Page 6 of Like Bees to Honey
But, as she picked some golden potatoes, Camellia was still pondering what had actually happened. The truth was cut-and-dry. Camellia was being courted by a version of Harald Knudson that seemed vulnerable and sincere and very different from the man who had broken her heart and her trust all those years ago. Changed or not, would she be able to forget their past to have a future? Did she want to try?
After all, Harald Knudson was the only man who’d expressed any interest in her. For all the odd tugs and breathlessness she’d experienced, Van Kettner and his warm brown eyes, strong hands and gruffly tender voice, appeared content being her friend. That was fine, that was good. Her poor heart had never been lucky in love, it was unlikely that was going to change now—no matter how much it ached for more.
CHAPTER THREE
THEWHOLEDRIVEHOME, Camellia had half-heartedly chatted with Astrid and Leif. Now she unpacked the groceries from her canvas shopping bags, handed off each item to Leif or Astrid or whoever stood nearby and was willing to help, and tried to engage in the overlapping conversation that filled the Hill kitchen.
She paused, taking in the scene in the hopes it would ease her sense of disquiet. Gathered around the kitchen was everyone she loved most. Tansy sat in Dane’s lap—where she often resided. Dane, pausing to press a kiss to Tansy’s temple, was helping Magnolia with a crossword puzzle she had spread across the kitchen table. On Mags’s other side, her daughter, Shelby, sat reading over the tattered copy of Langstroth’s beekeeping manual, her baby daughter, Bea, sleeping in the crook of her arm. She was still new to bees, her adoptive family not exactly outdoorsy, but Shelby was determined to learn. She kept a bright stack of sticky tabs within reach to mark important passages. So far, dozens of tabs protruded along the pages’ edges. And Astrid sat in the oversize rocking chair, crooning over the cats, Beeswax and Jammie, as they wedged themselves around her for a long cuddle. Leif, who’d assigned himself her grocery helper, was putting away their haul with admirable speed. Lord Byron, Camellia’s beloved parrot, snoozed on his perch, the only reason he was silent.
Normally, she loved the chaos and noise and comfort of it all. At the moment, she wished for a quiet kitchen, a cup of tea and time to collect herself.
“I’ve heard he’s a jerk,” Leif was saying, taking the bag of chips Camellia handed him. “Like, he was mean to Mr. Diaz.”
“Where did you hear this?” Dane asked, holding his hands out.
Leif tossed the bag of chips to his big brother. “Mrs. Svoboda was talking, real loud—”
“Not surprising.” Mags looked up from her crossword puzzle.
“Who are we talking about?” Camellia interjected, uncertain of the particulars.
“Rebecca Wallace’s nephew,” Mags said, tapping her pencil against the paper. “Mr. Charlie Driver. Apparently, he’s here to wrap up her affairs.”
“Interesting we’ve never heard of him until after his aunt’s death.” Tansy shook her head. “I wonder what he’ll do about the property.”
“Rumor is he’s staying through the summer.” Mags shrugged. “But you never can tell.”
“Maybe I’ll go over and say hello?” Dane offered, tucking Tansy’s hair behind her ear. “See if I can figure out his plan?”
“My hero.” Tansy smiled up at him. “And determine if he’s really a jerk or if Willadeene Svoboda is stirring things up.”
Astrid adjusted Beeswax on one leg, then tucked Jammie in close. “Do we know why he was supposedly mean to Mr. Diaz?”
“Because this guy is a jerk.” Leif sighed. “Some people are just jerks. Other people are just cool. Perfect example—my dad and Mr. Kettner. Dad’s a jerk. Mr. Kettner’s chill.”
Camellia grinned.
“I mean, Mr. Kettner is old, but still cool.” Leif grabbed the handle of the canvas bag. “Where does this go?”
“Old?” Camellia asked. “You think Van is old?”
“Well...yeah.” Leif shrugged. “Older than my dad.”
By a couple of years, maybe.Oldwasn’t the word she’d use to describe the man. Hardworking and resourceful. Generous and kind. Now she could add, manly and handsome and, possibly, sexy.Yes, definitely sexy. The tattoo and the voice and the hands... Thinking about him that way was pointless. He’s a friend. He will only ever be a friend.My sexy friend. She grinned.
And Harald? Like it or not, there was a part of her that softened at his note and the uncertainty on his face. She knew Harald was a scoundrel but, once upon a time, he’d been her scoundrel. While she’d tried to lock away all the happy memories they’d made together, she’d never succeeded. And her scoundrel wanted her back?
“Auntie Camellia?” Tansy was standing beside her, the empty kettle in one hand and an odd look on her face. “Are you all right?
“Of course.” She smiled. That was when she realized the room had fallen silent. “I’m sorry. What did I miss?”
Tansy glanced at Astrid, Astrid glanced at Shelby, Shelby glanced at Mags, and Mags stood—eyes narrowing as she crossed the kitchen.
“Leif was telling us who you happened upon at the grocery store. Do not tell me that look has anything to do with Harald Knudson.” Magnolia’s green eyes bored into Camellia’s. “I don’t care how irresistible you think he is. Resist.”
Camella blinked. Her sister was right. Refusing Harald, tearing up the business card and pretending today hadn’t happened made the most sense.
“Look at you.” Mags pointed at her. “You’re all—” she waved her pointer finger in a circle “—like this.”
