Buzz Off - By Hannah Reed Page 0,35

said. “Your bees are a danger to our community and to our lives.”

“My bees don’t roam as far as Country Delight Farm,” I lied.

“Stanley says different,” she said.

“Well, she asked,” Stanley said with a faint whine when he saw the look I gave him. “So I looked it up. Bees can go farther than two miles if they want to.”

“We are going to take care of this right now,” Lori said, producing a spray can from out of nowhere.

People can be dumb as dirt, especially dopey, overly aggressive real estate agents named Lori. “You can’t spray bees during the day,” I said. “Not that I would let you do it at any time, day or night.”

“Oh, yeah?” Lori moved forward, taking my statement as the challenge I meant it to be. If she sprayed my honeybees, some of them would die, but the rest would go on attack and we’d have to run for our lives. And if they didn’t kill Lori, I would.

To end an already bad situation, I gave Lori a push backward, putting some muscle into it because she was moving forward fast, and I wanted to do more than stop her in her tracks. We were surrounded by spectators, everybody focused on Lori and me. I felt like a chicken in a ring.

Lori stumbled and flew back, looking like she would fall down if I so much as nudged her with my index finger, then she regained her footing and came up with her veil askew. She flung it off, and I noticed that her round face had turned the color of my ripe Roma tomatoes lying on the patio table. Her eyes shot daggers at me.

“Back off,” I warned, when I saw that she was readjusting herself for another attack. “Somebody restrain her. Please.”

Everybody looked stricken. Nobody moved.

Lori came directly at me, with the poisonous spray can pointed at my face. Was she insane? Would she really spray bee poison in my face? Finally her mob of “do-gooders” decided to react. Several hands clutched at her when they realized what she was up to.

“Clay!” I shouted. “Call the police!”

“That won’t be necessary,” Stanley yelled, as a shot exploded. Everyone froze. My ears rang like my head had been banged on both sides with cymbals. A few people dove for the ground. Some had their hands over their ears and stunned looks on their faces and round O’s for mouths.

I blinked a few times and shook my head to clear it.

Stanley kept his loaded pistol raised in the air for effect. “Clear out!” he said. “Now! Especially you, Lori.”

“We never would have come along,” someone else grumbled, “if we’d known that Lori was going to get physical. We were just supposed to talk it out.”

“You can’t fire a weapon in town,” Lori shouted at Stanley. “Are you crazy?” But she backed off and put the spray can away. Then she pointed at me. “Story Fischer attacked me, and you all saw it. I’m calling you as witnesses when I sue her butt for assault.”

“Story was only protecting her property,” Stanley said. By now the pistol had vanished to wherever he’d kept it hidden before. “You’ll be lucky if Story doesn’t file charges against you. Now, go! Get out of here.”

My uninvited backyard guests cleared out, except for Stanley. P. P. Patti ducked back through the hedge; I was sure she was racing for her phone and the gossip freeway. I saw Clay go back inside without lifting a finger to help. Another mark against him.

Lori’s bee veil was still on the grass. She’d forgotten it in her hasty retreat. I picked it up and put it on the patio table.

“You just got added to Lori’s list, too,” I said to Stanley.

“Once she goes after you, she never backs down. I’m finding that out the hard way.”

“She doesn’t bother me a bit. Let her start in on me. We’ll see who’s toughest.”

At that, I opened my arms and rushed Stanley. While I was giving him a happy hug for saving the situation from escalating to who-knew-where, Hunter came around the side of the house with his dog, Ben, and stopped in his tracks. I still had Stanley in a bear hug. Looking over his shoulder, I saw Hunter take a step back as if he wanted to hustle back around the corner except that I’d spotted him already.

I let Stanley go. What did Hunter think? That he’d interrupted us in a romantic clench? Stanley was much older