Queen Bee (Lowcountry Tales #12) - Dorothea Benton Frank Page 0,25

it and be mortified. I could see the writing on the wall. She was going to have to come up with a story. Maybe she should just tell the truth.

I began peeling the apples into large chunks. I threw some ground sage, cinnamon, and brown sugar on them and browned them a bit in butter in our Dutch oven that was so old I don’t even remember life without it. A few minutes later I heard loud thuds, like things were crashing on the floor. I turned off the stove and went to investigate. It was my lovely sister Leslie, the Princess of Pride, tossing my books and bins from her room to mine.

“What are you doing?” I said.

“I don’t need your shit all over my room. I’ve got a whole trailer to unpack. Did anyone offer to help me? Hell, no! I hate this family!”

I decided to use the voice I used at Publix when it was clear I was dealing with a deranged customer.

“Leslie? You’re angry. You’ve got every right to be.”

“I’m way more than angry!”

“And you’re probably exhausted from your long drive.”

“My shoulders are killing me!”

She leaned against the wall and began to weep all over again. Even though she aggravated me to death, I felt sorry for her. Who else did she have in the world? I threw my arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze.

“Why don’t you go take a good long soak in the bathtub? It would do you a world of good. And if you’ll stop throwing my stuff around, I’ll help you unload your trailer in the morning. How’s that?”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. Oh, Holly! My life is one big mess! How could Charlie do this to me?”

“Because you can only hide your true self for so long? I don’t know. You want a glass of wine?”

“A bottle and a straw would be more like it.”

She attempted a smile, and it was so lopsided and her eyes were so puffy, it made me feel awful for her.

“Archie’s got a new flame,” I said. “A dentist.”

She gave me the funniest look and realized that I had feelings for him. And that I was disappointed.

“Men stink,” she said.

“Yeah, but we love the smell,” I said.

“We must!”

“Go start your bath and I’ll bring you a glass of my best cheap wine.”

Tyler said, “Tell us what happens when the queen dies.”

I said, “Well, in one scenario, worker bees will enlarge normal cells to a size that will accommodate a queen, then flood them with royal jelly. If more than one virgin queen emerges, they fight to the death to see who will rule the hive.”

“Cool.”

Chapter Seven

Bermuda Triangle

Over the next few weeks Archie explored the wonders of his dentist and Leslie wormed her way back into my heart. Deeply destabilized by Charlie’s announcement, she began to change, to get nicer, more considerate. For one thing, she stood up for me with our mother.

“Holly’s not your personal chew toy, Momma.”

“Whatever is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you should quit nitpicking everything she does.”

Momma would harrumph, which was still her signature sound of disapproval, and then proceed to ignore us for a while.

She was my sister, after all, so it was nice to see her act like one. And although Charlie made many attempts to patch things up, Leslie insisted she was through with him.

We were sitting on the front porch having a glass of iced tea and talking like sisters do.

“I just can’t go back, you know?” she said.

“I get it,” I said.

“He’s called me twenty times since I left.”

“Literally?”

She nodded her head.

“That’s a lot,” I said.

“Of all the damn reasons my marriage should fall apart, this was not the one I would’ve picked.”

“Me, either. Were there any signs? I mean, there had to be a hint.”

“The only sign—well, I don’t know if I’d call it a sign, but well, you know how he was always waiting for his father to die so he could inherit?”

“His dad died a few years ago, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, and he inherited a bundle. I say he, because he kept all the money in his name. He said I wasn’t entitled to his parents’ wealth. We needed a new furnace and he said he wasn’t spending his money on it until it was actually dead. I pointed out to him that every year we keep pouring more and more money into it, to the point that it’s just throwing good money after bad. He said put on a sweater and don’t

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