Page 2 of A Pack of Honey
I say nothing, but Winnie points to the camera mounted in the corner. The woman turns pale.
"I don't think anyone will buy that," Winnie says simply. "However, we can assume the beads accidentally rolled into your purse. You can leave my store—please shop elsewhere from now on."
Winnie's shoulders sag in relief as the woman snatches up her things and storms out the door.
She turns to me with an exasperated expression.
"What?" I ask innocently, placing the beads back in their slots.
It's like the combs of a beehive, and each slot has a label for a different charm. I know where they go from staring at them every time I'm here. I love the fine work and detailed art.
"That was a little heavy-handed, don't you think?" she asks, waving to her employee as we head to the small back office for lunch.
"No," I reply with a grin.
She snorts, then moans happily as she digs into the creamy mushroom pasta I brought. It sends a thrill of happiness through my gut—and then a slight plunge, as I wish I could make food like this for people I care about daily.
Winnie glances at me, and I brace myself. She wears her thoughts on her face, and I know exactly what she's thinking.
"Have you had any more issues at the farm?" she asks, aiming for casual. It lands far from it.
I also know that if she's asking, it's because she's heard.
"There was a little problem at the front entrance," I say, gauging how much she knows. My anxiety ratchets up at the thought.
She levels me with a flat look.
"You're gonna call a broken gate and a trashed front yard alittleproblem?"
I roll my eyes. "I don't know that it was them. It could've been teenagers. Or shitty, entitled tourists." I gesture toward the front of the store, referencing her recent run-in.
She just gives me the stare that saysstop pretending to be dumb.
I sigh. "Yes, there was a problem. But it's been cleaned up. You can't even tell."
"What did Sheriff Robins have to say?" she asks, frowning at her pasta.
I reach across the table and take her hand. She squeezes mine.
"I'll figure it out. They can't keep this up forever. Eventually, they'll get caught."
She nods, but the frown stays.
"How's your gran doing?" she asks.
That one hits harder. She must see it written across my face.
"I'm sorry."
I don't want her to apologize. It's great she cares. I'm not alone. It's just hard.
I try for a more controlled smile. "She's about the same. She likes the home she's living in."
That's all I can muster before silence takes hold.
Lunch ends too quickly. Winnie heads back to the front, and I return to my happy farm—but lonely farmhouse.
Cole
