Page 10 of The Burbs and the Bees
I can’t even imagine what’s available in this small town or what hours they even keep. I’m sure my
wool blanket is more fashionable than what I’d find locally. I almost snort. What would my friends say if they could see me now? Honestly, though, why should I care? None of them came to see me off. My closest friend Lucy sent a text, but it’s not the same, and it’s not the first time I’ve questioned our friendship or why she and the others really hang out with me.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mom asks. “Your voice is a bit shaky.”
Oh, probably because I’m in over my head for real this time, sinking like a stone tossed into the Atlantic with no Mr. Hottie, aka Jay, to fish me out.
“Mom, I’m fine.” If I tell her otherwise, she’ll insist I come home, maybe even send one of her drivers to pick me up. I am not going back to New York. At least not a second before my thirty days are up. Nothing will stop me from sticking it out. Nothing short of the Ebola virus, and I’d fight that to the death first.
A knock sounds at my door for the second time today. I am so not in the mood for another visitor—although the lady next door was nice. But I’m in my underwear, draped in an itchy blanket.
“Someone’s at the door. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” I say as I slowly pace the old farmhouse, going from the tidy kitchen to the front door. I peer out the dirty window to see an elderly gentleman this time. His skin is tanned and weathered from the outdoors. A neighboring farmer, I assume. Everyone seems anxious to meet the new owner.
Mom’s voice pulls me back. “If you need anything—”
“I’ll be fine,” I say. “Love you.”
“Love you, too, dear.”
I end the call and twist the knob. “Can I help you?” I ask, as the man frowns and takes in my attire.
“Afternoon, Miss. I heard the new owners moved in and thought I’d stop by and introduce myself.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Alyson.” I hold my hand out, and he stares at it for a second.
“Is your father home?”
“My father is in New York.” I plaster on a smile. “I’m the new owner.”
His brows jump, almost all the way to his hairline, and I get it. I’m not at all what they expected. Even the lady next door seemed surprised.
“Jack was my great uncle,” I explain. Wait, if he was Mom’s great-uncle, that makes him my great-great, right? I might have to Google that later.
“I’m Charlie Miller. Didn’t know Jack had any family.”
“I didn’t know I had an uncle until recently,” I tell him.
“Are you a farmer?”
“Not—”
Before I can get the words out, he says, “I’m guessing you’ll be looking to sell the place.”
“Not right away,” I mutter, more to myself.
“Excuse me?”
“Ah, I have to stay here for a bit. I’ve got some things that need taking care of. I’ll be here at least to the end of summer. Guaranteed.”
“Well then, when you’re ready, you let me know. One of the locals has been looking to buy this place forever.” He jerks his head to the left. “I’m just down yonder. Give a shout if you need anything. Your uncle was a good man, and we’re here to help.”
Down yonder?
Must be a country turn of phrase. “Okay, I’m sure I’ll have a few questions,” I say. Even though I don’t know what they are yet, and I’m praying there is some sort of instruction book around.
“I’ll let you get settled then.” His gaze flicks to my blanket again.
“Thanks,” I say, not wanting to go into why I’m wearing a prickly blanket. I need to get out of it, now. It’s like one thousand bees are stinging my flesh.
