Page 10 of Like Bees to Honey
Astrid nodded, continuing to run the iron over her hair in slow strokes.
“She’d support my slippers and coveralls take,” Mags said. “Rosemary is the most practical of us all, Shelby. I don’t think she owns a dress.”
“She sounds like she lives a very exciting life in California. I can’t wait to meet her.” Bit by bit, they were learning about Shelby’s life with her adoptive family. Older parents. Her adoptive mother had passed on, but her adoptive father was alive and doted on her—his only child. He’d been against her quest for her birth mother but Shelby persevered. Since she’d arrived at their front door, she’d been learning everything she could about her biological family and their bees. “The bee genome postgraduate study? Insect molecular biology?”
“She’s supersmart.” Astrid smoothed a hand over Camellia’s hair. “Even if she doesn’t own a dress.” Another slide of the iron. “What do you think of your hair, Aunt Camellia? If you don’t like it, we can pin it up.”
Camellia stared at her reflection. Between Shelby’s makeup, Astrid’s hairstyling and Tansy’s borrowed dangly honeybee jewelry, the effect was rather dramatic.
“You look like Lucille Ball.” Tansy was all smiles. “A sexy Lucille Ball.”
Camellia’s eyes widened.
“Oh, you do!” Shelby nodded. “He’s going to trip over his own feet when he sees you.”
Mags snorted, handing Bea back to Shelby.
“I think you look beautiful. But do you like it?” Astrid was watching her, closely, in the mirror.
Camellia leaned forward, blinking her mascara-elongated lashes. “Do I look like...me?”
“Of course, you do.” Mags shot her an odd look. “You look just like you. As lovely as ever.”
Only her sister could manage to pay her such a wonderful compliment and sound exasperated at the same time. Camellia turned on the stool, smiling at her sister. “Thank you.”
She stood, tightening the tie of her robe, and sighed. “I don’t know what to wear. You pick.”
She’d been excited all day—but still managed to be productive. She’d made a new batch of lavender-honey soap, milked her goats and taught Shelby how to make mason jar beeswax candles all without a hint of nerves. But once she’d showered and they’d all gathered in her bedroom, her stomach had knotted at the realization of what was about to happen.
“You look a little pale, Aunt Camellia.” Tansy perched on the edge of the bed. “Nervous?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I’m fifty-two years old and going on a first date.” Her smile wavered. “Oh dear. Saying it out loud makes it even worse.”
“Nonsense.” Mags took the pink flowered dress. “You’re not defined by a number, Camellia. You have more energy than most women half your age—that’s a fact. You’re delightful. Charming. Lovely.” She sighed. “No matter how I feel about this, he has exquisite taste in women. Which means he can’t be a complete moron. I suppose.”
“I second that.” Astrid nodded.
“Third.” Shelby raised her hand, smiling.
“Same.” Tansy unzipped the dress. “Now, let’s get you dressed.”
By the time Camellia was ready, she was worrying over every little thing. She fidgeted with the decorative buttons down the front of her dress, wondered if her heels would trip her up, and hoped he didn’t take one look at her and change his mind.
Mags shooed the nieces out and closed the door behind them. “Breathe.” Her green eyes searched Camellia’s. “You don’t have to do this, you know. It’s your choice. All of this.”
Camellia nodded.
“What is it, Camellia?” Mags’s brow furrowed. Mags, who refused to emote for fear of wrinkles,wasemoting. “You’re worrying me.”
“How many men have I dated, Magnolia?” She smoothed her hands over her skirts. “Harry Young in high school. Peter Vaughn in college. Then Nathan Green and Harald. That’s all. In all my years.”
“And only two of them got lucky.” Mags grinned.
“Magnolia!” Camellia was horrified. Doubly so because her sisterwascorrect.
“If you were a virgin we’d have cause for concern.” Mags shook her head, still grinning. “Relax. Have fun. You’re not running off to elope.” She gave Camellia a wide-eyed look. “Don’t even try it.”
Camellia laughed.
