Queen Bee (Lowcountry Tales #12)(98)



“He’s so thick in the head, he didn’t think he was asking for much at all. He hasn’t got the first clue how to take care of anything or anyone except himself. Not even cats. Much less his poor boys.”

“Yes, sweetheart—and yes, I’m calling you sweetheart—if you’d allowed yourself to become actually involved with him in an intimate relationship, you’d have been deprived of any emotional support just like his boys are. You would not have been cherished by him.”

“I see that now.”

“I want more for you, Holly. You are such a lovely young woman in every single way and you deserve so much more than a man like Archie. What I’ve learned and what your sister has learned, both of our lessons coming at a very high price, is the importance of choosing wisely.”

“It’s true.”

“Now, go fix my flowers and hurry up. I need to feel some love.”

I smiled then and so did she.

Of course, the second I opened her door, Leslie and Suzanne nearly tumbled over themselves to get out of the way.

“Let’s get a glass of tea,” I said, picked up the bucket of flowers and my shears in the hall, and they followed me to the kitchen. “Did y’all think I wasn’t going to tell y’all what she said?”

“We just wanted to hear it for ourselves,” Leslie said. “She was actually sweet to you.”

“Yeah, I only had to wait thirty years,” I said and laughed. “And when I think of all the days and nights I wasted thinking about Archie and literally worshipping him from afar, it’s just too stupid. Too stupid.”

I put the bucket of flowers in the sink and gave it a few inches of water.

“Oh, I disagree with that,” Suzanne said. “I don’t think you should ever regret loving anyone. Love is such a miracle. You’ll never know for sure, but maybe you loved him the best he’ll ever know. And maybe when he thinks about it, he’ll be a better person for it.”

Leslie took the pitcher of tea from the refrigerator and put it on the counter. I got three glasses from the cabinet and filled them with ice.

“I’m not sorry I married Charlie,” Leslie said. “I loved him, but I’m not sure I made him a better anything.”

“Can I ask you ladies something?” Suzanne said. “It’s about that pitcher of tea.”

“What about it?” I asked.

“Is it magic? I mean, it’s the best iced tea in the world. But, like, does it refill itself? It never appears to be empty.”

“It never is,” Leslie said. “If it was, I think we’d all shrivel up and die.”





I said, “Did you know you can use honey on a cut or a scrape and it will keep germs out?”

Hunter said, “Is that why they say go lick your wounds?”

“How old are you?” Suzanne said. “Who is this kid?”


Chapter Thirty-Four



Bee Happy

Momma was out of bed and Suzanne was completely dedicated to her full recovery.

“We’re going to take a stroll down to the Obstinate Daughter, that charming little spot named for Char, and have some lunch.”

“I don’t know if I can walk that far,” the QB said.

“Go!” I said. “If you need me, call me. I can come pick you up.”

With that assurance, Momma nodded at Suzanne and they were off.

“I wonder what Jacques and Jonathan are going to say,” Leslie said.

Jacques Larson, the executive chef, and Jonathan Bentley, the general manager, were in charge of almost everything about the restaurant, especially the image. If they looked at Suzanne and loved her, she and the queen would receive the royal treatment—a great table, focused interest on their comfort and enjoyment, and countless freebies from the kitchen. If not, well, I’d get a call soon.

“Um, I feel like every kind of superstar that passes through Charleston goes there, so they’re used to characters showing up at the door,” I said. “I’m not worried.”

While they were at lunch, Ted called. Finally.

“Officer Meyers? I thought maybe you were ghosting me,” I said.

Leslie, who was standing by, wasn’t used to me being even remotely clever. She gave me the strangest look.

He asked me if I would like to have dinner and I said, “Sure. When?”

He said, “I was thinking about tonight.”

“Why not?” I said. “What time?”

“How’s six? I’m done at five and I just have to shower up. I think six is safe,” he said.

“I’ll see you then,” I said and pressed the end button. I must’ve been smiling in a way that Leslie was unfamiliar with, because she still had this very weird look on her face.

“This is your guy,” she said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. I blushed and broke a sweat. “I don’t have a guy, and I don’t need one, either.”

“Uh-huh,” she said. “You’re not the only one in this family who can predict things, you know.”

“I know that.”

The fact was that most of the women in our family on my mother’s side had some kind of weird gift. My grandmother used to dream about hearses driving by and she’d know someone was about to drop dead. If the dream was accompanied by a death knock the next day—that is, a loud knocking on your door but no one’s there—then she knew it was a family member. My aunt, the QB’s sister, who’d gone to her reward years ago, could tell you who was calling before the telephone rang. And she could predict rain by the shape of the crescent moon, and the gender of unborn babies. And me? I knew that eventually I’d be teaching at Sullivan’s Island Elementary School because I could see myself in the classroom there. And I knew my bees heard me. And a few other oddities. But I couldn’t see myself married to anyone. I sort of hoped Leslie was right.

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