Queen Bee

by Dorothea Benton Frank

  “I’m having breakfast with Charlie this morning,” Leslie said.

  “Why?” Momma said.

  “Because I have to get some things straight between us,” Leslie said.

  “Good luck with that,” I said. “But let me know how it works out. I’ll be next door.”

  I rinsed out my mug and blew them a little kiss.

  It was a beautiful day and there was no humidity to speak of. Spring had officially returned to Sullivan’s Island. More and more flowers were blooming, and all the bushes had new growth. The azaleas had reached their peak and the magnolias were about to pop open. Confederate jasmine and fig ivy were on the crawl again, climbing and winding around anything in their path. And all those dahlias I planted earlier in the month were coming soon. I was more excited about them than anything else I’d ever planted.

  Last spring, just by chance, I’d gone to the Citadel Mall and saw an exhibition put on by the Charleston Garden Club. That was the first time in my life I’d ever seen a dahlia, and I fell in love with them right away. They were so intricate, they almost looked like origami flowers made of tissue paper. And they bloomed in a riot of colors, too many to remember. I decided right then and there that I was going to grow dahlias, even though they weren’t fond of our zone or of the coast. So, I worked hard to create the perfect environment for them by mulching leaves and some other organic matter into the soil. I knew they hated hot weather, so I bought a bunch of cheap beach umbrellas to give them shade when it grew too hot, which happened every single year of my life. And I planted the dahlias in a location where they would get afternoon shade. If they didn’t bloom, it wouldn’t be because I had not tried my best. But if they all bloomed as planned, this summer’s garden would stop traffic.

  Anyway, my focus for the next seven days was not dahlias but little boys, little boys who needed a truckload of love, and I was ready to deliver. I rang the doorbell and inside of a minute, Tyler opened the door.

  “Good morning, best man! How are . . . what’s wrong, baby?”

  Tyler burst into tears and fell into my arms.

  “Tyler! Tell me what’s happened?”

  “She made us . . . she took all . . . the pictures of our mom and put them away. Now I can’t even see a picture of my mom without asking her first.”

  Then he began to wail. My heart sank. I thought, Oh my God, that’s the meanest thing I’ve ever heard of! But in the next minute, I could sort of see Sharon’s point. Only sort of. She was Archie’s new wife, and no matter who he married, that woman wouldn’t be happy to see pictures of the deceased wife who had been canonized by the entire population who knew her. Still, it was no way to start things off. I thought for another minute and hoped I had a solution.

  “Hold on there, sweet pea, I think I have a way to work this out. Where’s your daddy?” I pulled a tissue from my bag and gave it to him. “Blow.”

  He blew his nose and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his pajamas.

  “Upstairs in the bedroom with her. They locked the door.”

  Well, I knew what that meant, but I quickly changed the subject. But all Tyler knew was that today, and maybe for a long time, he wasn’t welcome in their bedroom. There would be no more morning snuggles or tickle fests or pillow fights.

  “Did you and your brother have breakfast?”

  “We just had some leftover cake.”

  “Okay, where’s Hunter?”

  “Watching cartoons,” he said.

  “Well, why don’t we see if we can’t rustle up some grub for you two cowboys? Silver dollar pancakes?”

  “Yeah!” he said with a big smile.

  “Okay! Now! That’s the face I like to see! Go get your brother and meet me in the kitchen.”

  When I got to the kitchen my heart sank again. The cake they had demolished was the top layer of Archie and Sharon’s wedding cake, traditionally saved for the happy couple’s first anniversary. It had been carefully packed by the caterer. The boys had literally destroyed the box and eaten most of it. I decided to close the box and hide it in the back of the freezer. Sharon was not going to like that at all. If she found out. Which she wouldn’t until a year from now. Better yet, I was going to throw it out as soon as they left.

  I started making batter for pancakes and took out Archie’s largest skillet. The boys came wandering into the room.

  “So, listen up, buckaroos, is there any cake in any other part of the house? Even a crumb?”

