The Beekeeper's Daughter (Harlequin Super Romance)

by Carter, Janice

  “Guess the county’s worried about all the fires.” Will watched Henry out of the corner of his eye for his reaction.

  But he was staring at the new pigeon coop, obviously thinking of other things. Will wondered how much Andrews had told Henry about the arsonist. The evidence they’d collected from the ruined barn—a dented old jerry can and burnt plastic container of cleaning solvent—had been traced to Henry himself. He’d told them the stuff had been in the barn but he hadn’t used them in ages. Will had no reason to doubt the old man, but Andrews wasn’t so sure.

  Henry suddenly asked, “You get that injury in a fire?”

  Will nodded. He didn’t feel like explaining and didn’t think Henry was looking for a long story.

  “You going to be okay fighting fires again?”

  Will smiled. “I hope so, Henry.”

  The sound of an approaching vehicle ended the conversation. When the red fire hall SUV rolled into the yard, Will got to his feet. Scott Andrews climbed out wearing his standard issue uniform. So it was business, rather than social.

  “Morning, Henry, Will.” He paused to survey the new coop. “Been doing some building, I see. Looks great.” His eyes cut back to Will. “You’re a man of many talents, Jennings. Henry, I wonder if I could ask you a few more questions. The fire marshal will be visiting you soon and maybe the sheriff, too.”

  Will frowned. Obviously the sheriff had been investigating the fires and would have interviewed all the other victims. He glanced quickly at Henry, who seemed unperturbed.

  “Have you had the forensic reports yet?” he asked Andrews.

  “Nah. The evidence has to go to Charlotte. It’ll be a few days.” Andrews looked at Henry. “Mind if we sit down, Henry?” He pointed to the bench they’d just vacated.

  Henry shrugged and took his seat again. The rest of the iced tea and cookies sat on the table next to the bench, but Henry didn’t offer anything to Andrews. Will hesitated, wanting to stay but uncertain whether he was welcome.

  Andrews glanced up at him and said, “If you want to go on with your building, that’s okay.”

  He waited for some signal from Henry that he wanted him in on the questioning, but when none came, strolled back to the pigeon coop. The talk yesterday after the morning meeting had inevitably swung back to Henry as a possible suspect. Mainly because the evidence collected from the other fires hadn’t belonged to the victims. Although the official report was out, Andrews had implied the Krause fire might not be the work of the valley arsonist.

  Will resumed hammering the chicken wire in place, but every now and then his gaze shifted to the two men on the bench. At the first sign of Henry appearing upset, he’d counsel the old man to call a lawyer. But after a few minutes, he saw Andrews pat Henry on his shoulder, get up and walk in Will’s direction.

  “I suggested Henry call himself a lawyer.”

  Will set down the hammer onto the frame of the coop. “Yeah?”

  “I know the report’s not ready yet, but I talked to the marshal this morning. He agrees there’s something different about this one. The ignition source was Henry’s own jerry can.”

  “Could be a teenager,” Will countered.

  “We haven’t ruled that out.”

  “But you don’t believe it.”

  The captain shrugged. “I don’t know what to believe.” He lowered his voice. “And in spite of what you may think, I find it hard to believe—damn hard—that Henry would torch his own barn, risking his pigeons like that. No way. But—” he heaved a sigh “—all we’ve got is the gasoline can. If his are the only fingerprints on it…”

  “That means nothing,” Will said angrily. “Of course his prints will be on the can. The perp could’ve been wearing gloves.”

  “And he does have a motive.”

  “What? Insurance?”

  “He still owes money for his wife’s medical bills. According to the bank that covered the loan, he’s been making regular but small payments over the last fifteen years. A few weeks ago they gave him a deadline for the balance. He’s got three months to pay or they’ll collect his collateral. This place.” He ducked his head closer to Will’s. “And between you and me, I doubt the guy’s old age security is going to cover the balance. Unless he’s got a fortune hidden under a mattress in there.”

  “He told me he sold land to the Waters family to pay his bills.”

  “I think the cost of treatment came to more than what he got for the land.”

  “Captain, as you said, there’s no way Henry would endanger his birds. You’ve got to consider other possibilities.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as maybe someone set the man up.”

  Andrews frowned. “What would be the motive? I was only kidding about the coins under the mattress thing. The bank told me all Henry owns is the house and the property. He’s living from month to month on his security. I mean, unless someone around here covets his pigeons…”

  “You think you’ve got enough evidence to have the sheriff lay a charge?”

  “Not yet.”

  “So why call him in?”

  “I just wanted to see his reaction. The sheriff will probably come around in a day or two as part of the investigation, but right now his office is too busy to make the valley arsons a priority.”

  He sounded bitter, which might explain his negative attitude. But it wasn’t a good enough excuse for Will. “So you were trying to intimidate him? An old man?”

  Andrews’s gaze turned cool. “I’ve lived my whole life in this valley. My father went to school with old man Krause. Please don’t assume you’ve got things figured out here after a week or so. I wanted to give Henry a heads-up that things are serious. If he has anything to confess, better he does it to us than to someone from the sheriff’s office.”

  “He’s got nothing to confess, Captain.”

