Queen Bee (Lowcountry Tales #12) - Dorothea Benton Frank Page 0,42

if he’d picked up a stranger off the street. That’s what I think.”

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” she said.

“You were really sweet to them,” I said.

“Well, those poor little guys have been through enough. I just feel for them, that’s all. I mean, come on! They’ve grown up right under my nose. They’re just defenseless little boys with no say in the matter. I know that’s how these things go, but somehow it doesn’t seem fair that they don’t even get a vote.”

It wasn’t like her to be so sympathetic, but there she was, sympathy itself.

“No, it doesn’t seem fair at all. You’d think he’d sit them down and talk about it at length. Not just announce it, like here’s your new future.”

“You don’t think he talked to them?”

“No. And I really would’ve thought there would have been more time spent with Sharon to let the boys have a chance to get used to her. You know? Like movies or picnics? Just something more than this.”

“Holly, you don’t know men. This is classic. If this marriage is good for him, then it’s good for everyone. I’m sure he’s thinking the kids will adjust. And to be honest? Most kids do. But then most candidates for stepmother try harder than this one. They try to win over the kids.”

“She hasn’t done any campaigning to win over the kids, as far as I know.”

“She didn’t have to, because Archie wants this to happen so much.”

“Momma? I think you’re right. I don’t know men. But I know skunk when I smell it.”

We heard a shuffling in the hall.

“The family floozy is awake,” Momma said.

“Oh, Momma, don’t call her that.”

Another harrumph.

“Do you think I don’t know what goes on under my own roof?” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m going to go take a nap. All this excitement is elevating my pressure. Too much.”

I didn’t respond except to say, “Okay.”

I took a package of chopped meat out of the refrigerator and reached for an onion. Meat loaf was destined to be the star of tonight’s menu.

“We got any coffee?” Leslie said, coming into the kitchen.

Her hair was all tangled, her T-shirt was all baggy over her plaid flannel drawstring pants, and her robe was untied. She was scratching her stomach.

“You look like who did it and ran,” I said.

“That’s exactly what happened,” she said, examining the empty and clean interior of our coffeemaker. “And boy, was it fun!”

“You’re terrible,” I said. “Coffee’s in the cabinet.”

“So, what did I miss?” she said.

“Archie’s engaged. And he told the boys.”

“How did that go over?” she asked.

“Not well at all.”

“No surprise there. Nope, none at all,” she said and filled the pot with water. “Where are the filters?”

“Pantry. Second shelf.”

“So when’s the wedding?”

“Soon. As he said. Right after Easter.”

“What a sin. Awful.”

“I know it’s happening, and I know we can’t stop it from happening, but I wish something would happen to end the nightmare.”

“You know, Holly, I was thinking about this whole deal while I was regaining consciousness from a night of utter debauchery, and . . .”

“I’m worried about you,” I said. “It ain’t fittin’, what you’re doing. You’re not divorced, you know.”

“Let me finish. We can save my eternal soul in a few minutes.”

“Continue. You were thinking . . .”

“That in our minds, we may be overblowing this. I think that as long as they don’t move off the island, the risk to the kids is probably nominal.”

“Leslie, let me ask you something. Would you like to live with someone who didn’t like you? Because that’s really the core problem here.”

“Well, maybe you can guide the boys to endear themselves to her.”

“I think they’d rather take a bullet,” I said. “Their suspicions of her and their distaste for her run deep.”

“No, really. I’m serious.”

“I’m thinking, and I cannot conceive of a single thing they could do. A craft? She’d probably laugh at it. I mean, I could give them flowers from my garden for her or something like that.”

The coffee was dripping, and it smelled so good, I decided I’d have a cup as well.

“That’s a good start,” Leslie said. “Everyone loves flowers.”

“It’s going to take a whole lot more than flowers to cement that relationship,” I said.

I left Leslie in the kitchen and I took my mug to the porch. The fading light of the afternoon was wrapping everything in rosy hues. The truth was that I didn’t want Archie’s marriage to Sharon to work. If I couldn’t stop it from happening, then I

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