  “Maybe,” Hunter said sheepishly. “There might be some on the floor in front of the television.”

  I glanced at the kitchen clock that hung on the wall over the back door. It was after nine. Archie and Sharon would be downstairs soon. I wet a paper towel, squeezed out the water, and wiped the icing from Hunter’s mouth.

  “I want both of you to take the broom and dustpan and clean up every single crumb as quickly as you can. Because if there is one crumb left, you both could be in big trouble.”

  “How come?” they said in disbelief.

  “That cake y’all woofed up was a special reserve for your daddy and Sharon’s first anniversary.”

  They looked at each other as terror set in.

  “Yikes!” they both screamed and tore out of the room to remove the evidence.

  After I tossed the crumbs, I served the boys plates of steaming towers of tiny pancakes drizzled with warmed maple syrup and melted butter with big glasses of milk. They were in heaven.

  Archie came down the stairs with luggage and returned upstairs to get more. There was still no Sharon sighting. When Archie came down the steps alone with another suitcase, I met him in the hall by the front door.

  “Good morning,” I said. I was as cool as I could be.

  “Hi! Oh, I’m glad you’re already here!”

  “Well, I figured the boys needed breakfast.”

  “Right, of course.”

  Heaven forbid that Sharon leave the marital chamber to tend to her brand-new stepchildren to let them know she cared about them even a smidgen.

  “Archie, can I have a word with you?”

  “Of course. Want to follow me? I’ve got to get these in the trunk. Is there coffee?”

  I picked up a tote bag that looked like Sharon’s and wondered if she was taking a bag of bricks on her honeymoon for a special reason.

  “We can have coffee ready in five minutes.”

  He opened the back of his Jeep and the first suitcase went in with a jerk and a grunt appropriate to the size and weight of it.

  “Great. What’s on your mind?”

  “Listen, I know it’s not my business, but apparently Sharon took all the pictures of Carin and put them away.”

  “Understandable, don’t you think?”

  “Um, I think it’s actually a little bit insensitive.” Archie stepped back and frowned. “I mean, I found Tyler in tears. Why don’t you give each of the boys a picture of Carin to keep in their rooms?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it that way,” he said. “Of course, I’ll take care of that right away.”

  “Great! How about some pancakes?” I said. “And I’ll get a pot of coffee going.”

  “I’ll be right there,” he said. “Holly?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  “Sure,” I said.

  I hurried back inside to throw grinds in their coffeemaker, batter in the pan, and two more place settings on the table. Was I really going to cook breakfast for Sharon? I decided to be the bigger person and just do it. I’d look petty if I didn’t. If she didn’t want them, she didn’t have to eat them.

  About ten minutes later, the car was packed and breakfast was on the table for Mr. and Mrs. MacLean. Archie and Sharon came to the table.

  “This looks great,” Archie said.

  “Holly makes the best pancakes I ever had!” Tyler said.

  “Better than IHOP!” Hunter said.

  “Pancakes? You must be kidding,” Sharon said. “None for me, thanks.”

&nb
sp; Tyler and Hunter looked from Sharon’s face to mine and back again.

  “Why not?” Tyler said.

  “Because pancakes make you fat,” she said.

  “No, they don’t,” Hunter said. “I’m not fat. I eat pancakes all the time.”

  “You shouldn’t disagree with me, young man. It’s very rude,” Sharon said.

  The room got quiet.

  Archie said, “Hunter, adults have to limit the amount of carbohydrates they eat because the unburned ones metabolize as fat. I don’t think Sharon meant to say kids shouldn’t eat them. You’ll burn them off before noon. Isn’t that right, Sharon?”

  “Perhaps I should have been more specific, but your boys are going to have to learn some manners,” Sharon said. “If we’re going to get along, that is.”

  I thought I would really love to fly across the room and strangle her.

  “What did I do?” Tyler said. “Why am I included in this?”

  “It’s a generalization,” Sharon said.

  “Oh. By the way, what do you want us to call you?” Tyler said.

