Page 5 of Honeycombs & Homecomings

Jo looked at the man. “Mr. Carroll, is that right?”

He smiled, his crooked grin returning. “Only my mother calls me that. Brandon will do.” Only now did she hear his slight southern accent. Most people in Harvest Ranch had accents thicker than “Get a Husband Brunswick Stew.” Their mother’s was thicker than them all. Their father had moved to Virginia from Arizona in his early twenties. His accent had had more of an effect on the twins than the southern one, leaving them with almost no accent at all, except on certain words, or when they got emotional. Her sister’s had been pretty thick lately.

“Brandon,” she smiled. “My name’s Jo, and my sister,” she signaled the direction Allie had gone, “is Alice.” She stepped to the table by the door, and grabbed the four keys to the house, along with the two keys to the guest house out back, and the two to the barn and stables. The metal had cooled from sitting by the opened door, and sent a chill up her arm.

A couple movers went past with a table from one of the upstairs rooms. Brandon stopped them and peered under the blanket covering it, then threw the cover back. “This is beautiful.” He ran a hand over a leg.

“Thank you,” Jo said. “My father made it.”

He glanced at her, then pulled the cover back.

The movers marched on.

She handed the keys to him. “The keys with the orange heads go to the house, the purple to the guest house, the green to the barn and stables.” She’d color-coded them for him the night before. The property had so many keys.

“Thank you.”

“And you’re sure you’re okay taking the horses?” They’d talked on the phone briefly two weeks ago and he’d wanted them then, but she had to be sure.

“To tell you the truth ma’am,” he said and her heart sank, “y’all are doing me a favor by selling them to me. I’d planned on getting my own as soon as I moved in, but now I don’t have to worry about that.”

She breathed out a slow breath of relief, the weight of two Quarter horses, one Appaloosa, and one Arabian lifting from her shoulders.

With his hat that he still held in his hands, he pointed out the front door. “This company purchased all your furniture?”

She nodded, then shrugged. “Some of it, yes. Most of it goes up for auction next week. Monday.” That was less than a week away. Six days and their belongings would be gone forever.

“Hmm.”

She took a deep breath and swallowed her nerves. This man had such a kind, unassuming way about him, she had to ask. “My sister and I own a honey company in town,Sticky and Sweet, and we have several hives we keep on the property. The raspberries down by the river, and on the west end of the property make for the best honey. If it wouldn’t be too much of an imposition, would it be all right if we put up our hives here in the spring?”

He tilted his head, along with his grin. “Only if I get a jar in return.”

A jar? He could get far more than that. In fact, the properties where they rented land either got their due in cold hard cash, or many, many jars of honey. “That’s so kind, but we could pay.”

At least she hoped they could. If they could get their debt under control and make a killing at the Harvest Ranch festival this year—so far, they’d been accomplishing the latter.

“I think a jar would be enough compensation,” he said, and placed his hat back on his head. He bowed a little. “I best be on my way. I fear I’ve overstayed my welcome.” With that, he turned on his heel and marched outhisfront door.

Jo watched him go, wondering where he’d parked his car. He disappeared behind a moving truck and a moment later, an engine revved, and a motorcycle tore out of the driveway.

She scrunched her brow. She’d hadn’t expected that. Then she went to find Alice.

Chapter 2

Just as Jo expected, Alice sat in one of the horse stalls on a pile of sweet hay with Honey’s golden-head resting in her lap. Their horse, Clover, leaned over one stall on the right, and their horse, Scout, stared over the other. Flower and Titan were across from them, chomping down on some fresh hay.

Moving slowly, as if approaching a wild animal, Jo sat by Allie, hay poking her as she settled in. She was careful to hide her right hand, the hand she normally kept their grandmother’s ring on. Allie was like a wild animal: hard to predict and untamable. Jo envied those qualities, but she’d also learned to be careful around them. She wasn’t sure how this would go, what Allie would do. It was all sixes. She could freak out, start bawling, or any number of other reactions. A tense moment later and Allie leaned her head against Jo’s shoulder.

“How will we ever survive?” she asked, and this time she wasn’t being mellow-dramatic like she was prone to. Now there was only sincerity in her voice. And Jo felt Allie’s question to the depths of her own soul. This had been easily the hardest week of their lives. Jo had thought the hardest week had been the week her dad died, but as crushing as that was, they’d still been blissfully ignorant. Now, they’d be lucky if they didn’t lose everything they had down to their honey shop, which was separate from the debt tied in to the house.

Jo sucked in a deep breath and patted Allie’s leg. “It’s all going to be fine. God willing.”

There was a moment of silence before she spoke again. “You know mom can’t work the fair tonight, right?” Allie sniffed. “She’s been sobbing all afternoon.”

And morning, and the night before, and pretty much nonstop for days.

Jo sighed. It was supposed to be her night off. Her first night off in a week—they’d had to let go two of their employees in the middle of the festival, which meant extra hours for everyone. They were barely managing the booth and keeping their store open during the day. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

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