Queen Bee (Lowcountry Tales #12)(51)

“Such as?”

“Such as not showing up unannounced at my mother’s dressed as Charlene. I just told him, I said, ‘Charlie? My momma’s an older lady, from another generation, and she just can’t take it. And Momma feels like you duped me by not telling me in the first place. She needs to know you’re the same wonderful man that married her daughter.’ I’ll tell you, Holly, him showing up as Charlene with no warning wasn’t nice. I mean, how about a heads-up?”

“But I seem to remember you laughing!” I said.

“Nervously. Because I didn’t know what else to do!” she said.

“Yeah, I don’t think I would’ve known what to do, either.”

“He wants me to come to Vegas with him to watch this competition.”

“Are you going to go?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, let’s think about it.”

“How did last night go?”

“Terrific,” I said and then told her about Sharon’s strawberry allergy.

I thought she was going to burst a blood vessel, she laughed so hard. I mean, she really laughed more than I thought she should have. I wrote it off to her anxiety over dealing with Charlie’s new ambitions.

“I know. How terrible, right?” I said. “I’ll see you later.”

The boys were just coming up the steps and I was almost right behind them.

“Hey! How was school?”

They babbled on while I got the door open and then they followed me inside, still talking a mile a minute.

“Anybody want a snack?”

“Yes!” they said.

“Okay, backpacks down and go wash your hands!”

They scattered like mercury and were back in a flash.

I put sliced apples and peanut butter in front of them on a platter to share, and I sat down at the table with them.

“Okay, Tyler, you first. Tell me every single thing that happened to you today, and make sure you include at least one good thing. Hunter? You should be thinking about what you’re going to say.”

They told me their stories about math and lunch and recess and what was coming up and who they played with and what games they played. By the time they were finished talking, the platter was empty.

“Okay! Now, who’s got homework?”

Worksheets were pulled from their backpacks and they got down to business. I quizzed Tyler with spelling words and helped him complete a two-digit math sheet with and without carrying numbers. Next, I watched Hunter form letters.

“Hunter? Do you know I had the exact same practice paper when I went to school?”

“You did?” He said this in such amazement that I realized he thought I was ancient.

“Yup,” I said and crossed my eyes at him.

“You shouldn’t do that. They might get stuck,” he said.

“Baloney,” I said. “Who told you that?”

“Momma,” he said.

“Well, then, it’s true. Now what else do you have?”

“An Under the Sea math sheet,” Hunter said.

“And I have a counting money sheet,” Tyler said. “And a sheet on homophones.”

“Well, let’s get on it so we might have an hour for the playground before supper!”

“Yay!” they both said and focused on the job at hand.

I marveled at the fact that although Tyler sometimes seemed to have all the earmarks of an adult already in place, he didn’t yet know how to tell time or the difference in coin values and how they related to basic math skills and social literacy. And it was the same with Hunter. He was still learning his ABC’s and how to write his name when otherwise he seemed like he knew everything in the world. I thought then about who was going to help them with this work. Who was going to praise their small incremental leaps and big accomplishments? Would it be Archie? Well, to be honest, he might help with special projects like building a papier-maché volcano, but it was doubtful he’d be available on a day-to-day basis to help his boys with these small tasks. Would Sharon? The answer to that would be a strong hell, no in neon lights.

“I love doing homework with y’all,” I said.

“We love doing homework with you, too,” Tyler said.

“Yeah, you make it fun,” Hunter said.

“Well, listen, when your daddy and Sharon get back, I’ll still help you with homework any old time. How’s that?”

“Boy, that would be great. I was worried about that,” Tyler said.

“You shouldn’t worry about anything. It’s not a big deal at all,” I said. “Okay, let’s pack everything up so it’s ready for the morning when we make the mad dash! In fact, why don’t we go to school on the golf cart tomorrow?”

Big smiles broke out on their faces, as they repacked their backpacks and zipped them closed.

“Can we?” Hunter said.

“Our mom used to take us on the golf cart all the time,” Tyler said. “I don’t know if it even still works.”

“We should find out. I suspect it’s probably pretty dirty from just sitting under the house for so long. Let’s go find out.”

I took a roll of paper towels, a garbage bag, and a bottle of spray cleaner, and the boys and I went outside and under the house to investigate. We lifted the cover off and stood back. The cart was surely in need of some attention, because the seats were covered in mildew stains and the floor was all sandy.