Queen Bee

by Dorothea Benton Frank

  “Well! Hello, gentlemen! How was your day?” I said, standing to greet them.

  I folded my paper as though it didn’t matter anymore. It didn’t. The most important news had arrived in person.

  “Terrible,” Tyler said.

  “Yeah,” Hunter said. “Terrible. I threw up my lunch.”

  “Come here, sweetheart,” I said.

  “Luckily, he didn’t barf on himself,” Tyler said.

  I put my arms around Hunter and he just leaned into me like dead weight. Poor little fellow.

  “All right, now,” I said, “Miss Katherine actually baked some cookies for y’all.” I held Hunter back and looked into his eyes. “Do you think your tender constitutions can handle warm chocolate chip cookies and a glass of milk?”

  “I can,” Tyler said.

  “I’ll try,” Hunter said.

  “Then let’s go inside. Go wash your hands and meet me in the kitchen.”

  They nodded and went toward the bathroom. Momma was in the kitchen, scooping the cookies onto a platter with a spatula.

  “I made a dozen or so. Do you think that’s enough?” she said.

  “Well, young boys are eating machines,” I said. “And these two need some serious TLC this afternoon.”

  “He told them?” she said.

  “Yes,” I said. “They’re not happy at all.”

  “How could they be?”

  Momma gave me one of her signature harrumphs. We were still incredulous over Archie’s judgment. It was still less than a year since Carin died. Nothing, not one thing, about this upcoming marriage felt right.

  The boys came in with long faces and slumped into their chairs at the table.

  “Hey, Miss Katherine,” Tyler said. “How’re you?”

  “Yeah, hi, Miss Katherine,” Hunter said.

  They felt hopeless.

  “White milk or chocolate milk?” my mother said.

  She was going all out.

  “Chocolate,” they said and then added, “Thanks.”

  The sighing coming from Tyler and Hunter was profound. They perked up a little when the glasses of chocolate milk were delivered with the warm cookies. They smelled so good, I reached for one. Momma swatted the back of my hand.

  “Those are not for you, Holly. If you want cookies, I imagine you know how to bake them?”

  I cut her some side eye and she gave it right back to me. Tyler and Hunter giggled and it lightened the mood a little bit.

  “She’s a mean old thing,” I said to them.

  “Watch your mouth,” Momma said and winked at the boys.

  “Okay, let’s hear the story,” I said.

  “My life just blew up,” Tyler said.

  “Yeah,” Hunter said. “Mine, too.”

  “Oh, come on now,” I said. “Look, maybe it won’t be a bad thing. Maybe she’ll turn out to be a lot of fun. And the next thing you know, you’ll both be going to college and then out into the world to do great things!”

  “For once, I agree with my daughter,” Momma said. “And you know what? Sharon might be really nervous about getting married and suddenly, boom! She’s a stepmom, too! It’s a lot for her to take on. Think about it.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “If you two wanted to make your daddy happy, and I know you do, you’ll be happy for him.”

  “Yeah, we know all that, right?” Tyler looked at Hunter who was nodding in agreement. “But here’s the thing. We don’t need another mother. We’re fine just like we are.”

  “I understand, and I see why life’s working for you,” I said. “But grown-ups are different. Well, not every single one, but most adults like to have a partner. It’s normal to want to have someone who likes what you like and wants to do the things you like to do. You know what I’m talking about?”

  “And I wouldn’t be surprised,” Momma said, “if she’s more of a partner to your dad than a stepmom to y’all. I mean, I think she’s pretty busy and I’d be surprised if she interfered with things as long as they’re going along smoothly.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Tyler said.

  “I don’t know,” Hunter said.

  “Listen, here’s my free advice,” I said. “Just take things one day at a time. And trust your dad. You know he wants only the best for both of you.”

  “I know,” Tyler said.

  “Your dad is super smart, Tyler. I’ve never seen him do anything crazy,” I said. I picked up their glasses and rinsed them in the sink.

