That—the way he reacted to her—was unlike him. He wasn’t a people person. He liked his privacy. He liked maintaining control of his environment. But Astrid... Well, there was nothing controlled about her. She was comfortable around people, barged in without apology and usurped him without trying. Nova thought she was superhero worthy. Halley thought she was cool. Even he had a long list of mostly complimentary words that suited Astrid. Her continued presence would complicate the uncomplicated summer he needed. So why was he already looking forward to tomorrow morning’s visit?
CHAPTER SEVEN
“TRIPLEDIGITSALLWEEK. Looks like we’ll be breaking records on Friday. Lovely.” Aunt Mags shook out her newspaper. “And not a single drop of rain on the horizon.”
Astrid rinsed her coffee cup in the sink, her gaze fixed on the long, brittle grasses waving in the distance. Without rain, they’d be looking at another drought. No water meant no flowers or blooms and no pollen. Without pollen they’d need to up the supplement feed for the bees.
“Wait an hour, the weather will change.” Aunt Camellia sipped her tea. “Isn’t that what Poppa used to say?”
“Let’s hope he’s right.” Aunt Mags turned to look out the window. “We need a torrential downpour that gives the ground a good soaking.”
“We’ll need to check all the water sources now.” Astrid sniffed the strawberry-honey galette on the wire cooling rack. Tonight’s dessert was mighty tempting.
“I’m on it.” Leif inhaled another slice of honey streusel coffee cake into his mouth.
“Thank you.” She smiled, ever impressed with the amount of food the teen packed away. “I’ve got a feeling we’ll need to do more than feed them syrup.”
“Pollen patties?” Aunt Camellia sipped her tea. “I’ll do a shop and make sure we have enough sugar.” She scribbled something on the tablet at her side.
“You sure?” Dane asked, scanning Aunt Camellia’s note before turning to look at her.
“If Astrid says we need pollen patties, we need pollen patties.” Tansy offered him a bite of her toast. “She is the bee whisperer.”
Dane took a bite. “Got it.”
“What is a pollen patty?” Shelby flipped her spiral notebook full of bee notes. “And when you say syrup, do you mean syrup-syrup?” She ran her finger over the page. “How did I not know we feed the bees?”
Astrid pushed off the counter, stepping over the pile of sleeping dogs, and grabbed a basket. “We like to do as little as possible—and let bees be bees. But we don’t want all the bees to go off in search of greener pastures, so we make sure they’re not starving and give them enough to thrive.”
“Why are you putting cookies into a basket?” Tansy watched as Astrid put two more freshly-baked cookies into the basket. “Are you still trying to win them over?”
“For your information, I’ve won the girls over just fine.” Astrid hesitated, then added a couple more honey-lemon sugar cookies.
“Fine. Are you still trying to winhimover?” Tansy asked.
Astrid was fully aware that every eye—even Lord Byron the parrot—was now focused on her. “No. I’m checking in on the bees. The bees that were kicked over only a few days ago, you’ll remember?” She sighed. “AndI’m being neighborly.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Tansy’s eyes narrowed.
“He’s from Dallas or Fort Worth, isn’t he?” Shelby was feeding Bea some bananas and cereal pieces. “The whole small town, in-your-business thing can be a lot for a city person. I know.” She popped a piece of peach-and-honey muffin into her mouth. “I think it’s sweet you’re trying to make him feel welcome.”
“Thank you.” Astrid felt somewhat vindicated by Shelby’s support.
“There’s something off about the guy.” Dane sat back, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I was a city guy for a while. I’ve never acted like a di—jerk.”
“Hmm?” Tansy smiled and batted her lashes at him. “Really? Are you sure?”
“I don’t think that’s it. He’s just...shy. Out of his element.” Astrid glanced around the table. “From the little I’ve learned, it seems the three of them don’t have the support system we do. It’sjustthe three of them. His wife died a year or so ago. They hadn’t been married very long when that happened. The girls were hers but, now...well, they’re his. And then his aunt dies.” She paused, giving each of them a moment to digest what she’d shared. “I’m not saying he’s not gruff and withdrawn and a bit socially awkward but...he sort of has a right. We should give him a break. And, maybe, a little kindness, too. I think they could all use some of both.”
The whole kitchen was silent then. If they were going to try to judge Charlie’s character then they needed to more fully understand the picture. Whether or not he oozed affection, Charlie wasn’t a bad person.
Dane sighed. “Well, I feel like an ass.”
“I’ll make more cookies.” Aunt Camellia stood. “We should invite them to dinner, shouldn’t we?”
Aunt Magnolia had set aside her newspaper and was studying Astrid. She glanced at the basket. “You go on. And take all the cookies.”
Not long after, she, Oatmeal and Pudding were walking the path to Rebecca Wallace’s slightly slanted purple house. It was barely nine in the morning but the heat was thick and airless. No breeze. No movement. The buzz of cicadas, the gentle symphony of birdcalls, and the swish-swish of the dogs’ tails kept rhythm as they walked the dry foliage lining the footpath.
