Buzz Off - By Hannah Reed Page 0,54

again, are you?”

“No, no, I’m not still mad about finding out you were selling honey for Kenny’s Bees as long as you quit.” I didn’t mention that Queen Bee Honey might not even exist in the future.

“I haven’t been over there since our conversation.”

“Good. I need to talk to you about Manny’s bees. They’re missing, and I’m trying to locate them.”

“Did you ask Grace where they went?” Ray readjusted his ball cap.

“She said somebody named Gerald Smith picked them up.”

“Well, there you are.”

“I can’t find him in the directory, and the association never heard of him.”

“Maybe he’s from someplace else.”

“Grace said specifically he was from Manny’s bee association. Have you heard anything on your route?”

Ray looked out over my backyard toward the river, thinking. “I’d heard that Manny had extra-strong colonies and that he wasn’t plagued with colony collapse like a lot of the beekeepers.”

“That’s right,” I said. “He was working on selective breeding, but it was his big secret. That’s all I know. His research was all ‘top secret.’”I used finger quotes to show how top secret it really was. According to Manny, if he came up with a cure for a bee disease or condition, he’d let everyone else know. Other than that, his honey secrets were his private business.

Talking about Manny’s experiments reminded me of his bee journal. I’d have to see if Grace had come across it and ask her again if I could have it.

“Too bad he didn’t tell you more about what he was working on,” Ray said. “There’s money in strong hives.”

“I had my hands full just learning Beekeeping 101 without understanding the financial side of beekeeping.” Which wasn’t exactly true, but it wasn’t any of Ray’s business. Manny’s honey business was a lot of work, but he knew how to turn a profit. “I better get going,” I said. “I’m opening up the store this morning.”

“I have gallons of fresh apple cider from Country Delight Farm,” Ray said. “Want me to drop some off at the market?”

“Sure. By the way, any more trouble with bee stings?”

“No,” he said. “I’m a quick learner.”

I locked up, walked down to The Wild Clover, and went through the routine of opening the store while Ray added gallons of apple cider to my inventory. The phone rang. It was Carrie Ann.

“I can’t make it in today,” she said, sounding like her old, hungover self. “I’m sick.”

How disappointing! I had been rooting for her. At least she’d called in. The old Carrie Ann never even bothered.

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Thanks for the offer. But I just need to sleep it off, I mean, you know, sleep is good for you when you’re sick.”

“Right.”

I heard a voice in the background. “Is that Hunter I hear?”

“That’s him.”

“Tell him I’m sorry I called him a jerk.”

“Tell him yourself.” There were sounds of Carrie Ann passing the phone over.

Jeez. I wasn’t ready for a face-to-face apology, or even a voice-to-voice one. I still didn’t like what he had done, coming on to me while having a relationship with Carrie Ann.

“Hello?” Hunter said innocently.

“I’d like to apologize for calling you names,” I said.

There was a pause. “You only called me one,” he said.

“But I thought more of them in my head.”

“Oh.” Another pause, then, “We should talk.”

“Yes, soon.”

I hung up wondering if I still had to honor my promise to Hunter to give Carrie Ann another chance. He’d continue to push for it, I was sure, and she had been good for a few days. But I didn’t have time to think on the cousin problem any longer because the store got jumping with business.

Stu Trembly came through on his way to the bar. He bought a newspaper and a bag of small chocolate bars.

“Has Carrie Ann been hanging at the bar?” I asked him.

“Last night was the first time this week.”

Confirming my suspicions. “It’s only Tuesday, Stu.”

Aurora Tyler from Moraine Gardens came in for yogurt.

“Any idea who called in that fire alarm?” she still wanted to know.

“Not a hint,” I said. “All I’m sure of is that it wasn’t anybody who was at the meeting.”

“Kids, you think?”

“Probably,” I agreed.

Next, Lori Spandle came in without her headgear, looking for eggs—and trouble.

“My bees are gone,” I told her.

“Good riddance. Mind if I check that out for myself?”

“Go ahead, just don’t put one foot in my yard.”

“Then how can I verify whether you are telling the truth or not?”

“Stu has a canoe. Use the river like the Indians did.”

Lori smirked. “No way. I heard