Queen Bee (Lowcountry Tales #12) - Dorothea Benton Frank Page 0,106

swarmed her—if they did, that is—unless she provoked them, which she did. In any case, she shouldn’t have been sneaking around in my backyard.”

“Agreed. So, I’ve got to push on. I’ve got depositions all afternoon. Nothing as colorful as this, however.” He stood to leave. “Now, should anyone from the press or television call, tell them you’re not talking except to say it’s a great relief to know that the bees had nothing to do with Sharon’s death and that you offer condolences to her family as well as Archie’s. And not one more word after that, okay?”

“Okay. Come on. Let me cut some flowers for Darlene. I’ll give you a container of water to put them in.”

“That would be awfully nice. Thank you.”

I sent Mark away with dozens of roses and dahlias and he couldn’t get over the fragrance. He said they smelled like heaven. I had to agree.

I looked over at Archie’s house. I couldn’t understand the silence. At this point he had to know the truth about what really happened. Why didn’t he want to talk to me? Maybe he was freaked out that he had to go through another funeral. Maybe he was unhappy that the boys weren’t mourning Sharon. Maybe he was embarrassed that he hadn’t done enough to protect his boys. Maybe, maybe, maybe. The fact was that their curtains were closed, and I only saw the boys as they ran to and from the house.

Hunter had finally healed well enough to be back on his bicycle and tearing down the street with Tyler in his wake. I called Maureen to give her the update and see what she might know.

“No kidding. A heart attack! Wow,” she said.

“Yep, and she was the one trying to kill my bees, not the other way around.”

“I’ll be darned. Well, the boys have been over here a lot, swimming and playing with Matthew. They seem to be fine. In fact, they seem the happiest I’ve seen them since Tyler’s birthday.”

“I’ll bet so. Now, there’s going to be a funeral, and I’m sure I’m not welcome there, even though she was the one trespassing with bad intentions.”

“That’s nonsense, Holly. You should absolutely go to the funeral. If you don’t, you’ll look guilty.”

“Maybe,” I said. “You know what? This might sound crazy, but in some really weird way, I feel like I’m being punished for Sharon’s bad behavior. Is that my imagination or does the world just have to have someone to blame?”

“I know what you mean, but I think that once the truth gets around, people’s suspicions will go away.”

“I hope you’re right.”

I was working on convincing myself of my complete innocence and doing a so-so job of it. I wondered what would happen if I tried to enlist the bees’ help with Archie. Maybe I’d just go sit with them for a bit and calm myself.

I felt a little shaken that the boys transferred their affection for me so quickly into a friendship with Matthew, but then I knew in my heart that all those little boys ever wanted after they lost their mother was to feel normal again. Sharon in their lives was a thousand steps backward, but a friendship with a classmate who had a nice family was a much-needed leap forward. Still, when I should’ve been congratulating myself on a job well done—that is, helping the boys survive their hideous stepmother and their useless father—I couldn’t help missing having them around. Or being needed.

Leslie and Momma came in around four o’clock.

“I’m exhausted,” Momma said. “Let your sister fill you in. I’m going to lie down for a bit.”

“Okay,” I said and turned to Leslie. “What did the doctors say?”

“There’s a slight change in the tumor on her liver and they want to zap it with a targeted chemo.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, it’s pretty incredible, really. They snake this probe through your groin to the exact position of the tumor and then they give it a shot of chemo, killing it.”

“I thought they said her tumor was benign,” I said.

“I guess they saw something to the contrary this time,” Leslie said.

“When is this supposed to be happening?”

“They’re going to call her in the morning with a time. Actually, it’s not supposed to be a big deal. They do the procedure, which takes about an hour. Then they keep you overnight just to be sure you’re stable. Then you go home.”

“What if the tumor grows back?”

“Then they do it again, I guess,” Leslie said.

“Man,” I said. “Momma’s

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