  “Why, call me ‘Mother’! What else would you call me?”

  How about any of the fifty terrible names that were running through my head?

  “You’re not our mother,” Hunter said quietly and nicely. “Our mother is in heaven with the angels.”

  “Sharon . . .” Archie said in a kind of a warning to her not to ramp this up to a full-blown war.

  “Well, then,” Sharon said, “call me whatever you’d like.”

  I couldn’t wait for them to leave.

  “Miss Holly? How many drones are there in each hive?” Tyler asked.

  “About fifteen percent of all of them,” I said.

  “I’m going to pray for them,” Hunter said.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bliss Week

  We stood on the porch, the boys and I, waving at Archie and Sharon as they backed out of the driveway.

  “Have a great time and don’t worry about anything,” I said.

  “Thanks for everything!” Archie said to me. “Y’all be good, boys!”

  “We always are!” Tyler said defensively, and who could blame him? Especially after the pile of bull Sharon dropped on him.

  “Bye!” Hunter said, disappointed that he was getting cheated out of a trip to Bermuda.

  Sharon just waved and gave us that fake smile of hers. I could tell she couldn’t wait to get away from us. That was just fine. We couldn’t wait for her to leave.

  They were finally gone. I knew Archie could not have been happy with the way Sharon spoke to Hunter and Tyler. They’d been married for less than twenty-four hours and there was already an issue.

  “Our momma never talked to us like she does,” Hunter said, as though he was reading my mind.

  “I know she didn’t,” I said. “But your momma was a very, very sweet lady and she loved you with all her heart. And she was truly your momma. She carried you both in her tummy for nine months and then brought you into the world, which I am pretty sure wasn’t an easy thing to do.”

  “How did we get out?” Hunter asked with all the wide-eyed innocence of a little boy.

  “Magic,” I said, sincerely. “Babies are magic and miracles!”

  “Huh,” Hunter said, thinking about what I’d said.

  “Sharon’s not sweet one bit,” Tyler said. “Now do you see what we meant about some people just don’t like kids?”

  “Listen, do you want to know what I think? I mean, what I really, really, really think?”

  “Yeah!” they both said.

  “Let’s go clean up the kitchen together and I’ll tell you.”

  Hunter made himself busy returning the milk, butter, syrup, and eggs to the refrigerator while Tyler cleared the table, handing me plates and mugs to rinse and put in the dishwasher.

  “So what do you think, Miss Holly?” Tyler said.

  His top and bottom front teeth were growing in fast and his lisp was all but gone.

  “I think I miss the way you used to talk before your teeth started coming in.”

  “They had a growth spurt. Now, come on. You promised!”

  “I think you two are the greatest little boys I have ever known, and I’ll bet you that when Sharon gets to know you, she’ll think so, too.”

  “No way,” Tyler said.

  “But! I think she’s super nervous, and that’s why she says things that sound a little bit mean. They just pop out of her mouth before she realizes how they’re going to sound to you.”

  “What’s nervous got to do with it? We’re just kids,” Hunter said.

  “Yeah, it’s not like we’re going to bite her or something.”

  “Well, as I said, she doesn’t really know you yet, does she?”

  Tyler said, “Why does Dad act so silly around her?”

  “That’s a harder question to answer,” I said. “I don’t really know a reason why he does, but you’re right, men can get pretty silly around women.”

  “What are we going to do today?” Tyler said.

  I assumed then that my answers had satisfied them.

  “Well, we’ve got to wait for the rental company to take away all the tables and chairs. Then I thought we’d maybe go down to the playground and see what’s happening. Maybe get some ice cream. Then we’ve got to be sure all your homework is done for tomorrow, get some supper, get a bath, and get some z’s.”

  “Where are you sleeping?” Hunter said.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “We never talked about it.”

  “You could sleep in Daddy’s bed,” Hunter said.

  “Oh, no,” I said. “No, no, no. I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” Hunter said.

  “You’ll understand someday, but no, I can’t do that,” I said.

