Until the Dawn by Elizabeth Camden Page A

that if you smile for the bees they will not sting you? That you can appease them with the force of your sweetness and light?”
    He was mocking her, but yes, she actually did believe it was possible to live in harmony with the bees. “I usually say ‘good morning’ to them whenever I open up a hive,” she admitted. “But I’m not stupid about it. I put them in a drowsy mood by waving a smoker beneath the box for a few minutes. I’ve been doing it for years.”
    “And you’ve never been stung?”
    She shrugged. “I’ve been stung a few times, but I survived. I really do believe that if a person treats all living things with respect, eventually the enemy will soften and we can all live together in peace.”
    She looked him directly in the eye, the veiled challenge obvious. Since arriving in New Holland, Quentin Vandermark had banished the servants, fired his governess, and threatened to demolish a cherished landmark, all without patience, understanding, or bothering to ask anyone’s opinion. He was a smart man and knew exactly what she was implying. His eyes glinted with cynical humor.
    “Then heaven help you,” he said brusquely. “One of these days the world is going to clobber you flat.”
    “I thought you didn’t believe in heaven,” she teased.
    “I don’t. It is an expression of sympathy for a naïve woman who thinks the world is populated by benevolent enemies and friendly bees.”
    She smiled as she stepped around him and up onto the landing. “I’m sorry, Mr. Vandermark, even your surly words can’t dampen my mood today.” After all, the morning was dawning bright and clear, the scent of jasmine perfumed the air, and she was going to bake a delightful honeycake this afternoon.
    No matter what, she was going to try kindness to soften Quentin. If that didn’t work, perhaps her growing affinity with Pieter might buy her some goodwill. Or three hearty meals a day. It would take time and patience, but she intended to establish a rapport with Quentin, just as she had done with the bees.
    But it wasn’t going to be easy. She returned home that night to find her father grim-faced and holding a letter for her.
    “You’ve had a message from the Weather Bureau,” he said as he turned the note over.
    A trickle of anger awakened as Sophie read the letter.
We have been informed your station needs relocation due to improper installation on private property without the owner’s consent. Please select a new location immediately and re-read the manual for station volunteers. Unauthorized intrusion on private property is a violation of the bureau’s standards and will not be tolerated.
    She’d never been reprimanded by the Weather Bureau before, and it hurt. A slow burn began to build, for this was Quentin Vandermark’s doing. The man had a lot of nerve to tattle on her, especially given that she was using Weather Bureau equipment to mentor his son. Even worse, this did not show her in a good light for persuading the government to build a climate observatory in New Holland.
    Why did he dislike her so much? Although Pieter and the bodyguards appreciated her presence, Quentin found endless fault with her. He criticized the way she sang in the kitchen, the happy faces she drew with icing atop her spice cookies, even the way she skipped up and down the staircases.
    It was one thing for him to be rude to her face, but she couldn’t let him damage her reputation with the Weather Bureau. She wasn’t going to let him hobble away like he typically did whenever she was in his presence. Sometimes a person had to stand up to a tyrant. Sophie would much rather bake her enemy a nice blueberry pie and soften him with kind words, but she’d been trying that ever since the Vandermarks arrived, with little to show for it.
    It was time to try a bit of justified outrage.

7
    T HE FOLLOWING MORNING , Sophie found Quentin in Dierenpark’s library, measuring the columns that supported the wraparound gallery above them. It