  After a long moment, Andrews looked away. “Let’s hope not.” He headed for his vehicle, waving to Henry on the way. The SUV made a dust-raising three-point turn and sped down the driveway.

  ANNIE KNEW SOMETHING WAS WRONG the instant Will stepped out of his van. His face was tight and his eyes grayer than a November day in New York. It was just past noon and she’d only returned from town minutes ago.

  “Hi,” she said uncertainly. She watched him stand by the van, as if catching his breath. Or calming down. Then he walked toward her, managing to conjure something that resembled a smile.

  “Did you pick up the queens?” he asked.

  She nodded, realizing he wasn’t going to talk to her about his problem right away. “Come and see them.” She led him to the worktable in the barn and pointed to a wooden box the size of a small chocolate bar. He gingerly picked up one of the boxes and brought it close to his face for a better look. There were three small cavities covered with a fine mesh. At each end of the flat box was a tiny cork.

  “How does this thing work?”

  “It’s called a queen cage. There’s a piece of sugar at one end, on the other side of that cork. I’ll pull out that tiny cork just before I put the box upside down in the hive. The worker bees will start to eat the sugar candy and will eventually release the queen and her attendants.”

  “Her attendants?”

  She had to smile at the incredulity in his voice. “That’s what we call those other bees in the box with her. There are about eight or ten of them. They look after her in transport.”

  Will shook his head. “She really is a queen in every sense of the word.”

  “For sure.”

  “Why not just dump the queen into the hive?”

  “Because the bees already there won’t accept her. They’d probably kill her. This way, by the time they’ve eaten the sugar, they’re used to her smell. When she’s free in two or three days, they’ve accepted her.”

  “When will we put them in the hives?”

  She liked the way he used that word, we. “Tomorrow, if the weather’s right. It’s kind of an involved procedure
and I don’t have time today.”

  He put the queen cage down on the table. “So what’s the plan for today? Are we setting excluders in the other hives at the Vanderhoffs’?”

  “No, there’s no rush on them yet. I have to fill some orders. We need to pour off honey from the settling tank into those jars.” She pointed to boxes stacked on shelves above the table. “Then we pack the jars and send them to a couple of specialty food shops in Charleston. They want a hundred each so we’ll be—”

  “Busy.”

  He’d warmed up since his arrival. But still no hint about why he was upset. He’ll tell me in his own time, she figured. “Have you eaten?” she asked.

  “Had lunch with Henry.”

  “Oh? Did you finish the pigeon coop?”

  “All done.”

  “Henry must be thrilled.”

  “Happy as a pig in…you know, the proverbial.”

  Annie laughed. “Okay, well shall we get started?”

  They worked steadily for more than an hour, seldom speaking except to ask for something to be passed. When Annie mentioned she was thirsty, he went to get sodas from the fridge in his van. She paused to watch him, straight-backed and confident. He was the kind of man her father would like and for some reason, she found that reassuring.

  She sealed up the box she’d been working on and made for the barn door. Will was taking a bit longer than she’d expected. When she stepped outside, she saw him talking to a man in a khaki-colored suit. Both men turned her way.

  Will’s face was flushed and his eyes flicked coolly across her as she drew nearer. The stranger, a pleasant-looking thirty-something business type, beamed at her as he extended his right hand.

  “Miss Collins? Tom Farnsworth.”

  She frowned.

  “From Sunrise Foods.”

  “Oh.” She shook his hand and asked, “Did you not get my message?”

  His brow furrowed. “Message? Did you call the office?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “I’ve been on the road and haven’t got around to checking in today. Are we still on for the tour?”

  Annie glanced quickly at Will. “Um, I guess so…since you’re here. But you should know that I…that is, we…haven’t made a decision yet.”

  “About selling the apiary? No rush, Miss Collins. As I explained when I first spoke with you, we’re on a fact-finding mission. Just to check things out, see your operation and make an assessment to determine if it’s the kind of asset we can use.”

  Will interrupted. “Still want that soda, Annie, or do you have other plans?”

  She turned his way. His eyes were darker than ever. “Uh, I guess not. I should show Mr. Farnsworth around.”

  Will shrugged indifferently. “Then I’ll call it a day,” he muttered, climbing behind the steering wheel. Before he started the engine, he stuck his head out the window and said, “See you in the morning.”

  He’d forgotten she’d invited him to dinner. Or had he? Annie wondered, watching his van disappear down the driveway.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  PARTWAY THROUGH HIS MEAL with Henry, Will remembered Annie’s dinner invitation. He almost choked on a piece of chicken and had to fumble for the water.

  “You all right?” Henry asked.

  Will could only nod and gasp. After leaving Annie’s, he’d headed for the campground and a shower. But en route, he’d spotted Henry’s pickup parked in his driveway and dropped in to see if he needed any help transferring pigeons to the new coop. Then Henry had asked him to stay for dinner.

  What to do? Henry ate early, so presumably Annie might still be preparing their meal. Or was she? Maybe she was relieved he’d forgotten. He’d left angry. When the agent had said he was there to view the property, Will had known right away what that meant.

