Honeybee Cozy Mysteries Box Set Page 10

  As the water boiled the glass clean, Alice stared out of the window, her thoughts returning to the twin concerns of her upcoming speech at the school and Chester’s operation. Her mind picked at them as though they were scabs, long after Doug had packed up for the day and the honey had been sealed into the pots.

  Chapter Two

  Alice sat in the car outside the school, her heart thumping erratically. Sally should have met her there a good fifteen minutes before but there was still no sign.

  It’s the law of threes, her mind insisted. First there’s the school talk, then the business with Chester. Now Sally must have gotten into a car accident.

  Much as Alice tried to reassure herself the school talk couldn’t be a disaster yet because it hadn’t even begun, nor did she know for sure Chester’s surgery would turn out badly, it didn’t help. When her mind got set into a pattern, it could be impossible to budge. Each turn of the thought stuck it deeper into a rut.

  The ping of a text message arriving on her phone shook Alice’s body into action.

  “Sorry, I’m running a bit late.”

  Instead of reassuring Alice and proving her concern was misplaced, the message ratcheted up her sense of impending doom.

  Sally was never late, not for appointments, not for casual get-togethers, not for nothing. In the years they’d known each other, most spent working closely together, Alice had never known her friend to run late. Certainly, not enough to warrant a message being sent.

  The unthinkable must have happened! What that was, Alice didn’t know for sure, but she could tell it would be appalling.

  Alex Dunbar waved at her from the brick building at the front of the school. When Alice had been attending primary, that would have been the ‘murder house,’ or dental nurse’s office if you wanted to be polite. These days, the schools didn’t have dental staff on the property, so it appeared Tashmore had converted it to the principal’s office instead.

  Now he’d seen her, Alice felt silly sitting in the car and waiting. Given Sally would be another quarter hour at the earliest, Alice decided to head on in and do the job herself.

  After all, gifting the pots of honey to the school was something pleasant, not a chore she should need her hand held throughout. That Alice still wanted the support of her friend’s company was a failing—if she did this and it worked, perhaps she needn’t be so afraid next time.

  She got out of the car and reached into the back seat for the pots of honey. They were tied up with a red gingham print and a bow around the neck, the Bumbling Bumblebee Cafe logo and company spiel tied with the latter. Originally, Alice had piled them into a cardboard box, but it collapsed when only half-full. She’d switched it for one of the rimu trays they used for displaying honey at events.

  “Are they gifts for the school?” Principal Dunbar greeted her. “Or are they for selling to the children after your talk?”

  “Gifts,” Alice said, hesitating for only a second. In truth, it hadn’t occurred to her they might be able to use the talk as a way to sell stock. She still firmly believed the entire thing would be a disaster, so the honey was to make up for it before she could flop.

  “That’s such a thoughtful idea,” Alex Dunbar said, taking the rimu tray out of Alice’s arms and placing it on his desk. He picked up a jar and examined the label closely. “The children will really appreciate it, I’m sure.”

  When he replaced the honey, Alice noticed a light circle of discoloration on his ring finger. She couldn’t remember if he’d worn a wedding band the last time she saw him, but if so, it was now gone. Alex caught her glance and she looked away quickly, feeling uncomfortable as if she’d been caught snooping.

  “I hope so.” Alice reached out a finger to stroke one gingham lid, then she jerked it away. “The honey is fresh and bottled yesterday, although since it keeps pretty much forever, I’m not sure it works as a selling point.”

  Alice cupped her elbows with her hands and put her weight on one foot, uncertain what she should do now. Would it be ruder to stay and hold up the principal after closing time with idle chit-chat, or ruder to leave without even saying a decent hello?

  And this was why she needed Sally on hand. Her extroverted friend saved her from these paroxysms of doubt.

  “Would you like to see the room where you’ll give the talk? It might help if you still have any anxieties around speaking to the children.”

  Alice felt a flood of relief wash through her body at the suggestion and she nodded eagerly. “That would be great, thank you. It’ll help me picture it in my mind.”

  Of course, that picture might then be twisted into an image framing every bad thing that could happen, but that was part of being prepared as well.

  The assembly hall wasn’t at all like Alice had imagined. Instead of a large, echoing chamber, it was a small prefab building to the side of the classrooms, only big enough to hold forty or maybe fifty pupils at a time.

  “One advantage of running a small school is we don’t need the enormous spaces the larger ones have.” Principal Dunbar walked inside, shifting a wooden chair into line as he passed by.

  Someone had arranged four rows of chairs, not in a line facing forward, but in a circle, each row containing more seats than the last. Alice felt the nerves on her back crawl as she thought of pupils sitting behind her, then she forced herself to move forward and take a seat in the middle.

  Okay. This wouldn’t be too bad. Sure, eyes would be on her back but they’d just as likely be staring over her shoulder at the pupils facing forward on the other side.

  “We can change the set-up if you prefer. The last few people to give talks to the kids enjoyed this arrangement but as you can see—” he swept his arm across the laid-out chairs “—it’s easy enough for us to move the seats and change it completely. Another popular formation is to have the speaker with their back against the wall and the children in a semi-circle radiating out.”

