“Absolutely not. My friend Darlene, her husband is a lawyer and he’s handling it so far.”

“Okay.”

“Really, I’m fine. If I wasn’t, I’d tell you.”

“Have you seen the boys?”

“No, only in passing but not to talk to. I’m keeping myself busy. Don’t worry. There’s not a weed in our entire yard.”

I was certain that was true. Holly took all that energy of hers and spent it rage-gardening and on her bees. It bordered on obsessive behavior. And sometimes it surprised Momma and me to admit it, but the honey from her hives was the best honey we’d ever tasted. It just had a sweeter and smoother flavor. Holly said it was because of her herb garden, that her bees loved the pollen and nectar from rosemary and thyme when it was in flower. Holly was insistent that her bees’ favorite herbs and flowers had everything to do with the honey’s flavor. Momma and I just let it go and ignored all the bee facts she tossed around, because, you know, Holly was a little odd and neither one of us really wanted to fight over every single thing because she didn’t like to fight like we did. Momma and I could disagree about something and then go on about our business, agreeing to disagree on whatever the argument was about. Holly would carry the disagreement on her heart like irreparable scar tissue, a wound that would cut her tender spirit into ribbons. And that’s why I was worried about her. I had my issues with my marriage, to be sure, and I’m sad to say they seemed to be growing. I was happy for Charlie to be Char and I was amazed by her talent, but as I had long feared, the more she became Char the less appealing she was to me as an intimate partner. What was I going to do? Leave Momma with Suzanne and go home? To what?

Momma got up from her nap and found me on the patio, drinking iced tea and just daydreaming.

“Oh, hey! How was your nap?”

“Truth? I don’t feel so well. I think I’d better go home.”

“Momma! Sit! What’s happened?”

“I just feel bloated and I don’t know what that means. And I’m worried about Holly.”

“She’s fine, Momma. I talked to her.”

“She’s my daughter and I know her better than she knows herself. I’ve completed three gorgeous gowns for Char. Char is fine. Holly is not fine. And neither am I.”

“Drones have no stingers. So they can’t defend the hive,” I said.

“That’s awful,” Tyler said.

Chapter Thirty

Bee at Peace

I couldn’t believe how annoyed Char was with me when I told her I was taking Momma back to Charleston.