Queen Bee (Lowcountry Tales #12)(96)

“Suzanne,” she whispered with so much tenderness, I couldn’t believe my ears.

“My dove, I’m right here,” Suzanne said. “Just rest.”

And that was a preview of how the following days would unfold. Suzanne, true to her word, never left Momma’s side except to get something Momma needed. We picked up an air mattress from Bed Bath & Beyond and Suzanne slept on the floor right next to Momma’s bed. Momma’s procedure was more invasive than they thought, there was more cancer than the PET scan showed, and so her recovery time would be longer. The good news was that her team of oncologists at MUSC were confident that they’d gotten it all.

Word got around that Momma had had some kind of surgery, and of course, people came to call. They brought casseroles, shrimp salad, cold salads, pound cakes, tomatoes or basil or peppers from their gardens—the usual things. Suzanne was the gatekeeper, deciding who Momma could see and how long they could stay.

Maureen was the first to knock on our door the day we brought her home. She came with brownies and curiosity. If Suzanne’s appearance surprised her, she didn’t show it.

“How’s the queen?”

“She’s doing just great, but she tires quickly,” Suzanne said.

“That’s probably the anesthesia,” Maureen said. “My mother was a nurse. Once a patient reaches a certain age, it’s harder to get over the anesthesia than it is to get over the surgery.”

“That seems to be the case,” Suzanne said.

“Don’t let it scare you if she seems a little out of it,” Maureen said.

“If she hasn’t scared me up until now, I doubt that she ever will,” Suzanne said.

I walked Maureen to the door, and we stopped to chat for a few minutes on the front steps.

“Suzanne, huh?” she said.

“Aka Buster Henry, retired military. Got sick of uniforms. Likes costumes better.”

“Well, she might be a little strange, but she sure is devoted to your momma,” she said.

“I know. And you know what else?”

“What?”

“If I haven’t learned anything else this whole year, I learned that love comes in every color, shape, and size,” I said.

I was thinking about not only Suzanne’s affection for Momma but Leslie’s for Charlie, and mine for Archie and his boys, and his for Sharon, and my recently piqued interest in Ted.

“How are the boys?” I asked.

“Tyler and Hunter live in my pool now,” she said with a laugh. “I know it’s not my place to correct them, but I had to tell them to stop saying how happy they were that Sharon was dead.”

“That’s appropriately terrible,” I said with a smile on my face.

“Have you seen Archie?”

“Not even a sighting in passing. You?”

“Nope. Poor devil,” Maureen said.

I looked up at the sky. Even at four o’clock in the afternoon, it was blazing blue.

“I don’t know if I’d call him a poor devil,” I said.

“Why not?”

“I must be getting old,” I said.

Maureen looked at me and said, “At a certain point we all put away our rose-colored glasses, right?”

“You have to stop reading my mind, Maureen!” I laughed and she gave a little chuckle. “And I always thought I needed to get far away from here to understand the world a little better when all the while . . .”

“All the answers were right here under the freckles on your nose?”

“Yep.” I shook my head. “Isn’t that something? Oh, I expect there are things to see that are worth the trip.”

“Definitely.” She smiled. “Hey! Have you ever been to Italy?”

“Italy! No, can’t say I have. Only through the magic of Hollywood. But I think it might be super fun to ride on a Vespa and throw coins into fountains. How about you?”

“Me, either. But! I was going through the mail I usually throw out, and my alma mater is hosting a trip through Rome, Venice, and Florence, ten days, two thousand, all inclusive. Even airfare. Want to look at it?”

I thought how much money was in my Maserati fund and I couldn’t remember. And then I said I might.

“Can’t hurt to look,” I said. “Italy. Wow.”

“I really want to go, but I don’t want to go alone,” she said. “I’ll bring the brochure over or I’ll text you the link.”

“Sounds terrific, and hey, thanks for the brownies.”

“It’s nothing. I’m glad your momma’s home and that it went well.”

“Yeah, so are we. See you later!”

I went down the stairs with her and then I went around the house to put some water in the bee pans. I heard Archie’s Jeep coming from down the street. He needed a new muffler. It wasn’t any psychic ability that told me that. It was the awful, earsplitting rumble of his vehicle. I got my shears from the shed and began cutting some flowers for Momma’s room. I knew almost to the second how long it would take him to stop, get out, and slam the door. I had become so accustomed to listening for his sounds, I could recognize his footfall on a gravel driveway. I didn’t look up to greet him. In the past, I would’ve fluttered and flittered, finding an excuse to speak to him. Now I ignored him and felt fine about it. He must’ve thought I was deep in thought, because he called out to me sort of loudly.