Buzz Off - By Hannah Reed Page 0,58

didn’t help with the photographs at all?” I was pretty sure she had sliced me out, but wanted to confirm it.

“Grace made a few . . . uh . . . changes.” He had the decency to look embarrassed.

Grams and Mom arrived and agreed that Manny looked good in death, an observation they made at every funeral they attended. He certainly looked much better than the last time I’d seen him, when he’d been lying in the beeyard, swollen and red.

But the fact that I’d never see him again hit hard as I stood in line to offer my condolences. When my turn came, I extended my sympathies and gave Grace a hug. She stayed stiff like she couldn’t bear the thought of being touched by me.

“Did Grace hug you back?” I said to Mom a little later when she and Grams had gone through the line.

“Of course,” Mom said, then gave me a stern scowl and offered a tissue. “Get a grip, Story. Pull yourself together.”

“Here,” Grams said, digging in her purse, removing the cap from a medicine bottle and shaking out a little white pill. “Take this. You’ll feel better.”

Mom intercepted it. “She doesn’t need a Valium. And where on earth did you get your hands on those?”

“I keep a few for emergencies,” Grams said. “Times like now.”

She slipped one to me when Mom wasn’t looking. I wasn’t much of a drug user, preferring to stay away from even the basics such as cold meds and common pain relievers like ibuprofen. This time, though, under the circumstances, I popped the pill. After all, it came from my grandmother. How harmful could it be?

Fifteen minutes later, I was standing with Stanley Peck and Emily Nolan from the library, feeling much better. I wore a silly little grin. In spite of my efforts, it wouldn’t go away.

“How are you doing?” Stanley said, putting one arm around me and squeezing. “You spent more time with Manny than most of us did. This whole thing must be rough on you.”

I nodded, forcing the corners of my lips down. “Life seems upside down without him,” I agreed, briefly imagining a tilted universe.

“Nobody’s been bothering you or your bees lately, have they?”

I shook my head.

“Speaking of bees,” Emily said, looking at Stanley. “Are you enjoying the beekeeping book you checked out of the library? Sorry we only had one, but we’re so small I have to be very careful what I order. Maybe I could do a search for you with other libraries if you want more.”

Odd, I thought. This news seemed relatively important considering all the missing bees, but I couldn’t seem to keep my focus.

“I didn’t know you were interested in raising honeybees,” I said to Stanley, who had the same trapped-animal look I’d seen on DeeDee Becker only a few hours earlier.

“I like learning about all kinds of things, is all,” he said. “No big deal.”

“Well,” Emily said, “let me know if you want a few more.”

“One is plenty,” Stanley said.

The church filled up for the viewing. Based on past funerals in our community, most everybody would stay for the funeral service, then head to Stu’s. Except Manny’s family. They’d have a sit-down dinner someplace else.

Hunter Wallace came up to me. Looking around, I didn’t see Carrie Ann.

“Where’s your new friend?” I wanted to know.

“In the truck.”

“You left her in the truck?”

“Him,” Hunter said. “Ben’s a him.”

I stared at him blankly.

“You’re asking about my dog, right?”

Oh, right.

“Sure,” I said. The pill Grams had given me was doing a fine job of keeping me composed. The problem was, it couldn’t determine which parts of my brain to shut down and which ones to keep in operation. So it shut down everything. And I noticed that concentrating on any one thing was impossible.

I was trying to remember something about Stanley. What was it?

I noticed that people had started to look away when I met their gaze. Or they were whispering but stopped when I wandered by. What was up with that?

This wasn’t the first time I’d encountered this behavior. Live and let live was my new philosophy. If they knew something about me that I didn’t, someone would eventually clue me in. Or . . . oh, well, who cared? The paranoid thought escaped into the vast emptiness of my drugged mind.

I kind of liked shutting down. I should do this more often.

Grace came up to me. “Did you run across Manny’s bee journal?” she asked.

“Nope. I looked for it last time I