Queen Bee

by Dorothea Benton Frank

  “My bees from the pink hive might have bearded Sharon’s car with her in it when she refused to let Tyler go to his own birthday party.”

  She smiled wider than I had seen her smile in years.

  “I see. Isn’t this a pretty shade of green? Very dramatic,” she said. “And you’re leaving out some details, I think.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Why don’t you get your poor old mother a glass of tea and we can chat for a few minutes.”

  “I’d be delighted to,” I said. “Where’s Leslie?”

  “In her room, on the phone with Charlie. What else is new?”

  I poured two glasses of iced tea for us and just as we sat down, the doorbell rang. I knew it was the police. Hopefully, someone I knew. It was.

  “Well, hey, Ted,” I said with a big old innocent smile.

  “Hey, Holly,” he said with a smile to match mine.

  I’d seen him at Publix. We had gone to high school together. I used to let him copy my biology homework. He was a hottie then and he was still a hottie. His blue eyes were almost translucent. Like me, he never dated anyone back then.

  “Come on in. I was just getting ready to have a glass of iced tea with Momma. Can I pour a glass for you?”

  “That would be awfully nice. Today sure was a hot one.”

  Ted followed me to the kitchen where Momma sat, waiting. She looked at him suspiciously.

  “It sure was,” I said. “Global warming’s here. Almost a hundred degrees in the shade.”

  “Hey, Miss Katherine. How are you doing?” he said politely.

  “Hey, yourself, Ted Meyers. Sit down. It’s too hot to stand.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said and took a seat at the table.

  There was an awkward silence that hung in the air like something sweet and sour.

  “So? What brings you to our door, Ted?” I said, placing a glass in front of him on a paper napkin. “Would you like a slice of the remains of Tyler’s birthday cake?”

  “Sure, thank you. Who says no to cake?” he said and then cleared his throat. “It seems we had an incident with your bees this afternoon.”

  “They were bearding from the heat,” I said. I sliced a piece of cake and put it on a plate, handing it to him with a napkin and, of course, a fork.

  “Sorry?” he said.

  “When the temperature in the hives goes over ninety-three and a half, some of the bees go hang out somewhere else to let the hives cool down. Then they go home and some others leave.”

  “And it’s called bearding?”

  “Yeah, kind of a funny term, isn’t it? Sugar?”

  I pushed the sugar bowl toward him and watched him load four spoons of sugar into his glass. I gave him an iced tea spoon. He’d be stirring that much sugar until next week if he wanted it all to dissolve.

  “Mrs. MacLean told me she was swarmed.”

  I sighed as wearily as I could muster.

  “Mrs. MacLean is as crazy as a low-flying loon,” Momma said under her breath, just loud enough for us to hear her.

  “Momma!” I said in mock horror. “Ted, I’m not surprised. But of course, she’s dead wrong. Lots of people don’t know the difference between swarming and bearding.”

  “Can you enlighten me? I’m just a police officer, you know, keeper of the peace. You’re the beekeeper.”

  I laughed a little, trying to keep it light.

  “Sure. When bees swarm they make a loud roar. My bees were quiet. That’s a sign. Also, swarming occurs in the spring. Not the summer. I just changed the bottom of the hive to a screen to give them more ventilation. They’re happier now.”

  “She claims that the bees swarmed her car, causing her to become hysterical.”

  “That she got hysterical is her own mental problem. For the most part, honey bees are harmless.”

  “She had to take something and lie down.”

  “She lies down a lot,” Momma said. “That’s how she hooked Archie.”

  “Momma!”

  “Sorry,” she said.

  Ted smiled and I blushed.

  “She says you caused the bees to swarm her in retaliation for her putting Tyler on restriction and refusing to allow him to attend his birthday party because he called her a bad name.”

  “Good Lord, Ted! Did you hear what you just said?”

  “I know.” Ted smiled at me. “And I said it with a straight face. Good, right?”

  “You always were the best actor in the whole dang school. I think I’ll never forget you singing “Maria” in West Side Story.”

  “Somebody call Hollywood,” Momma mumbled.

