Page 16 of Honey Bee Hearts

“He did,” I reassure her.

“Good. Don can be a bit of an. . . well, an ass.” She offers her hand. “I’m Marge. I handle the commercial accounts and am the resident bread baker.”

She’s an older woman and gives off a motherly air. Everything about her makes me feel as if she’d be willing to tell me a story if I asked and that I’d enjoy every moment of it.

“Oh! You must have made the banana bread in my basket! It was amazing. I tried a bite of it and I’m dying at how amazing it is,” I tell her.

She beams under my praise. “You can have as much of it as you’d like. Rhett likes it, too, so I’m often making it at least once a week, if not more. I had to beat him off with my rolling pin to make sure I had a loaf for you.”

“Almost snuck into the cabin to steal it, too,” Rhett says unapologetically. “Marge’s banana bread is worth all repercussions.”

I chuckle. “Agreed. It’s damn good.”

Marge pats me on the shoulder, her face flushed with happiness, as a man comes in through the doorway carrying a large tray.

“And I’m Mel,” he announces. “I know you’re probably hungry after your long trip, so I’ll wait until after to really introduce myself. I hope you’re not a vegan. I didn’t think to ask about meat preferences until after I’d already made the burgers. But if this isn’t okay, I can go make more?—”

“No, no,” I interrupt, holding up my hands. “I’m not vegan or anything like that.”

“Allergies?”

I shake my head. “Nope. I can eat anything.”

He visibly relaxes. “Oh, good. I was frantically trying to think of meals that would fit a vegan diet and was coming up with nothing. We don’t exactly have many vegans out here, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t have managed.” He comes over and pats me on the head. “Let me know if there’s a topping you’d like that isn’t out on the table. Sometimes, old Mel forgets something.”

“This is perfect, thank you,” I tell him.

“VIPs first,” Rhett instructs. “You get the first burger.”

“Oh,” I say, immediately reaching for a hamburger bun so no one is waiting for me. I use the tongs to grab a patty. The moment I grab one, everyone else reaches in and takes what they want. The table is set up family style, so everyone just serves themselves and there’s something charming about it. I can’t help watching them all as they settle into conversation. Laughter fills the room, and it feels just like. . . it feels like a family.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Jinx whispers in my ear. “To see someone else living the dream?”

Jinx had been my family, and I hadn’t realized until now how much I missed our dinners. Sometimes it was just leftovers heated up in the microwave. Sometimes it was takeout. But we always sat together and told each other about our day. Every night. We made a point to have dinner together. We may not have been sisters by blood, but we were in every other way it mattered. When I lost her, I lost that, too.

Smiling, I reach for the cheese and toppings and build my burger. I listen to the conversations, joining in when I’m able. Rhett is clearly the life of the party, but Gunnar is a close second. At one point, when Rhett isn’t looking, he sticks something on Rhett’s plate and holds up his finger for me to be quiet when I notice. Rhett turns back and screeches when he sees the rubber roach sitting on his burger before he scowls and throws it at Gunnar.

“Very funny, asshole,” he growls. “You’re trying to make me look bad in front of Fable.”

“I would never,” Gunnar laughs, winking at me. At that point, a little girl comes prancing into the room. Gunnar perks up and scoots his chair over so she can drag up a chair. “Fable, this is Callie. My daughter.” Her eyes are bright as she waves at me excitedly before building her own burger.

“Nice to meet you,” I say, smiling gently at her. Amongst everyone in what I’d consider western wear and comfy clothing, Callie is all glitter and princess sparkles. Her hair is adorned with big sparkly bows to match. She doesn’t look much older than eight.

“Nice to meet you, too,” she replies, taking a seat next to her dad. “I like your necklace.”

I reach up and touch my fingers to the small locket there. “Thank you. My sister gave it to me.”

“It’s pretty,” she gushes before pointing to her own beaded necklace. “I made this one.”

“You did?” I say, leaning forward. It’s strung with pretty matching beads and charms. “You did a great job. It’s very pretty.”

“Thank you!” she beams. “I’ll make one for you if you want.”

My eyes flick up to Gunnar where he sits smiling at his daughter. It’s clear he adores her. “I would absolutely love that, Callie,” I tell her honestly. “I like to make things, too.”

She perks up. “You do?”

I nod. “I do. I’ll have to show you sometime.”

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