  “Until now,” Hunter said.

  “Now, now,” Momma said.

  In the distance, we heard Archie’s car door slam.

  “Dad’s home,” Tyler said.

  “Party’s over,” Hunter said.

  They gathered up their things, started to leave, and then turned back to face us. I could see that Tyler’s eyes were moist.

  “Mith Holly? If things get really terrible, can we come live with you?”

  “Oh, Tyler,” I said.

  “This is still my house,” Momma said. “But the door is always open for you both.”

  Then, to my further surprise, Tyler and Hunter rushed to my mother and threw their arms around her. She was breathless from the impact and surprise of it. Before either one of us could think of what to say, they turned and ran out of the house, slamming the screen door.

  Momma and I looked at each other.

  “What do you think is going to happen?” she said.

  “I think that Archie will be happy for a while, but I don’t think he could have chosen a worse stepmother for those boys if he’d picked up a stranger off the street. That’s what I think.”

  “I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” she said.

  “You were really sweet to them,” I said.

  “Well, those poor little guys have been through enough. I just feel for them, that’s all. I mean, come on! They’ve grown up right under my nose. They’re just defenseless little boys with no say in the matter. I know that’s how these things go, but somehow it doesn’t seem fair that they don’t even get a vote.”

  It wasn’t like her to be so sympathetic, but there she was, sympathy itself.

  “No, it doesn’t seem fair at all. You’d think he’d sit them down and talk about it at length. Not just announce it, like here’s your new future.”

  “You don’t think he talked to them?”

  “No. And I really would’ve thought there would have been more time spent with Sharon to let the boys have a chance to get used to her. You know? Like movies or picnics? Just something more than this.”

  “Holly, you don’t know men. This is classic. If this marriage is good for him, then it’s good for everyone. I’m sure he’s thinking the kids will adjust. And to be honest? Most kids do. But then most candidates for stepmother try harder than this one. They try to win over the kids.”

  “She hasn’t done any campaigning to win over the kids, as far as I know.”

  “She didn’t have to, because Archie wants this to happen so much.”

  “Momma? I think you’re right. I don’t know men. But I know skunk when I smell it.”

  We heard a shuffling in the hall.

  “The family floozy is awake,” Momma said.

  “Oh, Momma, don’t call her that.”

  Another harrumph.

  “Do you think I don’t know what goes on under my own roof?” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m going to go take a nap. All this excitement is elevating my pressure. Too much.”

  I didn’t respond except to say, “Okay.”

  I took a package of chopped meat out of the refrigerator and reached for an onion. Meat loaf was destined to be the star of tonight’s menu.

  “We got any coffee?” Leslie said, coming into the kitchen.

  Her hair was all tangled, her T-shirt was all baggy over her plaid flannel drawstring pants, and her robe was untied. She was scratching her stomach.

  “You look like who did it and ran,” I said.

  “That’s e
xactly what happened,” she said, examining the empty and clean interior of our coffeemaker. “And boy, was it fun!”

  “You’re terrible,” I said. “Coffee’s in the cabinet.”

  “So, what did I miss?” she said.

  “Archie’s engaged. And he told the boys.”

  “How did that go over?” she asked.

  “Not well at all.”

  “No surprise there. Nope, none at all,” she said and filled the pot with water. “Where are the filters?”

  “Pantry. Second shelf.”

  “So when’s the wedding?”

  “Soon. As he said. Right after Easter.”

  “What a sin. Awful.”

  “I know it’s happening, and I know we can’t stop it from happening, but I wish something would happen to end the nightmare.”

  “You know, Holly, I was thinking about this whole deal while I was regaining consciousness from a night of utter debauchery, and . . .”

  “I’m worried about you,” I said. “It ain’t fittin’, what you’re doing. You’re not divorced, you know.”

  “Let me finish. We can save my eternal soul in a few minutes.”

