“Unless you’re programming the radio playlist, you don’t need to apologize.” Besides, it was ridiculous for the song to still get to her. It was just a song. And, if she could ever disentangle said song from the look on Dane’s face during one of the more humiliating experiences of her life, it would probably still be one of her favorite songs.
Astrid settled on a safe classical music station for the remainder of the drive, talking about Nicole’s dating app life and the possibility of venturing into breeding queen bees as another income stream.
Finally, they were bouncing down the rough gravel road that led to the periphery of the Madigans’ property line, then Tansy parked and gave Astrid a look.
Astrid gave her a thumbs-up.
“I’ll get the smoker started.” Tansy held out the garment bag to Astrid, then reached for the cylinder smoker. She opened the funnel-like top, added bits of burlap inside the metal canister, and lit the fabric on fire. It would take a few minutes before it was smoking well so she set the handheld smoker on a large flat rock to burn down.
“Good?” Astrid asked, securing the front zipper beneath the Velcro seal and holding out her arms for inspection.
Tansy turned Astrid around, double-checking for any potential points of entry and applying tape as necessary. “Good.”
“Your turn.” Astrid stood aside, tape at the ready, as Tansy pulled on her well-worn white keeper suit. In Texas, the vented suits were almost a requirement. Today offered a glorious May morning with springlike temperatures and a light breeze but by noon, it would be inching into the nineties. In August, the heat was downright miserable. Without the ventilated suits, they’d be dripping sweat and soaked through, facing potential heat exhaustion before they’d finished inspecting the hives.
“Give me a slow spin.” Astrid stepped back to watch, then knelt, taping Tansy’s elasticized pant cuffs tight against her brown leather work boots. She stood, added a piece over the slight gap at the top of one of Tansy’s zippers and nodded. “Clear.”
Tansy gauged the slow burn inside the smoker, closed the funnel-topped lid and gave the bellows a few quick pumps. Clean white smoke billowed into the morning air.
“Good to go.” Astrid gave her a glove-covered thumbs-up. “Who knows, maybe they’ll be more cheerful this time?” She handed Tansy a J hive tool, shrugged, and stuck an L hive tool and frame grip into one of her oversize pockets. “Maybe?”
“Sure.” She knew Astrid couldn’t see her roll her eyes, but there was no stopping it. In the two years they’d kept these bees, the bees had never—not once—been anywhere close to cheerful. “Anything’s possible.”
“That’s the spirit.” Astrid set off, giggling, smoker in hand, for the row of bright white boxes along the tree line.
“Let’s do it.” Tansy pulled their handy wooden wagon with an array of supplies along behind her.
With Hill bees, smoke wasn’t always necessary, with the Madigan bees, smoke was required. They puffed smoke into and around the hive to intercept the bees’ communication signals before they ever cracked the hive open. Then, after more puffs, the frame-by-frame inspection could begin. If the hive looked healthy and their honey stores abundant, the sisters would trade out a few honey-full frames with the empty ones in Tansy’s wagon.
Astrid worked the lid loose and removed it carefully, using the tool to make just enough room to slide the frame perch into place. Her sister worked slowly, her movements calm and steady, easing the frames in the box apart. “Something tells me they’re not happy to see us.” She pulled one frame up for inspection.
“I’m getting that. The smoke isn’t making a bit of difference.” Tansy pressed the bellows a few more times, hoping to calm the bees swirling around them, stinging their gloves, landing on their suits and veils, and generally making their displeasure known.
“Not much.” But Astrid kept working, pulling up another frame. “But they’ve been busy.” There was a smile in her voice, completely calm as she finished inspecting each one.
Astrid gently brushed some bees aside. “Bingo.” She turned, placed the honey-laden frame into their extra box and replacing it inside the hive with a clean frame the bees would immediately set to work on. “Next.”
Two hours later, they were driving back to Honey.
“One got you right there.” Astrid pointed at her cheek.
“I know.” She’d come out with only one sting, so she had no complaints—especially considering the amount of honey they’d managed to harvest.
Astrid leaned forward, directing the air-conditioning vent onto her face. “That feels so good.” She twisted up her long strawberry blonde hair and clipped it up on top of her head. “Much better. Are we heading to Lorna’s now?”
Tansy nodded, she and Astrid singing along to songs on the radio until they’d reached Honey. The Frankses lived in a cute cottage on one of the oak-lined streets a few blocks off Main Street. They parked the van, grabbed the still-cold insulated bag of food and knocked on the front door.
One look at Lorna and Tansy couldn’t argue with Van’s description. Poor Lorna didlook ready to pop.It took effort not to stare at the woman’s stomach. Lorna was tiny, not much taller than five feet, andallbelly. If a strong wind hit her, she’d probably tip over.
“Camellia is so sweet.” Lorna started moving the containers into the freezer. “Our freezer is so full I won’t have to worry about either of us going hungry.”
“Is he excited?” Astrid asked, handing her containers.
“He’s all nerves.” Lorna laughed. “He’s not sleeping well. And all I have to do is make a funny face and he’s running for the car keys. Poor thing.”
Tansy found herself staring at Lorna’s stomach, feeling all sorts of sympathy for Bud.
“He’s going to be the best father.” Astrid sounded almost dreamy.
