The girls disappeared behind the office door, and he moved further into the barn. Jude emerged from the stack of supers with five wooden boxes balanced on his dolly. “You couldn’t stand it, could you?”
Huck chuckled at the old man’s grin. “It feels good to be back.” He shifted on his crutches. “Even if it’s just for the day.”
“Jude!” Emma ran out of the office. “What are those?”
Jude tapped the boxes with his palm. “These are supers—where the bees live. They build their hives in these boxes, and when the honey is ready, we remove the bees, bring the supers back here, and rob the honey.”
Emma’s eyebrows wrinkled. “The bees aren’t in there?”
“Not right now.”
Huck heard Arianne’s sigh of relief. Even the bravest folks got jumpy around a thousand bees. He moved between work tables that held white buckets. “We have to remove them to get to the honey.”
Arianne followed beside him while Jude passed with the cargo. She wiped her damp forehead with the back of her hand. “Why is it so hot in here?”
“We keep the place between ninety and a hundred degrees. Warm honey flows faster than cold honey does, and we run a dehumidifier to reduce moisture and prevent fermentation.”
“How do bees keep it from fermenting in the wild?”
Huck stopped and lifted a broken chunk of wax hexagons from a table. “The honeycomb. It seals and preserves the honey.”
Arianne smiled. “Very smart.”
Smart didn’t cover it. “Honeybees create something unique in this world. Even the Ancient Egyptians appreciated their work by embalming their dead in honey to preserve the bodies for the afterlife.” Huck’s left crutch caught the table leg, and he tripped then caught himself. If there was an afterlife, he didn’t want to take this body with him.
Emma tugged his T-shirt. “If you take all the bees’ honey, then they won’t have anything to eat, Mr. Huck.”
“I don’t take it all, and I always keep plenty on hand in case they get hungry.”
They reached the uncapping machine. Jude started the implement, pulled a honey-glazed frame of honeycomb from a super, and placed it on the moving belt. “This strips the beeswax, and gives us access to the honey.”
Arianne looked around at all the stacked supers and equipment. “You normally do all this by yourself?”
“Hardly. Harvesting is a big job. Twice a year, I call some guys to help me collect the supers and extract and bottle the honey. The rest I take care of myself.”
He led Arianne to a machine where they worked together uncapping the frames while Jude and Emma manned the honey extractor. Huck divided his weight between the crutches, occasionally resting on a stool. Jude lifted Emma onto his shoulder, so she could watch the uncapped frames spin around the machine as it separated the honey from the combs. From there, a sump pump forced the amber liquid from the extractor through a filter and into large storage tanks.
As the afternoon wore on, hunger gnawed at Huck’s stomach. He scooted next to Arianne to tell her he was ready to break for lunch. Bottom lip pinched between her teeth, she concentrated on removing an uncapped frame from the turning belt. Loose strands of hair played around her face. Her cut-off shorts gave her an entirely different look than her vintage dresses, but produced the same result. Irresistible.
He brought his lips close to her ear. “You’ve worked hard. Ready for a break?”
His breath stirred her hair. Goose bumps trailed from her honey coated fingers up her arms. Her eyelids slipped closed for a moment and she nodded. Huck backed away, grinning. She still had a thing for him, even if she wouldn’t admit it.
They shut down the machines, returning the barn to the quiet whir of the dehumidifier. Suds collected in the utility sink as they each took their turn washing the sticky mixture of wax and honey from their hands. The girls retreated to the office to collect their lunch, and Huck shuffled behind them.
“Well…” Jude patted his gut. “If you’ve got everything under control, I think I’ll head home for a few hours. Eat some lunch. Take a little siesta.”
“A siesta?”
“Hey, I’m used to retirement. This old man needs to rest his arthritic knees.”
The crutches clicked along the smooth concrete floor. Huck’s arm muscles ached and his good leg burned. A nap might be the right prescription. “Take your time, Jude. No rush.”