  “Continue. You were thinking . . .”

  “That in our minds, we may be overblowing this. I think that as long as they don’t move off the island, the risk to the kids is probably nominal.”

  “Leslie, let me ask you something. Would you like to live with someone who didn’t like you? Because that’s really the core problem here.”

  “Well, maybe you can guide the boys to endear themselves to her.”

  “I think they’d rather take a bullet,” I said. “Their suspicions of her and their distaste for her run deep.”

  “No, really. I’m serious.”

  “I’m thinking, and I cannot conceive of a single thing they could do. A craft? She’d probably laugh at it. I mean, I could give them flowers from my garden for her or something like that.”

  The coffee was dripping, and it smelled so good, I decided I’d have a cup as well.

  “That’s a good start,” Leslie said. “Everyone loves flowers.”

  “It’s going to take a whole lot more than flowers to cement that relationship,” I said.

  I left Leslie in the kitchen and I took my mug to the porch. The fading light of the afternoon was wrapping everything in rosy hues. The truth was that I didn’t want Archie’s marriage to Sharon to work. If I couldn’t stop it from happening, then I wanted it to end as quickly as possible.

  Unique among all God’s creatures, only the honey bee improves the environment and preys not on any other species.

  —Royden Brown, Author of The World’s Only Perfect Food: The Bee Pollen Bible

  Chapter Twelve

  Roofie

  The next day, my cell phone rang, I answered it, and to my utter astonishment it was Sharon. She was not calling for her patient, my mother. She was calling for me. And I knew exactly why.

  “Holly?” she said. “It’s Sharon.”

  “Oh, hi, Sharon. What’s going on?”

  “Well, Arch and I finally decided where we’d go for a honeymoon, and . . .”

  Arch? When did he become Arch?

  “Oh? Where are you going?”

  “Bermuda. And we were wondering if we might . . .”

  “How lovely. I’ve always wanted to go to Bermuda.”

  She must be calling to ask me to keep the kids while she and Arch went away. Why else would she call? Because she was running a special on veneers? Or Invisalign? Gimme a break.

  “Yes, well, you should go. It’s completely charming. Anyway, we were wondering if . . .”

  “I’d be delighted to take care of the boys.” Forever, I thought.

  “You would? Oh, that’s just great! Another detail to check off the list as done! Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome. How long will you be gone?”

  “Oh, just a week. You know our calendars are insane and well, I really can’t be away for too long. Anyway, this time we want to compensate you. Arch insists.”

  “I wish he wouldn’t,” I said.

  “Look, we have to spend fifty dollars a day to board my cats. So it only seems fair to give you at least the same for the boys.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. I knew I was hypersensitive when it came to the boys and this wedding and Sharon and all of it, but to put the boys in a similar category as her cats? Should I have asked if that was fifty dollars per cat?

  “I’d be happy to take care of them. Let’s just leave it at that. Do y’all have a date yet?”

  “Yep.”

  She gave me the date and I wrote it down. We made a bit of insincere chitchat and a little blah blah blah and finally I managed to get her to hang up. Once she got started talking about herself, it was like a freight train gathering speed. There was just no stopping the thing.

  “Who was that?” Momma yelled from the other room.

  “The soon-to-be Mrs. Arch!” I yelled back.

  There was silence for a moment. Then she said, “She calls him ‘Arch’ now? What kind of a stupid nickname is that?”

  I could hardly believe the unprecedented words that were on the tip of my tongue, but here they came.

  “I agree with you,” I said.

  I decided to look in her room to be sure she hadn’t fainted. She had not.

  “So, what’s the latest in Peyton Place?” she asked.

  “I told her we’d keep the boys while they go on their honeymoon to Bermuda,” I said, and I was sure I sounded glum.

  Then I told her about the kennel fees and she said, “You know, normally, I’d tell you that you were too sensitive for your own good.”

  “And that I’m an idiot about men,” I said, just throwing it out there to add insult to my own injury.

