Queen Bee (Lowcountry Tales #12)(46)

I started making batter for pancakes and took out Archie’s largest skillet. The boys came wandering into the room.

“So, listen up, buckaroos, is there any cake in any other part of the house? Even a crumb?”

“Maybe,” Hunter said sheepishly. “There might be some on the floor in front of the television.”

I glanced at the kitchen clock that hung on the wall over the back door. It was after nine. Archie and Sharon would be downstairs soon. I wet a paper towel, squeezed out the water, and wiped the icing from Hunter’s mouth.

“I want both of you to take the broom and dustpan and clean up every single crumb as quickly as you can. Because if there is one crumb left, you both could be in big trouble.”

“How come?” they said in disbelief.

“That cake y’all woofed up was a special reserve for your daddy and Sharon’s first anniversary.”

They looked at each other as terror set in.

“Yikes!” they both screamed and tore out of the room to remove the evidence.

After I tossed the crumbs, I served the boys plates of steaming towers of tiny pancakes drizzled with warmed maple syrup and melted butter with big glasses of milk. They were in heaven.

Archie came down the stairs with luggage and returned upstairs to get more. There was still no Sharon sighting. When Archie came down the steps alone with another suitcase, I met him in the hall by the front door.

“Good morning,” I said. I was as cool as I could be.

“Hi! Oh, I’m glad you’re already here!”

“Well, I figured the boys needed breakfast.”

“Right, of course.”

Heaven forbid that Sharon leave the marital chamber to tend to her brand-new stepchildren to let them know she cared about them even a smidgen.

“Archie, can I have a word with you?”

“Of course. Want to follow me? I’ve got to get these in the trunk. Is there coffee?”

I picked up a tote bag that looked like Sharon’s and wondered if she was taking a bag of bricks on her honeymoon for a special reason.

“We can have coffee ready in five minutes.”

He opened the back of his Jeep and the first suitcase went in with a jerk and a grunt appropriate to the size and weight of it.

“Great. What’s on your mind?”

“Listen, I know it’s not my business, but apparently Sharon took all the pictures of Carin and put them away.”

“Understandable, don’t you think?”

“Um, I think it’s actually a little bit insensitive.” Archie stepped back and frowned. “I mean, I found Tyler in tears. Why don’t you give each of the boys a picture of Carin to keep in their rooms?”

“I hadn’t thought about it that way,” he said. “Of course, I’ll take care of that right away.”

“Great! How about some pancakes?” I said. “And I’ll get a pot of coffee going.”

“I’ll be right there,” he said. “Holly?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“Sure,” I said.

I hurried back inside to throw grinds in their coffeemaker, batter in the pan, and two more place settings on the table. Was I really going to cook breakfast for Sharon? I decided to be the bigger person and just do it. I’d look petty if I didn’t. If she didn’t want them, she didn’t have to eat them.

About ten minutes later, the car was packed and breakfast was on the table for Mr. and Mrs. MacLean. Archie and Sharon came to the table.

“This looks great,” Archie said.

“Holly makes the best pancakes I ever had!” Tyler said.

“Better than IHOP!” Hunter said.

“Pancakes? You must be kidding,” Sharon said. “None for me, thanks.”

Tyler and Hunter looked from Sharon’s face to mine and back again.

“Why not?” Tyler said.

“Because pancakes make you fat,” she said.

“No, they don’t,” Hunter said. “I’m not fat. I eat pancakes all the time.”

“You shouldn’t disagree with me, young man. It’s very rude,” Sharon said.

The room got quiet.

Archie said, “Hunter, adults have to limit the amount of carbohydrates they eat because the unburned ones metabolize as fat. I don’t think Sharon meant to say kids shouldn’t eat them. You’ll burn them off before noon. Isn’t that right, Sharon?”

“Perhaps I should have been more specific, but your boys are going to have to learn some manners,” Sharon said. “If we’re going to get along, that is.”

I thought I would really love to fly across the room and strangle her.

“What did I do?” Tyler said. “Why am I included in this?”

“It’s a generalization,” Sharon said.

“Oh. By the way, what do you want us to call you?” Tyler said.

“Why, call me ‘Mother’! What else would you call me?”

How about any of the fifty terrible names that were running through my head?

“You’re not our mother,” Hunter said quietly and nicely. “Our mother is in heaven with the angels.”

“Sharon . . .” Archie said in a kind of a warning to her not to ramp this up to a full-blown war.