“I know you’ve got some guys coming in tomorrow, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to bring a buddy over to help too. I need to finish this up by the weekend. The missus has been begging me to take her shopping in Freeport. We’ll be gone two days, but don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”
Huck raised a brow. “You’re gonna drive three hours to take her shopping?”
Jude shrugged and gripped Huck’s shoulder. “And stay for two days.” He shook his head. “Sometimes you’ve got to do things you don’t like to keep them happy. That’s the secret to a strong relationship—compromise.” He held Huck’s gaze as if needing to emphasize his point.
Wasted breath. Huck didn’t need relationship advice any more than he needed a relationship.
Emma joined them, rubbing her heavy, red-rimmed eyes. Arianne closed the office door behind her.
“I’ll be back later.” Jude waved and moved toward the exit.
Arianne’s cheeks, pink from the heat, lifted in a heart-stopping smile. “Tell Sherry I said hello. And thank her for the blueberry pie recipe.”
“I’ll do that.”
A few moments later, Jude’s old Mazda pickup rattled past the barn and the sound faded in the distance.
Huck stepped through the door and squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light. A refreshing breeze cooled his baked skin. Arianne grabbed a quilt from the bed of the Gator, and he led them to a large shade tree by the creek not far from the shop.
She spread the blanket, and he settled onto it, resting his back against the trunk. Every bone and muscle in his body sighed. Half a day’s work and his joints creaked like the floorboards of a hundred-year-old house. He fought the urge to throw his crutches in the creek.
Emma passed him a turkey sandwich and a small bag of chips. Arianne placed chocolate chip cookies between them and handed him a cold root beer. He was getting used to the root, even if it wasn’t his preferred beer. Apparently, the girls were as hungry as he, because they were both quiet as they ate their food. The soft twitter of birds in the slight breeze was the only conversation they needed.
Emma chewed her last bite of sandwich. “Mommy, can I go put my feet in the water?”
“It’s going to be cold. Don’t you want any cookies?”
“Not right now.” Emma took off her beat-up tennis shoes and socks, walked to the creek, and slipped her feet into the water, yelping from shock.
Arianne sat taller to get a better view of the water. With a full belly, Huck leaned his head against the trunk and closed his eyes. His leg throbbed from standing so long. He dug three extra-strength Tylenols from his pocket and chased them down with soda.
“Thanks for bringing us with you. I never realized how much work goes into beekeeping. You’ve got an amazing set-up here.”
His chest swelled at the compliment. He’d never taken a woman into the honey house before. A few had asked, but he’d refused. Too personal. The bees were his family, and he had rules about women and family.
Huck studied Arianne’s profile while she lifeguarded from the blanket. He hadn’t thought twice about bringing them here today. Her working beside him was as natural as the honey they’d bottled. His imagination teased him into seeing a future where they worked here together permanently.
“What made you get into beekeeping?” Arianne pulled a cookie from the plastic box and took a bite.
“Do you remember the genealogy report we had to do for Mr. Warren’s class our senior year?”
“Yes.”
“I actually did it.”
Arianne chuckled. “By y
ourself?”
He grinned. “All by myself. I found out my great-grandfather was a beekeeper in South Carolina. Before that, beekeeping had been in the family since the Civil War.”
He’d hoped the project would lead to clues about his dad, but it hadn’t. He’d been embarrassed to tell Mr. Warren he didn’t know who his father was and therefore could only complete half of the project. No judgment came from the man, only understanding. Huck had received an A.
Arianne brushed the crumbs from her hands and stretched her legs out in front of her, crossing her feet at the ankles. “Beekeeping skipped a couple generations, huh? What did your grandfather do?”
Huck downed the last of his pop. “He was a Kirby vacuum salesman.”
Her laughter brought him along for the ride.
“What a rebel.” She put her arms behind her, weight on her palms. “How long have you been at this?”