  This brought a small harrumph from the QB.

  “I think you and Leslie are right. Arch is making a mistake. But you know what? It’s his mistake to make. We can’t do anything except keep our arms around the little boys and let them know they’re loved by us. Archie will regain his senses after he’s lived with her for a while.”

  “I wish I had your faith,” I said.

  Later on, when I was in the kitchen making dinner, Leslie sauntered in.

  “Whatcha making?” she said.

  “Something to match my mood,” I said.

  “Ragout?”

  “Very funny. No, I’m making a Portuguese seafood stew.”

  “So you’re stewing over what? Archie?”

  “Yeah, it’s like my favorite thing these days. Would you believe Sharon called me this morning? I nearly fainted when I heard her nasty voice on the other end of the phone. God, she is so self-absorbed.”

  “Lemme guess. She wants you to be her maid of honor?”

  “You’re hilarious,” I said, and whispered, “No. You’re not.”

  “Yes, I am,” she whispered back.

  “She wants us to keep the kids while they go off on their romantic honeymoon to Bermuda.”

  “Of course, we’ll take care of them. We can only pray she dies from sunstroke. Or runs off with a pool boy.”

  Leslie always took things to extremes.

  “Isn’t it a sin to pray for something bad to happen to other people?” I said.

  “Here, give me the carrots. I’ll peel them. Why don’t you ever ask for help?” she said, and I handed her a peeler.

  “Sometimes it’s just easier to do it myself.”

  “Well, it is not a sin to pray for the bad guys to get it. Go read the Book of Psalms in the Bible. There’s one where David asks God to pray his enemies home or something like that. People been praying for their enemies to die since forever!”

  “If you say so.”

  “Charlie called me this morning. Again,” she said.

  “To talk about what?” I said.

  “Nothing in particular,” Leslie said. “And that’s what’s so weird. He thinks everything between us is going to be
fine. I told him he’s as crazy as hell.”

  “Hmmm,” I said. “How could he think everything is fine?”

  “Well, because we still love each other.”

  My jaw dropped.

  “How is that even possible?” I said. Boy, I really didn’t understand love at all. Not a bit.

  “I don’t know, but it is.” She was peeling those carrots with a vengeance, long strands falling into the trash. Then she stopped and looked at me funny. “When’s the last time you had a professional haircut?”

  “I trimmed it last year.”

  “You cut your own hair?”

  “What’s the matter with that?”

  “I don’t know a single soul who cuts her own hair. Are you suffering with some kind of depression or something?”

  “No.”

  “You do realize you could make yourself more attractive than you do. And I mean that in the nicest possible way.”

  “Why in the world would I change my looks? I mean, who’s looking at me?”

  “Because, one, you never know who’s looking. And two, a good haircut and a little bit of makeup sends a message.”

  “What does it say? For a good time, call Holly? Can we talk about something else?”

  “No, you big dope. I’m just thinking, you don’t know who’s coming to the wedding. There might be someone there for you. And if you show up looking like hell, that fabulous guy will be lost forever!”

  “I do not look like hell! And I’d be shocked if I liked any of Sharon’s friends.”

  Momma waddled into the room and sat at the kitchen table.

  “I don’t think I’d like any of her friends, either,” Momma said. “And Archie’s friends are probably too smart for you.”

  “Momma!” Leslie said. “You couldn’t possibly have meant for that to sound as mean as it did.”

  “What?” Momma said. “What did I say that was so terrible?”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m used to it. I think what she means is that they all have Ph.D.s and I’d feel inadequate around them. They’d be talking about some obscure stuff I couldn’t possibly know and I’d be embarrassed with my lowly B.A.”

  “Just because someone has a huge amount of knowledge on a particular subject doesn’t mean they’re a genius,” Leslie said. “And for what it’s worth, I think you have as much raw horsepower as anyone I’ve ever met with a Ph.D.”