  I kicked her under the table and cut my eye at her.

  “Well, thanks, Holly.” He ate the last of his cake.

  “Anyway, she called me a bad name, and did I get to put her on restriction?”

  “She did?” Momma said. “What did that Jezebel call my daughter?”

  “She said I was a freak, a menace to society, and that she was going to sue me for a million dollars.”

  “She said that? I ought to go over there and slap her face!” Momma said.

  “Oh, Momma, she was just being crazy,” I said. But I did love it that Momma defended me.

  “Where in the world did Mr. MacLean find this new wife of his?”

  “An online Transylvanian dating app,” I said. “Listen, she’s not from here, you know? She doesn’t understand the first thing about nature or children. It’s pitiful.”

  “No, she’s not a Lowcountry girl. That’s for sure. Still, I have to ask, is there a way to keep the bees away from her? Apparently, she’s terrified of them.”

  “That’s her mental problem, not mine, but I’ll mention it to them when I check the hives in the morning,” I said.

  “Tell all the palmetto bugs to get off the island while you’re at it, okay?” Momma said. “And to take the coyotes with them.”

  “You bet,” I said.

  Ted laughed at that and stood to leave. I walked him to the door.

  “Thanks for the cake and the tea,” he said. “Did you know they made me the interim chief?”

  Our chief of police on the island had retired at the end of last year.

  “No! I had not heard that. Congratulations!”

  “Yeah, they got a search going, but my hat’s in the ring, too. You never know.”

  “That’s right, you never know. Wow, wouldn’t that be wonderful?”

  Ted had always been a dignified guy, very smart and not impetuous. I thought then that he would make an excellent chief of police. There was nothing bubba about him.

  “It sure would be.”

  We stood on my top step, looking toward Archie’s house.

  “That woman’s a nightmare, Ted. Between us, that is.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Doesn’t take much to get her all worked up, all right. Your momma’s still a character, isn’t she?”

  “Oh, she’s that and a whole lot more.”

  Why was he so slow to leave?

  As though he read my mind, he said, “Well, thanks again. I’ll be seeing you around the island, I guess.”

  “Anytime,” I said and slipped by him and back into the house.

  “Hey, Holly?”

  I turned back to him.

  “You think you might like to go see a movie sometime?”

  “I might.”

  “Well, now I know where to find you.”

  “Hey, Ted?”

  “Yeah?”

  “How’s the competition for the job of chief?”

  “I don’t know. Probably stiff. I mean, who wouldn’t want to live on Sullivan’s Island?”

  “Sometimes I wonder about that,” I said. “Well, listen, if we can do anything to help the process along, just let us know, okay?”

  We waved to each other and I went back inside. I had a thought then that maybe he had a very good chance of getting the job. Why not? He’d been doing it for months anyway. Pretty long interview, I thought.

&
nbsp; Momma was still in the kitchen and now Leslie was there, too. She was starting supper. That was one of the nice things about her return, having help in the kitchen.

  “So what’s new with Charlie?” I asked.

  “You wouldn’t believe it,” Leslie said. “He’s got it in his mind that since he’s got a private seamstress, aka Momma, that she can make Christian Siriano–esque costumes for him.”

  “Who’s he?” I said.

  “I guess you don’t watch the Oscars, huh? So he wants her to come out to Vegas, see a few shows, and get inspired. He’s going for it, Momma. Because of you!”

  “I guess I’m going to spend my evenings in Las Vegas with a whole lot of Liza Minnellis,” Momma said. “I’m going to lose my mind.”

  “You’ll have a blast!” I said. “Just do it.”

  “Have you taken leave of your senses?” Momma said.

  “Absolutely not,” I said. “Here’s what I’ve been thinking. A while back, I came to the conclusion that what we need in this family is more fun. Months and years are slipping away, and none of us are getting any younger, you especially, Momma. And what are we doing? I was thinking maybe we should take up bingo.”

  “Bingo,” Momma said, as flat as a pancake.

  “Yeah, that was before this opportunity popped up,” I said.