  “I like it how it is.” Alice stood and walked around the room, checking from different seats what the view would be. “If I have my back up against the wall, well—” she broke off and shrugged. “It’s an unpleasant saying for a reason.”

  Alex laughed and motioned her toward the door. “That’s fair enough, I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

  They walked in companionable silence back to the main office building. “Actually,” Alex said, his eyes catching the jars of honey sitting on the desk, “if you don’t mind, I might set up a raffle for the honey. That way, the school can raise some funds from it.”

  A voice grumbled out from the entrance behind them, “That’s not what it’s for.”

  Alice turned with a smile, recognizing Sally’s voice, then her expression of pleasure fell away. Her friend, usually cheerful to the point of annoyance, looked to be in the worst mood Alice had ever seen her in. Her hair was pulled back into its usual bun but there were strays floating around, giving her an unkempt appearance.

  Sally must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed, except it was late afternoon.

  Principal Dunbar’s open expression snapped closed and his eyes narrowed briefly before he forced a smile back onto his lips. Alice watched the changes, trying to gauge what her response should be from his. It seemed to her Sally’s initial greeting had been a rude one, but with personal interactions, she was never fully sure.

  “The honey is a gift to the children from our business, it’s not a money-making venture for your school.” Sally placed her hands on her hips, though her stance hardly needed the gesture to appear aggressive. The curl of a sneer and the way her legs were planted apart did that quite nicely.

  “If you want to run a raffle, I don’t have any objections,” Alice whispered. The last thing she wanted was to contradict her friend, and she normally wouldn’t—but then again, Sally wouldn’t usually say something so rude. “It’s a gift, so you can use it how you see fit.”

  “That’s not the point,” Sally interjected, shaking her head, then wincing and puttin
g a hand up to her brow. “The jars are a nice gesture for the children to enjoy. If we wanted to give money to the school, we wouldn’t have gone to all the trouble of bottling it up!”

  Alex Dunbar stepped back, edging behind the safety of his oak desk. “I’m sorry I brought it up. It was just a thought.”

  “It’s a great idea.” Alice moved a step toward him, still sending curious glances in Sally’s direction. Hopefully, whatever was troubling her could be dealt with later. The whole point of giving the honey to the school was to buy good favor to spend in case the talk tomorrow was a disaster. Giving it to them with a lecture on what they could and couldn’t do with it wouldn’t achieve that aim.

  “If you want to run a raffle, we’re more than happy to support that. In fact—” Alice pulled her phone out and shuffled through the photos in the gallery “—we have some stuffed honey bees from an old promotion we can donate to the cause too, if you don’t mind things being second hand.”

  She showed him the photos. The toy bees were in her back room at home, not much use for anything except the opening day promotion they’d been used for, but too cute to throw away. Alice had meant to take them along to the church donation box for ages but somehow it never made it to the top of her priority list. Now, she could kill two birds with one stone.

  “Oh, sure. He’s turning his nose up as our first act of altruism,” Sally grumbled, switching her arms up so they were folded across her chest. “By all means, give him more free stuff.”

  Alice shook her head and frowned. “It’s not altruism. The honey bees and the jars have our business logo splashed all over them. Everything has the name and address of our store on the little tags on the side. You’re the one who told me if we do that, it’s a promotional opportunity.”

  Sally glared at the principal, opened her mouth to say something, then closed it with a snap and turned on her heel to walk out the door. Alice stared after her, completely baffled.

  “I didn’t want to start a fight between you and your business partner,” the principal said. “Of course, the children will be happy with the gifts. The raffle will probably be more trouble than it’s worth.”

  His words left Alice in an even more confused state and she tapped the back of her hand, closing her eyes briefly when the room seemed to fill with glaring light. “If you want to run the raffle, it’s fine. The honey is a gift, not an obligation. I think it would be neat if you used it to raise money for the school as well.”

  She opened her eyes and saw Alex Dunbar was staring back at her with a smile. Good. Perhaps for once, she’d said the right thing.

  “Thank you. In that case, we’ll give it a try. Every bit helps.”

  “Especially out here,” Alice agreed. “Where the Ministry of Education doesn’t dare to tread.”

  The comment was a tag line she’d read on a forum about the fate of semi-rural schools in New Zealand, but Alex laughed uproariously at the sentiment. “I’ll have to remember that,” he said as he escorted her out of the office. “It’s a good one.”

  As Alice walked back to her car, she waved goodbye to Alex who stood in the doorway, watching after her. Sally’s car had already gone, taking its bad-tempered owner along with it.

  A woman pulled in front of Alice, not bothering to lock her vehicle as she got out and hurried toward the principal. When she reached him, the woman leaned up to kiss his cheek, but Alex pulled his head back to avoid the contact.

  His ex-wife? Alice shook her head and looked away. There were other things to worry about than whether the principal of a primary school was happily married. Something was wrong a lot closer to home.

  Considering she wanted to continue working alongside Sally for the next twenty or thirty years, Alice nosed her car out onto the road and headed for the cafe. No matter how irrational her friend’s reactions seemed at the moment, a good partner needed to stay loyal until they worked out any issues.