  Tyler gave me a sly look that said he had an inkling of why it might be weird for me to sleep there and said, “Well, I’ve got bunk beds. Hunter, why don’t you sleep in my room and let’s give Miss Holly your room? How’s that?”

  “Perfect! That’s a very good compromise!” I said. “Now, let’s go check your backpacks to make sure you’re ready for school tomorrow.”

  “I might have been supposed to do a math worksheet,” Tyler said.

  “Piece of cake,” I said. “Let’s get on it so it’s done.”

  It didn’t take long for the few chores we had to be completed, and the rental company actually came earlier than expected.

  “Y’all ready to go for a walk?” I asked.

  “Definitely!” Hunter said. “But I want to ride my bike.”

  “But there’s no bike for me!” I said.

  “Miss Holly’s right. Let’s walk!” Tyler said.

  There we were, the three of us, strolling down Middle Street toward the playground. Sometimes the boys seemed like they were so very young, and on other occasions, they possessed a depth of wisdom that belied their years. I imagined losing their mother had a lot to do with that.

  As soon as the playground was in sight, the boys took off running, hell bent for leather, as Momma said from time to time. I didn’t stop them. I intended to let them run and jump and play and get any and all of their anxiety completely out of their system. The great feature that set the Sullivan’s Island playground apart from most of the others across the country was the mound that sat smack in the middle of it. It was actually Fort Capron at one time, a fallout shelter at another, and now kids loved to slide down it on sheets of cardboard. It was the closest thing Sullivan’s Island had to sledding. The playground had been built over time. First there were tennis courts and basketball courts. Later on a gazebo was built, swings and sliding boards were added, and a playhouse, and all sorts of other opportunities for climbing or digging in the sand. There was something there for children of all ages.

  Tyler and Hunter were taking advantage of all of it. I had decided it was best not to bring Sharon up in conversation with them unless they were the ones to do so. In fact, I decided t
o restrict my thoughts about Sharon to conversations with my bees. I sure didn’t want my disappointment in Archie’s marriage to be the talk of the town. Not for one second.

  The boys seemed to know quite a few of the kids on the playground, probably from school. It reminded me that no parent knows every single thing about their child’s life and that eventually, they really will have a whole life for themselves, independent of your orbit. I shouldn’t worry about them so much. And then I wondered for a moment if Carin was watching us from somewhere, heaven maybe. How would she feel about Archie and Sharon? For some inexplicable reason I could almost hear her laughing and laughing. And when I had the thought of how she would like me taking care of her kids, I could almost feel her hand on my shoulder in gratitude. It was funny, how connected you felt to the unseen world on this island. But that was the Lowcountry and what it seemed to do to most anyone who would take the time to listen to the muses hidden in the salt air. It occurred to me then that this was another advantage of living here, that edge it gave you, that it made you a deeper thinker. If you wanted to be one, that is.

  I loved watching Hunter and Tyler having fun. Someone had a basketball and there was an impromptu game between them all, just shooting hoops, which of course eluded Hunter, who wasn’t tall enough to even hit the rim. This was why I wanted to teach. I wanted to be in a world filled with children as they woke up to something new each day and I could help them see their growing sense of reality more clearly. When Tyler and Hunter were good and sweaty and red faced and out of breath, they stumbled over to me on the bench.

  “We could probably stand some ice cream now,” Tyler said.

  “Oh, you could, huh?” I said and smiled.

  “Yeah,” Hunter said, giggling, “if we had to.”

  “Then let’s go see what wondrous treats are in the freezer at the gas station!”

  The walk from the playground to the tiny convenience store attached to the Circle K gas station was only minutes, and soon all three of us were standing on the corner of Station Twenty-two and a Half, devouring some terrible unhealthy combination of sugar and chemicals. They sold great coffee, milk, bread, sodas, and emergency supplies, such as batteries, potato chips, doughnuts, and toilet paper. But the freezer filled with the least healthy of iced snacks was our favorite.