  “Let me understand where you’re going with this,” Momma said. “It’s either bingo or Vegas?”

  “No,” I said. “Listen, didn’t you tell Charlie if he was going to do this, he’d better be the best?”

  “Yeah, Momma,” Leslie said. “You did say that.”

  Momma fidgeted around in her chair, and I could feel a grumble coming on.

  “Yes, uh-huh, you sure did,” Leslie added.

  “So, Momma?” I said. “The same goes for you.”

  “What do you mean?” she said.

  “I mean, you don’t even know what the competition looks like!” I said. “How can he be the best anything if he doesn’t have the best-informed support team?”

  “All right,” Momma said. “You’re right. You win. Leslie? You coming with me?”

  “Of course!” Leslie said. “Charlie’s flying us out and putting us up. He’s even bought you a portable sewing machine and he’s having a form made.”

  “I’m assuming the form will have breasts?” Momma said. “And that he’s doing something about foundation garments that will compensate?”

  “I’m sure he is,” Leslie said.

  “Good grief,” I said.

  “Pack your hearing aids and your swatches!” Leslie said. “Las Vegas, here we come!”

  This new aspect of our family life was still something of a challenge for me. But when I thought about it, we’d all come a long way since the cat jumped out of the bag and into the spotlight. Maybe I was too old-fashioned for my own good. But when I thought about Momma in Las Vegas going to these types of shows, impersonators at the top of their game, I wondered just how eye-opening it would be for her. She was about to become a woman of the world. She sure couldn’t wear her sweats with the kittens on them. Momma was going to have to buy a few things for herself, too. And meanwhile, I’d just be here, on the island, keeping bees and mooning over a married man and his crazy-as-hell wife. Or would I?

  “One of the things that amazes me about honey bees is how they all take care of each other. They’re selfless. They feed the queen, they hunt and forage for each other, they take turns guarding the hive. Amazing.”

  “They’re like you, Miss Holly,” Tyler said.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Bee Have

  It took about a dozen trips to Chico’s and Belk’s for Momma to get some kind of a presentable wardrobe together, which Charlie, bless his heart, paid for. Then Robin Harris at Stella Nova gave her a haircut and highlights that were beyond a transformational experience. I barely recognized my own mother with makeup on.

  “Momma! You look like a total babe!” I said.

  “Oh, go on now with your foolish talk,” she said, and as the good Lord is my witness, she blushed. I would’ve thought her blushing mechanism dried up decades ago.

  “Doesn’t she look amazing?” Leslie said.

  “She is the cat’s mother,” Momma and I said in harmony and laughed a genuine laugh.

  We looked up Christian Siriano online and printed quite a few of his costume sketches for reference. And we looked up and printed pictures of every major female impersonator in the business for inspiration as well.

  “We’re going to need a resource for exotic feathers,” Momma said. “And did anyone find a wig maker?”

  “Charlie’s got a wig person. Look, he sent me some pictures last night. Look.”

  I looked at them, too. These weren’t normal wigs. They were beyond Marie Antoinette. Way beyond.

  “Wow,” Momma said.

  “I know, right?” Leslie said. “Crazy!”

  So Momma and Leslie flew to Las Vegas with light hearts and heavy bags. Reportedly, Charlie couldn’t wait for them to arrive, and to demonstrate his enthusiasm, he picked them up in a stretch limo with a bottle of Veuve Clicquot champagne and Lalique flutes. When I spoke to them, even Momma was giggly with excitement.

  “We’re going to our first show tonight! I can’t wait! Oh, Holly! You have to see this place to believe it! You’re in France, Italy, and Egypt all at the same time! You’re going to have to come for a visit!”

  Momma hadn’t produced that many exclamation points in one statement in all her life as far as I knew.

  “Maybe one day,” I said. “You two have fun, okay?”

  I had zero interest in Las Vegas.

