which were a good idea for an outdoor wedding, so I wouldn’t sink into the ground. Lastly, we bought a gauzy linen wrap, in case it got chilly. The haircut was layered a bit, definitely an improvement as it made me look like I had style, something that had totally eluded me for my whole life up to now.

“Who knew you had a figure like this?” Momma said when I tried on the dress for her to see.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said.

“You need a pedicure,” Leslie said.

“Why?” I said.

“Because your feet are gnarly and disgusting. Get in the car.”

“Calm down. I have to change first,” I said to Leslie. And then I turned to Momma and said, “I guess I’m getting a pedicure.”

Momma just shook her head and smiled. She was so much happier with Leslie around.

So I had a pedicure and a manicure, and I had to admit, it was really nice to have somebody rub my feet. I didn’t even know they needed it until it was all over, and I felt as light as a dandelion. And the pink polish Leslie chose matched the dress. Of course.

We’d been watching Archie’s house as the tent went up, and in the early afternoon, the caterer arrived and more chairs and racks of glasses from a rental company and then, of course, flowers. For as badly as I felt about Archie marrying Sharon, and I was really struggling to get over it, some tiny part of me was excited to be a part of it because, well, I didn’t get invited to a lot of big parties and weddings. It would have been much worse to be across the street longing to be a part of it. I wondered if they’d have a band and dancing.

Waiting for the appointed hour seemed like an eternity, but at last it was time to dress and walk over. Leslie and Momma had been invited as well, but earlier in the week they both begged off and sent me to represent the family.

“You don’t need me to hold your hand,” Leslie said. “In fact, you’ll do better without me there. But if there are any hot guys, come get me.”

“Don’t wait around for that to happen. I fully expect this to be a very dull affair.”

“Maybe I’ll drop in for a glass of champagne,” she said.

The QB harrumphed.

“If I never go to another wedding, it’s okay with me,” Momma said. “With the possible exception of yours.”

I knew the real reason she was staying home was because Archie’s wedding would remind her of Leslie’s, and I didn’t think there was a thing in her closet that would work. The dress she had worn to Leslie’s wedding was about five sizes too small and getting smaller every day.

“I’m not getting married any time soon,” I said. “But it’s nice to know you’d come.”

“Listen to you,” Momma said. “You’re starting to sound like me.”

Leslie said, “You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks. And Leslie, thanks for all of this. I mean it.”

“You’re welcome. You know, I know it’s going to be awful for you to watch him marry her.”