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Bree laughed, a rusty sound that she barely recognized as her own. “Hardly. I worked with bees when I was growing up, but it’s been a long time. Fortunately, these are healthy, established colonies, and the cold spring seems to have kept them from swarming. If I don’t screw up, they should be okay.”
“That’s great.” She seemed honestly impressed. “Would you mind if I borrowed Toby for a while tomorrow? I need help moving furniture. He’s visited me a few times, and I thought he might like some work.”
He hadn’t been visiting. He’d been spying. “I … hope he didn’t cause any trouble.”
“An angel like Toby?”
Her ironically lifted eyebrow took Bree by surprise. Once again, she heard herself laugh. “He’s all yours.”
The woman who called herself Viper turned in the general direction of the woods and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Toby! I need help over at the house tomorrow afternoon. If you want to make some money, come see me.”
There was no answer, but that didn’t seem to bother her. She returned her attention to the hives. “I’ve always been interested in bees, but I don’t know anything about them. Would it be presumptuous to ask if you’d let me watch you work sometime?”
Her vocabulary and manner were so at odds with her appearance that Bree was taken aback. Maybe that was why she found herself giving a brusque nod. “If you’d like.”
“Great. I’ll see you soon.” With a smile, she headed back the way she’d come.
Bree turned toward the hives, then stopped as she was struck with a sudden thought. “How do you feel about mice?” she called out.
“Mice?” The woman stopped. “Not my favorites. Why?”
Bree hesitated, then gestured toward the last hive in the row. “If you’re interested in beekeeping, there’s something unusual you might be interested in seeing. Have you ever heard of propolis
?”
“No. What is it?”
“This heavy, sticky substance bees collect to seal crevices in the hive. It has antibacterial qualities—some commercial beekeepers even harvest it.” She tried to sound professorial. “The bees also use it as a kind of hygienic seal around any hive invaders to protect the colony from infection. Go take a look.”
The woman walked toward the hive, a lamb to the mouse slaughter. She stopped in front of the noisome lump and gazed down at it. “Gross.”
But she didn’t move away. She kept staring. Bree snatched up the shovel she’d propped by the step. “If you want to pick it up and throw it into the gully …”
The woman glanced over her shoulder.
Bree did her best to continue her bright, informative chatter. “The propolis has actually mummified the mouse. Isn’t that fascinating?”
“You’re conning me.”
In the path of that steady gaze, Bree’s posturing collapsed. “I—can do it myself. I’ll have to. But … I hate mice, and you seem like the kind of person who’s up for anything.”
The woman’s eyes brightened. “I do?”
Bree nodded.
“Excellent.” She took the shovel, scooped up the mouse detritus, and tossed it into the gully.
It had been forever since another person had done something nice for her—even if she’d been manipulated into doing it—and Bree couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so touched.
CURIOSITY ABOUT TOBY AND HIS grandmother had made Lucy stop at the cottage. Or maybe she’d simply been procrastinating because, if Panda’s SUV was still in the drive, she had to pack up and leave. Still, as tense as she was, she couldn’t be any more uptight than Toby’s guardian.
Bree was a beautiful woman, despite being almost brittlely thin. There was an old-fashioned fragility about her sharply cut features and translucent complexion. Lucy could see her in Victorian dress, that long neck rising out of a high lace collar, auburn hair caught up on her head. Something told her the woman was carrying a boatload of trouble on her thin shoulders. But how did Toby fit into the picture?
It was none of her business, and she shouldn’t have given in to the impulse to invite Toby to the house, but as soon as she’d heard that his grandmother was dead, she couldn’t help herself. Gutsy kids were her weakness. Right along with throwing herself at the first man she’d met after she pulled her runaway act.
She rounded the last curve, held her breath, and turned into the drive.
His car was gone. She’d never have to see him again.
