“Holly, would you like a glass of wine? Sharon brought a nice red. I just opened the bottle.”

I owed Leslie twenty dollars.

“No, thanks. I’ll just have some ice water,” I said, adding, “And Sharon, I brought you a jar of my honey-covered pecans. It’s good on everything.”

She took the jar, which also irked me, and studied the label.

“How sweet!” she said, so disingenuously it made me almost sick. “Did you make this yourself? It’s so quaint!”

“Holly is a beekeeper, and this honey is from her bees,” Archie said.

“Oh, my God in heaven!” Sharon said. “You actually have bees next door?”

“Yeah, quite a few, actually,” I said.

“Why?” she said. “I mean, I know they’re supposed to help things grow and all that, but aren’t they a lot of work? And don’t you worry about them attacking you?”

“These are honey bees. They don’t sting unless they are provoked. They’re vegetarian. And they’re pretty self-sustaining.”

“Aren’t there any laws on this island to protect citizens from bees?”

Archie looked at me semi-apologetically. “Well, I’ve lived here for years and so have the bees, and none of us have been stung.”

I narrowed my eyes at her and said, “I think anybody who knows anything about honey bees would say the benefits eclipse the risks by a margin about as wide as the Grand Canyon.”

“Still,” she said. “Who keeps bees?”

I took a deep breath and thought, This is worse than I thought.

“Well, Charles Darwin, Augustus, Charlemagne, George Washington, Virgil, Tolstoy, Sylvia Plath, and Martha Stewart,” I said and took a sip of water. “To name a few.”

“By the way, Holly, your beef stew was a hit! We inhaled it,” Archie said. “Thanks again.”

“Well, thanks! I’m so glad!”

“Wait! You cook their supper? What are you? A caterer?” Sharon said, and I could see she was growing suspicious of me.

“Only to a very small and select few,” I said.

There was screaming from the other room. The Lakers had scored and the boys were jumping on the sofa.

“Settle down in there!” Archie shouted.

“I like to cook,” Sharon said to Archie. “I’ll make dinner for you this week if you’d like.”

“Would you?” he said. “What night?”

“Which night works best for you?” she said.

Archie looked at her in that way, the way that told me there was hot mischief afoot. Her hooks were in deep. They were already sleeping together. I knew it in my bones. And there I stood like the proverbial third wheel. Neither one of them seemed to be aware they had an audience.

“Well, when you get that worked out, let me know and I’ll watch the boys for you,” I said.

“Oh!” Archie said, regaining consciousness. “Thanks!”