  Don’t go to bed angry might be a phrase applied to romantic couples, but Alice thought they applied just as well in a business relationship. A few minutes talking with Sally to work out what was happening, then she could go home and relax for the night.

  Or grow ever-tenser waiting for the ax to fall. One of those.

  Chapter Three

  The Bumbling Bumblebee Cafe was packed full of customers and Alice felt a niggle of unease. She walked through the door and immediately regretted her decision. Both the waitress and Sally were red-faced with effort, jostling amongst the customers to make sure every order was taken, and every treat delivered exactly how it should be.

  “I can’t talk,” Sally called out, and to Alice’s relief her voice sounded brighter than it had at the school just minutes before. “Come in tomorrow before your speech, if you want to. Or better yet, drop in afterward to tell me how great it all went.”

  “I will do,” Alice said, waving and moving back outside with a smile. Thank goodness. Whatever bad temper had overtaken Sally appeared to be a fleeting cloud. Not only that, their business was booming.

  Alice headed back home in a much-improved mood that didn’t flag, even when Chester showed no signs of interest in her return. She sat down beside him on the porch, and spent time stroking him, especially his silken ears—her favorite part. At one point, Alice leaned in close and inhaled his scent, breathing deeply and concentrating so she could remember it forever.

  “Well, that’s enough attention for you, old boy,” she said, standing. “If I don’t get a move on, I won’t have time for dinner and to stand in front of the mirror practicing my speech.”

  Alice already knew the words off by heart but wanted to spend some time molding the facial expressions that should go with it. She didn’t want to scare the children and sometimes, if she was concentrating on hard on other things, her face went so slack it looked half dead.

  At least, that’s what people, mostly gone from her life now, had told her.

  If other folks were aware of how much effort Alice spent every day, just trying to act like them because it didn’t come naturally, perhaps they’d cut her some slack. It would be nice, she sometimes thought, if the people who didn’t have social problems met those who did halfway. Maybe then, she’d have more brain power to spend on other things instead of walking around, half exhausted all day long.

  Then a motherly lecture sounded, “You’ll never get anywhere, Alice Townsend, expecting the world to change to fit you.”

  Oh, well. At least cooking up her dinner was a relaxing activity. If it all went horribly wrong, the only person to suffer was herself.

  Alice could have sworn the children kept multiplying every time she wasn’t staring directly at them. Each time she blinked, there’d be more of them. All with eyes hungry to devour every single motion of her body.

  “Hello,” she squeaked, her vocal cords apparently deciding now was the perfect time to play up. Alice tried clearing her throat but all that did was make her realize swallowing was a complex task designed to trip up unwary players.

  “Do you wear yellow every day?” a child called out from the second row back.

  Alice turned her head and forced a smile onto her face. “I do when I’m working at the cafe,” she said, pulling her T-shirt down so the children could read all the words. “The Bumbling Bumblebee is where all my honey products end up.”

  “Do the bees like yellow?”

  Even though Alice had designed her talk so question time came at the end, she tilted her head and decided she could flip the talk around. Usually, changing things at the last minute caused her acute anxiety, but since she was already in that state, it didn’t alter things one bit.

  “I don’t wear this top out when I’m handling the bees,” Alice explained. “Instead, I dress up in a white suit that covers me from head to toe, even my face, so I don’t accidentally get stung. I’ve seen no sign the bees prefer the color yellow, but sometimes I’ve seen them head straight for anything blue.”

  “Like what?”

  “Wash
ing on the line,” Alice said, and a few children laughed. A pinprick stabbed at her chest, but she looked closely at the faces peering at her in rapt attention and decided it expressed pleasure, not mockery. “They love the small blue flowers on rosemary bushes and will dance around those for days.”

  A boy stuck his hand up in the air, wriggling on his seat and trying to stretch it higher. Alice nodded to him, “Yes?”

  “What happens if you go near the bees without wearing the suit? Will they sting you to death?”

  “Bees aren’t very aggressive naturally, but they are extremely protective. If I was standing nearby the hives, minding my own business, they probably wouldn’t bother me at all. If I made a move toward their queen, though—”

  Alice broke off and sucked air in over her teeth. The boy’s eyes widened with terror and delight. “What? What!?”

  “They’d sting me until I got the message and backed off.” Alice jumped back in her chair in demonstration, and the collective group of children gasped. Then she leaned forward. “Honeybees don’t like to sting you. If they do, they die, so it’s very much a last resort.”

  “I got stung,” a girl called out from the back of the room. She waved her hand in the air, too, but Alice worked out after a moment it was in demonstration of her injury, not to ask a follow up question. “I did a handstand out on the grass and there was a bee on the dandelion.”

  “Ooh. I bet that hurt!”

  “Still does.” The girl ducked her head down as the room turned, a sudden bout of shyness overcoming her. “My mom said I should think myself lucky it wasn’t a wasp.”

  “Oh, yes. Wasps are a different story altogether. If you see honey bees out in the field, they’re just working away, collecting honey and trying to feed the hive. If you see a wasp, walk the other way.” Alice frowned, making her face look as ferocious and grumpy as possible. “They’re in a permanently bad mood, and they’re quite willing to take it out on you.”