Page 10 of Arranging Ayra
“Bees?” Suddenly alarmed. “Do you have an infestation of bees in your rose garden?”
“No. No. I have an apiary.”
“I’m sorry... a what? Is that some sort of allergy or something?
“Oh, no. It’s simply well... beehives. Dozens of beehives. It is enough to supply us with the most delicious honey you’ve ever tasted... and that... for the entire year.”
Allergic to bee stings, I looked around, suddenly fearful of a bee attack.
“No need to fret about it. The hives are clear on the other side of the property. Just close enough to the flower garden to come collect their precious nectar, but far enough to not be a nuisance.”
I let out a sigh of relief. “I do apologize for fretting somewhat.”
He looked at me funny.
“What? What it is? Did I say something wrong?”
He smiled. “Do I detect the sudden appearance of a British accent... in particular on the word ‘somewhat’. I thought you were an American.”
The heat of the blush that took over my cheeks was overwhelming. I knew it was a horrible, horrible habit, but I just couldn’t rid myself of it. “Sorry,” I said with a deliberate American accent. “I think they call it linguistic convergence... or something like that. I tend to adopt the accent of the person I’m speaking with, and... well... your accent is so lovely and so prominent. I certainly didn’t mean any offense by it.”
Laughing, he put his arm around my shoulder. “I’m not in the least bit offended. I’m rather flattered that you would take on this lousy and thick Manchester accent.”
“Lousy? It’s not lousy at all. It’s positively charming.”
“You Americans. You love every British accent, no matter what corner of the United Kingdom the accent is from.” With his hand still on my shoulder, he turned me toward the stairs. “I think it’s time we continued on with our visit.”
We slowly made our way down then circled back around the lake, then took the stone path back to the gardens.
“Have you been working here long?” I said when the fragrance of roses reached my nostrils.
“I’ve been the caretaker of this place for a few months now,” he said. “I can tell you that it’s quite a handful.”
“Have you had many productions use this location for their movies?”
“You guys are the first.”
“Oh. How nice.”
We crossed through the garden and entered the manor through a different door than Keely and I had exited from.
“I think the feel of the place is the perfect setting for you,” he went on. “Of course, some of the artwork will have to be changed. A lot of it already has, but there is still so much to do.”
Walking down the hall, I looked at the strange array of modern artwork on the walls, once again struck by the anachronism of it all. “How did such an old place come to have such modern art?”
“The previous owner,” he said. “He thought the classics were a little too... stodgy. He wanted to brighten up the place, hence some of the very colorful abstracts that I actually think are quite nice, just not in keeping with the old-world charm of the place.”
“I agree,” I said. “Some of these are spectacular. What are you going to do with the abstracts?”
He shrugged. “Probably auction them off.” We arrived at the kitchen. “While the whole of the kitchen is original, as you can see, modern appliances have been brought in over the years.”
“I’m sure Keely has thought of a way of working around that.”
We moved on to the formal dining room.
“Oh, my. Look at that table. It must seat thirty people,” I said.
“Actually, it seats forty-six.”