  How could she consider selling the family business? On the way back to the campground, it occurred to him that perhaps Jack Collins didn’t know about the visit either. Will doubted he was the type to sell out to a big conglomerate. Another apiary, perhaps, but not a food giant like Sunrise.

  All through his meal with Henry, the more he thought about it, the more it rankled. But if the old man suspected something was amiss, he didn’t let on. He was preoccupied himself, probably from Andrews’s visit that morning. The only reference he made to the fire investigation was his comment, while they watched the pigeons swooping about their new cage, “I’d never hurt those birds.” And Will believed him.

  After helping wash up, Will asked if there was any heavy work around the place Henry would like him to do. Henry hesitated and looked at the ruined shell of the barn. Will knew what he was thinking. The debris needed to be removed, but it would be expensive to hire the job out. He thought about what Andrews had said about Henry’s financial state.

  “If you’re not in a rush about cleaning that up,” Will said, “I could probably haul away a few pieces every day. Is there a dump around here?”

  “They won’t take that, but I can use some of the boards for my woodstove. The rest could be taken out to the back of my field over there.” He looked back at Will. “Sure you wouldn’t mind?”

  “Hey, nights are long with no television in the van. I’ll come by tomorrow after I leave the apiary.”

  “Any word when Jack will be home?”

  “Not that I’m aware of,” Will said. He realized he didn’t know a lot about what was happening in the Collins household. Witness the Sunrise Foods visit today. What irked him most, though, was his reaction to being left out. As if he had some entitlement to the family.

  It was dusk when he got back to the campground and the place was deserted. Waters kept saying people were going to start showing up any day, but Will had yet to see anyone but the workmen applying the finishing touches to the laundry facility. He’d thought Waters would be pleased when he made a down payment for the duration of the summer on his campsite—considering he was the only paying customer. Instead, the man had almost questioned his sanity about staying on in the valley.

  At the moment, Will was inclined to agree. If he’d been able to maintain an appropriate working relationship with Annie, he wouldn’t be having such doubts about staying. Problem was, the longer he hung around the more difficult it would be to leave. That was where the sanity issue came in. Even if Annie was as attracted to him as much as he was to her—and he had little doubt about that—where would that take them?

  The end to his brief marriage had left him feeling he was no good at long-term relationships. You never talk to me. You never share things. You never open up. His ex-wife’s breakup mantra. At the time, he’d thought he had been doing all those things. But in retrospect, he knew some part of himself was always held in check, as if he’d sensed all along that she wasn’t really interested. When he learned about her affair with a friend of his—make that former friend—he’d been almost relieved that he no longer had to pretend the marriage was a happy one.

  After parking and setting up the van for the night, he lit the kerosene lamp, made a cup of coffee and sat outside on his folding aluminum lawn chair. It was a clear, warm night and the sky was filled with stars. He leaned back, staring up at the canopy directly overhead. It was a perfect night for stargazing. A perfect night for romance. He wondered what Annie was doing.

  Annie. He liked saying her name in his head. And he’d liked her, too, right from the start. Of course there’d been that instant physical attraction, but he also simply liked being around her. He liked the efficient, quiet way they worked together. She wasn’t the type who needed to have empty space filled with talk. Silence didn’t make her feel uncomfortable.

  She had a strong sense of place, too. He admired that most of all, not ever having felt a particular connection to any one spot until the day he drove up to the apiary. Leaving Garden Valley and losing that sense of belonging frightened him. Losing her.

  Will poured the last of his coffee onto the grass. He was restless and needed to be active. Anything but to sit and
ponder a future without Garden Valley and Annie Collins. Maybe he’d drive into Essex to check out the flicks at the only movie theater in town. He was closing the van’s side door when headlights traveling up the long gravel road into the campground caught his eye.

  He paused, wondering if it was Waters coming to see him about something. The lights suddenly veered his way, holding him in their glare like a moth at a screen. He held a hand up, shielding his eyes, and the headlights extinguished. As the vehicle came closer, a warm calm eased through him. Annie’s pickup.

  The truck stopped a few yards from his van. He walked toward it, heart racing. If she’d arrived even ten minutes later, he might have been gone. The door swung open and she leaned over to pick up something from the seat beside her. Will reached her just as she climbed out, holding a plastic container.

  She was wearing loose cotton trousers and a filmy, Indian-style top with bits of mirror that sparkled in the light spilling out from the interior of the truck. Her hair shimmered, and bounced against the top of her shoulders when she turned her head to him.

  “You forgot about dinner,” she said, holding out the plastic container, “so I brought dessert. Brownies. Made them myself.”

  Her beauty lit up the night, leaving him speechless. He closed the truck door behind her, took the brownies and set them on the roof. Then he gently drew her to him, tilted her chin slowly upward and kissed her. It was a tender and forgiving kiss.

  “That thing about the Sunrise Food man—”

  “Just a big misunderstanding,” she murmured, nibbling at his lower lip.

  “Would you really think about selling?” he asked.

  “Can we talk about this another time? It’s distracting me from what’s really important here.” Then she pulled his head down, parting his lips with the tip of her tongue.

  “I love brownies,” he whispered, tasting her lips, “but I think they can wait.”