“Eight years. After college I traveled, working odd jobs here and there. When I decided to get serious, I joined the Maine Beekeeper’s Association. That’s where I met Jude and a few other guys who showed me the ropes. I got involved with some local colleges three years ago, and I teach classes on beekeeping and small business now and then.”
Arianne lifted a hand to wave at her daughter. “What do you do in the winter?”
“I stay busy repairing equipment, filling honey orders, applying mite treatments to the bees and such. I also make flavored honey sticks, beeswax candles, lip balms…”
“Wow. You turned out to be quite the entrepreneur.”
Huck flicked the tab on his empty can, voices from the past whispering in his ears. “Yep. Who’d have thought I would do something with my life.”
Her lips fell into a serious line. She gazed at him with drowsy eyes, her brows knitting together. “I didn’t mean that, Huck. I always knew you were capable of doing anything you wanted to.”
Was that why she’d graciously offered her time all those years ago? He probably wouldn’t have any of this had she refused to tutor him.
The gratitude he started to express was cut short by Emma trudging toward them with dripping, bare feet. “Mommy, I’m tired.”
Arianne patted the empty spot beside her. The girl curled up in the fetal position and laid her head in her mother’s lap. Water droplets clung to Emma’s ankles and small blades of grass stuck to the soles of her feet. Her eyelids closed and after a few moments of silence, her body fell limp, her breaths slowed.
Was Arianne so angelic when she slept? He’d bet his last drop of honey she was a vision to wake up next to. He allowed his mind to wander in that direction, but a hollowness carved out his middle. He braced his weight against the tree and stood. Not possible. He was no good for her.
“If you need to go back to the house, go ahead. Jude can drive me back later.”
Her lips pouted. “We’re fine. Where are you going?”
Her confusion begged him to stay. “Back to work.”
The misery in his leg had eased by the time he got back to the processing room. He started the machines, the rhythm hypnotizing him closer to that siesta. After a while, Arianne joined him. The woman worked faster than most professionals.
Guilt settled in. She had her own business to run, a life she should be living, and here she was helping him. Again.
He raised his voice to be heard over the noise. “Now that I can creep around, you won’t have to babysit anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean take a break. You’ve been at my side for three months now. Have some fun. Go on a date.”
Why’d he say that? She should, but…
The corners of her eyes twitched, as if his words stung. “After my last experience, I’ll be staying home from now on.”
He frowned. “What happened?”
She stared into the vat of honey. “He turned out to be married.”
Huck stood taller and clenched his fists. If he was in better shape, he’d pay the idiot a visit.
“I sure know how to pick ‘em, huh?”
Honey strained through the filter.
“Where’s the kid?” He didn’t want to have this conversation with her listening ears.
“Sleeping on a blanket in your office.” She nodded toward the corner door. “It was coolest in there.”
“Where do you find these guys?”
“I don’t. They find me.” She waved it away with her hand. “So, I saw a picture of you as a child in your office. Are those your parents?”
Great way to change from one sore subject to another. “It’s my mom and step-dad.”
“Where is he now?”
“Don’t know. Mom booted him out after he refused to be her puppet.”
“That must’ve been hard for you.”
Huck shrugged. “I got a new one three months later.”
When Rick left, it ripped any hope of a real family right out of him. The man actually had tears in his eyes when he told Huck goodbye, the first time a man had ever hugged him. Their fishing trip would remain one of Huck’s only pleasant childhood memories.
“Did he work out?”
“Nope. But the next one”—he snickered and shook his head—”he gave Mom a run for her money.”
Arianne’s shock was evident on her face. “How many were there?”
“Six.”
“She had six husbands?” Her voice rose with each word.
He removed the uncapped frame and passed it to her. “She was working on her seventh when she died. They were on their way to Vegas to get hitched. Never made it.”
The rattle of bones grew louder the further he opened his closet. Why was he telling her this? He’d never talked about his mom with anyone. He busied himself by adding another frame to the conveyor belt.
