“Always.” Rosemary finished wiping off the glass counter. “There is no one else I can rely on to make sure I knoweverythingthat’s happening with who and where.”
“It’s true.” Nicole nodded. “I knowallthe things.” As a lifelong Honey resident and part-owner of the local Busy Bee Beauty Salon, Nicole had the inside scoop on pretty much anyone and anything worth knowing. But unlike her mother, Nicole only shared with the Hill women, affectionately referred to as the Bee Girls—and never with malicious intent.
“I keep thinking Willadeene is going to mellow with age.” Nicole plugged in the vacuum. “But how much older does she have to get?” She turned it on and ran it over the small honeycomb-print rug that covered the boutique floor, singing the latest Taylor Swift song loudly and off-key.
Rosemary was laughing again. She stared around her family’s boutique with a full heart. She might not have planned to come home this way, but it was just what she needed. Familiar smiles and spaces and names. A slower pace. It was nice to have time to truly appreciate the world around her—not just the slides on her microscope and the work in her lab.
“Is it clean enough? Think Aunt Camellia would approve?” Nicole asked, peering around the shop.
The Hill Honey Boutique was their aunts’ pet project—and their pride and joy. The tiny little Main Street shop featured all sorts of beekeeping tools and novelties, fresh honey, coloring and recipe books, and more. Everything they carried was hand-selected and, preferably, made by local artisans and crafters. Aunt Camellia had exacting standards on what they soldandhow welcoming and tidy the shop was kept.
Rosemary took a long assessing look around the space. “I think so.” She smiled. “We can call it a day and lock up.”
“Oh good.” Nicole stowed the vacuum in the back stockroom. “Are you sure you don’t need a ride?”
“I’m certain. We’re going to eat at Delaney’s before the meeting tonight.” She glanced at the honey-hive cuckoo clock on the wall. “I’m supposed to meet them in ten minutes or so. With Aunt Camellia on her honeymoon, mealtime has been more fend-for-yourself than usual.”
“Really?” Nicole shot her a surprised look.
“Well, Aunt Mags is dealing with Shelby and baby Bea and Roman—”
“Ooh, right, the hot widower guy.” Nicole grinned. “I’m not normally into silver foxes, but wowza, he is easy on the eyes.”
“I’m not sure Aunt Mags has noticed.” Rosemaryhadnoticed the tension between the two of them.
Of all the surprises she’d come home to, learning her beloved Aunt Mags’s secret was the biggest. As in, a secret baby she’d given up when she was a teenager. If Shelby hadn’t shown up on the front porch—with her own baby on her hip—looking for her birth mother, Rosemary wondered if they’d ever have known about Shelby. Aunt Mags had always valued her privacy.
But now Shelby and her baby, Bea, were a fixture at Honey Hill Farms.
How Shelby’s adoptive father, Roman Dunholm, was going to fit into the mix was still a bit of a mystery. As a widower, he’d missed his daughter and granddaughter and had stopped off in Honey to surprise them. It had been a surprise, all right. Even more surprising? Aunt Mags inviting the man to stay for a while.
“Mags has totally noticed. Are you kidding?” Nicole wiggled her eyebrows. “It won’t be long before the two of them are doing the horizontal mambo—if you know what I mean?”
“Ick.” Rosemary grimaced, collecting the stack of mail from the counter. “I know what you mean.”
“Whatever. Someone should be getting some.” Nicole sighed. “Speaking of... What do you make of this whole Everett bachelor thing?”
“That was a leap.” Rosemary frowned.
“Was it?” She shrugged. “I bet he’s getting all sorts of attention from that article. From ladies, I mean. Didn’t that picture make him look dreamy?” She waited for Rosemary to nod. “Too bad Everett’s always been like a brother to me.” She sighed. “I mean, he’s the real thing, you know? A decent guy. You know, a unicorn.”
“He is.” She wished she’d had more time to catch up with him, but she understood. He had a whole lot on his plate right now—she’d seen the strain on his face.
“Anyway, I’ll be at the meeting, but first I’ve got the whole bedtime routine with Ginger. I can’t ask Benji to do that. He’s still a kid, you know?” Nicole stood aside while Rosemary locked the bright yellow front door of the boutique. “It’s sure to be an interesting evening.” She waved as she climbed into her little truck parked right out front. She started the engine, triggering a series of not-so-comforting rattles and thumps. “It’s fine.”
Rosemary winced when Nicole shifted from Reverse into Drive. “I hate to tell you this, but that metal-on-metal grinding that’s happening—” she pointed at the truck “—isn’t normal.”
“I know.” Nicole sighed. “But it’s only when I change gears. It’s fine now.” She winked at her. “See you later.”
“Night.” Rosemary waved, cringing at the metal scraping that echoed as Nicole drove away, then walked down Main Street toward Delaney’s.
From the number of cars and trucks lining the street, Delaney’s was busy. She sat on the bench out front and flipped through the mail. One envelope in particular caught her eye. The Annual Texas Beekeeper’s Convention. Itwasthat time of year, and oh, the timing was perfect. She needed something to help her shake off her funk, and this was just the thing. A long weekend of bee-loving, bee-focused lectures and hands-on classes from the country’s leading experts to motivate and excite her. She opened the program, scanning over this year’s offerings.
Best practices of queen-rearing. Organic treatments for mite prevention. New revenue streams through agritourism and beekeeping classes. Honeybee removals. And more. She was familiar with several of the presenters and knew they’d have useful information. It would be good to reconnect with other professionals—to feel valued and exchange ideas and knowledge for the good of the industry. But then she saw the keynote speaker, and she crumpled the brochure in her hands.
Dr. James Voigt discusses his genome-mapping project. With plans to assemble the most high-quality maps of the genomes of at least 125 bee species, Dr. Voigt seeks to identify and target the specific genetic differences between bee species, highlight strengths and weaknesses, and eventually, link functions to specific genes.
It went on, but she stopped reading. She knew what it said; it was her summation. Almost word-for-word. The man really had no conscience. None. It turned her stomach.
