“Are you kidding? He’s not going to budge.”
Cassie had to smile at her father with his nose pressed against the glass. “At least don’t let him out here.”
After Andrew went in, she trudged alone down the driveway, checking again to make sure her pants were tucked all the way into her boots. Not even knee-high beekeeping boots, just old mud boots she’d found in the closet. But her veil was tightly zipped. Sleeves tucked into gloves. Pants tucked into boots. She could do this.
She thought of her dad waiting by the window. She had to.
She waded through the field, riotous with wildflowers. The ancient stone wall, bits of it crumbling, but still intact. And the house, presiding over it all like an elegant dowager. How had she failed to appreciate this all these years? The closer she got to inking the deal with Weber the more reservations she had. It wasn’t just Glenn, although he’d made her think. Until now, the development had been theoretical, but seeing the Kingsley property ripped up had excavated a hole inside her too. Rubble where trees had been, the woods leveled to make way for fancy homes. She’d run the numbers half a dozen times but still didn’t see any other way.
She approached the hives cautiously, puffing the smoker to make sure it was still lit, her heart in overdrive like she’d downed a whole pot of coffee.
Andooh shit.
The wasps! The air churned with them. Dozens, no hundreds of wasps swarming the hives. Zeroing right into the boxes!
A pitched battle was underway. Honeybees boiled from the narrow entrances in an effort to repel the attacking wasps. The bees surged out, trying valiantly to smother the yellowjackets and keep them from getting in but the wasps came on. There was no end to them! The air seethed with yellowjackets. They were easy to spot—more streamlined than the bees, with those devilish stripes. And wicked fast. Launching themselves past the defending bees into the belly of the hives.
Cassie yelped when one tested her veil.Wait!What was that terrible tingling inside her suit! What if one was crawling up her leg? Didn’t Glenn say they could sting repeatedly? She shook one leg, then the other in a crazy dance.
Oh, why had she come out here?
She forced herself to breathe. Deep breath in. Long breath out. She calmed slightly.
Okay. Nothing had found a way inside her suit.
She crept closer, puffing smoke furiously, but the wasps didn’t seem bothered. They dove through the entrances at the bottom of the boxes, overwhelming the bees.
Then an awful thought. The smoke was supposed to relax the bees, that was how you opened up the hive. But if she knocked out the bees, it was all over. They couldn’t fight if they were comatose.
She stepped back, coughing from the smoke, trying to think. The bees were fighting their little hearts out. Three of them had a wasp on the ropes, the yellowjacket on its back, moving feebly.But a dozen more had taken its place. The bees couldn’t keep up. There must be thousands of wasps, unending reinforcements.
Cassie felt a gust of despair. Moving was going to be hard enough on her dad but to have to tell him his beloved bees had been wiped out by wasps would break his heart. It would be more than he could bear.
She turned away, unable to watch the carnage any longer. The bees would fight to the end, she had no doubt. But the wasps were a superior force. They outnumbered the bees and they were vicious.
She put a safe distance between herself and the hives, checking to make sure nobody was following, then shook off the veil and fished out her phone. Glenn could be here in half an hour. Maybe less. He was done with her, but he might come for her dad.
She wavered, heartsick about everything. The bees, the property, the way life had almost offered up something wonderful. Her marriage had failed. Her memory might fail. Her relationship with Glenn had definitely failed. If she went running to him about the bees, it would be one more thing she couldn’t get right. Maybe he could save them and maybe he couldn’t.
She opened up her internet browser. You could find anything online; she’d found a beekeeper that way. If you could slow down mites with powdered sugar, there had to be a remedy for wasps. It was just a matter of finding it.
She startled when a yellowjacket buzzed her head, then took aim with the only weapon she had: the smoker. She gave the wasp a satisfying swat and it tumbled to the ground.
One down, ten thousand to go.
...
Overnight mail was a wonderful thing. The package arrived right on time, and Cassie ripped it open with her dad hovering over her shoulder. She’d watched a dozen YouTube videos about fending off wasps, and they all promised an entrance reducer was an easy fix. Or at least a possible fix. That was the thing she was learning about beekeeping—nothing was for sure. You could try powdered sugar and drone comb and still have mites. Or wasps.
Life was a constant struggle. But wasn’t it always? She had to admire the bees. They kept their heads down and did what had to be done, fighting off the wasps as best they could.
“It’s supposed to work,” she said to her dad as they examined the slim piece of wood. She was secretly dismayed to see how flimsy it was.This was it? This ten-inch piece of cedar was going to save the day?
Her dad smoothed a finger along the wood. “I’ve seen them work. Had a friend—what’s his name, that guy up the road—” He frowned, trying to remember the friend’s name, then gave up with a frustrated shrug. “Anyway, he had them on his hives. Kept the robbing down.”
Her dad had been waiting impatiently for the package to arrive. Who knew why some days were better than others? A good night’s sleep, a pleasant dream. Today he remembered about entrance reducers and even that he’d had a beekeeping friend. Some days his memory coughed to life like an old car.
“Should we go see?” Cassie said.