Arianne’s stunned gaze bore right through him. She needed to know what he’d come from, that her dad had been right. It would give her a head start to sprint away, put an ocean of distance between them. Every day that passed left him weaker, and he was losing the will to do it himself.
When a colony becomes overcrowded, the queen lays eggs for another queen, then leaves the hive in search of a new place to live. This process is called swarming.
19
Voices filled The Crabby Tavern along with the flow of the tap. Laughter rumbled from the bar. Huck’s accountant, Ray Meyers, stepped through the door. Huck waved him to the table. Ray’s gray mustache lifted as he pumped Huck’s hand. The lights reflected off his bald patch.
Ray tugged his khaki’s further up his waist, where his crisp, green polo shirt was neatly tucked. “Huck, let me introduce you to Lamar Johnson.”
A man with serious, dark eyes and curly hair sidestepped Ray to shake Huck’s hand. His plaid oxford shirt and dress pants matched his all-business demeanor. A thick, black strap curled around Lamar’s shoulder, and Huck followed it with his gaze to see where it ended.
Was that a man purse? He forced his thoughts off his face. This would never work. He couldn’t open a bait and tackle shop with a guy who toted a man purse. It was sacrilegious.
After they exchanged greetings, Huck gestured to the open seats across the table.
A waitress took their orders and returned with their drinks a minute later. Huck sipped the foam from his golden stout, the rich texture gliding down his throat. Mmm…he’d missed that taste.
Lamar sipped his wine—figured—then set down the drink. “Ray showed me the location of your building, and I think it’s perfect for what I’ve got in mind.” He dug papers from his handbag and passed them to Huck. “I went in and looked around to get a feel for the place. By the time I left, the woman had almost convinced me to buy a wedding dress.”
The purse probably had nothing to do with it.
He could see Arianne now, flashing Lamar her dazzling smile, fluttering her long eyelashes, and pouring on her feminine charm. “The bridal shop was my uncle’s doing. Now that it’s relocating, I’m ready to open something more practical.”
/>
Lamar folded his hands. “I understand. However, I want to make it clear that what I have in mind is more than just a bait and tackle shop. I’m talking a complete sporting goods store.”
The blueprint layout was perfect, though it would have to be tweaked in order to accommodate the building’s dimensions. Kayaks, backpacks, hiking boots, sleeping bags, tents, rods and reels, guns—he could picture it all. Purse or not, this guy knew what men liked. Huck nodded his approval.
“The building will need some repairs. I noticed cracked mortar between some bricks, and it needs new windows. The inside—”
“A complete remodel isn’t a problem.”
The waitress brought their food, and Huck ordered another beer to complement his “Marty’s Monster Burger,” named in honor of his uncle. Ray joined the discussion now and then, but Huck and Lamar did most of the talking. By meal’s end, business had transitioned into casual conversation.
Ray flicked his wrist and glanced down at his Rolex. “I’ve got another meeting in half an hour.” His chair screeched across the wood floor. “Take care, Huck.”
“Will do.” He’d better go too. Arianne was supposed to pick him up at two, and he didn’t want her to have to wait on him. He stood, and the room went fuzzy. Pathetic. A few months without drinking, and he’d turned into a sissy. Two beers had never affected him before. He shook the men’s hands.
“Will Sunday morning work for you?” Lamar waited for Huck’s response.
The boutique was closed on Sundays. “See you then.”
Huck tossed his money on the table and pulled his crutches away from the wall. He positioned them beneath his arms, glanced at Uncle Marty’s picture on the Wall of Fame one more time, silently said goodbye to the man, and then moved out the door.
Taking Lamar through Arianne’s shop—his building—replacing the sight with sporting goods… It felt wrong.
Ludicrous. He and Arianne had a deal, and she was excited about relocating. She’d even checked out a few available spaces lately.
The thought stung his flesh like a swarm of angry bees. It wasn’t losing the bridal boutique that bothered him. He couldn’t care less about that. But losing it meant losing Arianne, and that was not good.
How to Charm a Beekeeper's Heart Page 14