Page 14 of On The Honey Side (Blum's Bees)

“Hi, Keaton,” Daisy started, hesitating near the door. “I’m sorry to bother you without an appointment.”

I didn’t know when I’d stood up, but that was when I noticed. Maybe it’d been instinctive manners to stand when a woman entered a room. Maybe it’d been that siren song, and next thing I knew, I’d be stumbling around my desk and into her.

I hoped it wouldn’t be the latter. I couldn’t gauge how much I’d already embarrassed myself and didn’t want to make it any worse.

I gestured to the chairs in front of me. “You’re no bother. Please, sit.”

As she did, so did I.

“What can I do for you?”

Again, she hesitated, glancing at her hands before tucking a wisp of hair behind her ear, then thinking again and untucking it.

I couldn’t help but smile just a little. “I didn’t do anything to make you nervous, did I?”

That earned me a small laugh, accompanied by a relaxing of her shoulders. “No, I’m sorry. I was just thinking that the last time you saw me, I was in my pajamas.”

“Barefoot,” I added.

The color in her cheeks deepened, though she was still smiling. “My sisters are cruel creatures. I’d have preferred a second to put some clothes on.”

“Don’t think twice about it. I didn’t,” I lied. I’d thought at least thirty times past twice about it.

Something in her shifted at my words, closed up, stiffened, though still, she was smiling. I realized what I’d said could be taken another way, but I didn’t correct myself.

It’s better for everyone if I don’t.

“Well,” she started, sitting up a little straighter, her back at least six inches from the chair, “I wanted to reach out and see if you’d be willing to work with my sisters and I on a project we’re starting. After the other day with Doug, I thought you might be interested in building a homeless shelter.”

She launched into a proposal that she and her sisters had cooked up after our interaction on Main Street, and I sat back, listening and watching the light in her shine. They wanted to build a tiny house shelter on their property, set up a community facility there, a clinic. And would we want to be a part of the project?

“Yes,” I said without hesitation.

“You would?” she asked, blinking as if confused.

“You’re surprised?”

“Well, I … I suppose I thought you might want to see some plans or a business proposal or something before you agreed.”

For a moment, I paused, collecting my thoughts. “Daisy, this town is part of my family, even Doug and Mitchell and the rest of them. It’s just like you said—if they want to get rid of the homeless, we can help by relocating them. Give them a place to stay off Main Street. Help them find jobs and get on their feet. It’s the best idea I’ve heard since they started coming to town.”

An understanding passed between us, lit her up. And her flame lit me up.

“Yes, exactly,” she said, excited. “Grant is going to fund it, but we’re going to do some outreach too. I’d like to get some numbers together for him and a budget ready for you. Is there any way we could get some sort of … off the record, ballpark figure?” She shook her head. “Never mind. I won’t put that pressure on you.”

“No, it’s all right.” I paused again. “How many tiny homes?”

“At least ten. Really, we’d like fifteen or twenty, plus a community building with some medical facilities. A shower room, that sort of thing.”

I nodded, already drawing up plans in my mind. “Let me look into it. I want to see what kind of prefab materials we can get, see where we can cut costs.”

“And your labor too.”

I was already shaking my head like a fool. “I’m not going to charge you.”

“Technically, you’d be charging Grant.”

“We can build your twenty homes if I do it for cost.”

She frowned, “But—”

“I won’t hear of it. Please, consider this my contribution.”

Again, her cheeks flushed deep enough to splotch at the edges. Her eyes shone with emotion. “That’s … you’re too generous, Keaton.”

Stupid was what I was, but there was no way I could take any profit from this, not when the money could be used to help not only the people who needed it, but to take a step to bridge the gap in our town. Everybody could win.

“It’s nothing,” I lied again, certain I would find my way out of my financial hole despite giving my work away for free.

Surely it had nothing to do with Daisy.

The stirring in my chest kicked up embers from coals long thought cold, buried beneath a coat of ashes. But instead of stoking them, I stamped them out, not out of spite. Out of fear that if the fire got loose it would burn me down.

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