The Beekeeper's Ball: Bella Vista Chronicles Book 2 by Susan Wiggs Page A

briefly for school, but...I had to cut it short, and ended up right back here.” Isabel often felt awkward, explaining that she’d never been anywhere. It made her feel incomplete, somehow. She handed Jamie a glass of lemonade. “Should we go take a look at the hives?”
    “Sure.”
    The girl’s car was parked in a graveled side lot next to Cormac O’Neill’s Jeep. Jamie’s old hatchback had definitely seen better days. The passenger door was marred by dents like unhealed bruises, the spots primed with putty-colored Bondo. The front seat held a battered guitar case secured in place with a seat belt. The back dash was crammed with clothing and a couple of rumpled pillows. Overflowing cardboard boxes covered the back and passenger seats. One large crate was filled with empty canning jars.
    “I’m, uh, kind of in transition,” Jamie said. “Haven’t really settled in yet.”
    “Oh!” Isabel flushed, knowing she’d been caught staring. “Settled...you mean you’re just moving to town?”
    “That’s right. I’m hoping there’s enough work locally to keep me busy.”
    “Well, I think you’re going to love Archangel. And I can keep you as busy as you want to be, because I’ve got big plans for Bella Vista honey. The hives are over there, on that east-facing slope by the milkweed.”
    “Great,” said Jamie. “Milkweed’s the best.”
    “I was thinking it might be too windy and exposed over there.”
    Jamie slowly turned to study the area, shading her eyes as she surveyed the orchards and gardens, the stone-built outbuildings, the patios and arbors. “This is really nice,” she said. “I don’t think wind will be a problem here.”
    Isabel felt a welling of pride. Bella Vista really was that beautiful, and the renovations were designed to enhance the setting to create an irresistible destination.
    “I’m glad you like it. It’s been a busy year for me, but I don’t want to give up on my bees, so I’m hoping you’ll take on the project.”
    “That’s why I came,” said Jamie, surveying the view.
    “I’m launching a farm-to-table cooking school, and honey will be one of our key ingredients. Over there—” she indicated the long green meadow with a pathway connecting the patio to the stone and timber barn “—that’s the event space. The barn’s been converted into a hall for banquets and dancing. My sister’s getting married this summer. Our first event.”
    “Cool,” said Jamie.
    “Needless to say, there’s honey on the menu. That’s Tess’s theme for the whole affair. All the planning is fun, but tons of work.”
    She saw Jamie’s attention turn to an oak tree in the meadow, its branches spread as wide as it was tall. There, Magnus sat in the shade with his new constant companion. Mac was seated backward on the chair, his arms folded over the back as the old man talked. After getting together just a few days before, the two of them were already inseparable. It was gratifying, and maybe a little unsettling, to observe the fast-growing intimacy between the two men. “My grandfather. And our houseguest, Mac. A guy who’s working with him on a project.”
    She wondered what they were talking about. Mac seemed so easy and affable in Grandfather’s company. Yet judging by her conversation with him yesterday morning, she had concluded that he was not a morning person. Come to think of it, he wasn’t particularly an afternoon or evening person. Maybe he was cranky all the time. She’d already resolved to keep her distance and let him get on with the Magnus project. She had enough on her plate. But she couldn’t deny that Mac was distracting. Very distracting.
    “My grandfather’s always been really good about letting the milkweed grow,” she said. “He’s never considered it a blight like some growers do.”
    This time of year, the purple blooms were busy with life—not just the bees, but butterflies and ladybugs, skippers and emerald-toned beetles, flitting hummingbirds