  Later that night, the pictures started coming, and they were almost unbelievable. I’d never seen so much glitz and glam. Literally, everything was shiny. Every building, every column, every fountain, and boy, there were a lot of those. There were mirrors everywhere. Women in stiletto heels—most of them, in fact. High-end retail stores were everywhere, ones I’d only ever heard of in magazines. And then there were the female impersonators. Holy whopping hell! You couldn’t make this stuff up. They were the fanciest, most glamorous, most artfully accessorized impersonators you could even imagine. Boas. Headgear that ranged from demure fascinators to tribal headdresses. Gowns of gold and silver lamé with burnouts, and jewels? Diamonds like door knockers. Ropes of gorgeous pearls. Tiaras fit for true royalty. Their makeup? Airbrushed and flawless. The pageantry of it all was intoxicating. Momma’s eyes must’ve been spinning in her head. Leslie had to be giddy and Charlie so happy to have them there and especially to be on good terms with Momma again, because she was going to put him on the map.

  And, just to be clear, neither Charlie nor anyone in Las Vegas had ever heard of matte finish.

  I was sort of enjoying my peace and quiet, and I had no idea when Momma and Leslie were coming back. I should have known the peace wouldn’t last too long. The next morning I was cleaning up my breakfast dishes and I heard the front door open and slam shut.

  “Miss Holly! Miss Holly! Where are you?”

  It was Tyler and Hunter, of course.

  “In the kitchen!” I called back.

  “I just can’t take it anymore,” Tyler said and burst into tears. “We can’t stay long because she just went to CVS.”

  “I can’t take it, either,” Hunter said and started to cry.

  “Come here, you two.” I put my arms around them and let them cry it all out. What had happened? When I thought they were winding down, I said, “All right, now. Tell me what’s the matter.” I reached for a box of tissues and gave them both a couple. “But first, blow!”

  They blew their noses and their breathing gradually returned to normal. They handed me their tissues and I threw them in the garbage. I poured two glasses of apple juice and put them on the table in front of them.

  “Okay, sit down at the table and talk to me. What’s going on? It’s a gorgeous day and you both should be outside! Why aren’t you over at Matthew’s
swimming? Or down at the playground?”

  “Because she won’t let us. Her parents and her aunt and uncle came on Sunday and she didn’t like how we behaved. We’re on restriction again! We didn’t do anything wrong. I promise! We didn’t!”

  “All Tyler did was ask her old aunt if she had brought him a birthday present. And she didn’t. And so we both got in trouble.”

  I noticed suddenly that Hunter had some pretty good-sized bandages on his shins. These were not ornamental. And his elbows had huge bandages on them, too.

  “What happened to you?”

  “I fell off my bike,” he said. “And it hurts, too. I hurt everywhere.” I thought he was on the verge of tears, but he just sighed with so much sadness, I prepared myself for a terrible explanation, because this was all wrong.

  This was a kid who could ride a bike with no hands. And turn corners. As we all said, he was part monkey. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. I knew intuitively I wasn’t getting the whole story.

  “Want to tell me what really happened?”

  They looked nervously at each other and didn’t answer me.

  “Okay, Tyler. Let’s move on to you. What’s going on?”

  “Sharon just did something that was so terrible.” He stopped and looked at Hunter. “We have to tell Miss Holly, Hunter.”

  “What did she do?” I said.

  Hunter still wasn’t talking, but he nodded consent to Tyler.

  “I’ll tell her. Hunter was riding his bike, see? But when she told him to stop and come inside, he took off as fast as he could.”

  “Because there was no reason why I shouldn’t be riding my bike!” Hunter said. “It’s summer!”

  “She did room inspections and didn’t like Hunter’s. It wasn’t perfect enough for her. So she took his bike away until his room passed inspection.”

  “I’m not even six years old! I can’t change the sheets! It’s too hard! I can’t reach the washing machine buttons and I can’t read what they say anyhow! And the vacuum cleaner is too heavy for me!”

  “Inspections?”

  “Yeah, she says she didn’t marry our dad to be a personal maid to us.”

  “Anyways,” Tyler said, “she jumped in her car to follow him to make him get off the bike. She pulled around in front of him. Hunter didn’t have time to stop and so he flipped over his handlebars and got all cut up on the road. I saw the whole thing happen.”