Page 2 of The Sweetest Thing
Tansy wasn’t givingthe boya thing. As far back as she could remember, Tansy and Dane had gone toe-to-toe. From middle school spelling bees, fundraisers and Junior Beekeepers competitions, to two publicly humiliating and painful weeks in high school that forever cemented their mutual dislike of one another. She stopped that line of thought cold. Bottom line, they’d been each other’s fiercest competition. But it wasn’t the competition that irked her or the time and work she’d put in to besting him, it wasDane. He had been—he stillwas, this article proved that—heartless. Heartless and selfish. To him, life was a game, and toying with people’s emotions was all part of it. Over and over again, she’d invested time and energy and hours of hard work and he’d just sort of winged it. As far as Tansy knew, he’d never suffered any consequences for his lackluster efforts. No, the great Dane Knudson could charm his way through pretty much any situation. One thing was certain: Dane and his father were both rotten to the core.
“Drive? Or ego? Maybe he’s finally bitten off more than he can chew?” Tansy shook her head. “What he’s planning has nothing to do with beekeeping.” If anything, there was the potential for disaster. Forallof them. And now this...this expansion of his could cost her family their home, the farm, the bees...everything. Tansy’s stomach knotted with dread.
“We should file a protest,” Aunt Camellia said, taking a third muffin.
“It’s his private property, Camellia.” Aunt Magnolia sipped her tea, one fine red eyebrow arching. “He can do as he pleases. Besides, it sounds like the city council is on board.”
Tansy didn’t want to think about just how charming he’d been to manage that.Ugh. She took one of the still-warm lavender-honey lemon poppy seed muffins and pulled it apart. The scent flooded her nostrils and made her stomach growl. Fluffy and golden, with just the faintest hint of their homegrown lavender-infused honey. She took a bite and moaned. “Oh, yum, Auntie Mags. These are heaven.”
“Of course, they are. I made them.” Magnolia smiled. “But mostly because it’s Granna Hazel’s recipe.” She winked.
Tansy spread on some of the honey butter she’d made the week before. Over the years, she learned how to balance rich flavors with a smooth-as-silk texture—making all Honey Hill honey butters spread perfectly. She took a bite, moaned again and smiled. “So, so good.”
“Why not go talk to him?” Astrid asked.
Tansy almost choked on her muffin. “Me?”
“Yes, you.” Astrid shot their aunt a look. “Aunt Camellia can’t.”
“I can’t and I won’t. I’m not setting foot on that man’s property.” Aunt Camellia nodded so vigorously that her reddish-blond curls shook. She crossed her arms over her ample bosom and leaned back against her chair, declaring, “And I won’t be responsible for my behavior ifheever dared show up here.”Hemeaning Dane’s ne’er-do-well father, Harald Knudson.
“Dared show up here,” Lord Byron repeated, the parrot bobbing up and down on his perch.
Aunt Camellia smiled at the parrot. “What do you have now?” she asked, retrieving the page of newspaper Lord Byron was standing on. The parrot was always taking things and hiding them away, but Aunt Camellia so adored him that he was rarely scolded—much to Aunt Magnolia’s disapproval. “Little thief,” Aunt Camellia all but cooed, then she fed him a cracker.
“I don’t think Harald Knudson would ever think about visiting Honey Hill Farm, Camellia.” Aunt Magnolia shrugged. “Which is good because we need to spend our money carefully, not bailing you out of jail. Your bird, however, could use some time locked up.” She glared at the parrot. Lord Byron glared right back.
Astrid shrugged. “You have to go, Tansy. I’d only make things ten times worse, and you know it.”
“I doubt that,” Tansy argued, though she knew what her sister meant. Astrid would go on a long diatribe about the welfare of the bees, how beekeeping was about equity and respect and balance, before she ever addressed the very real, very legitimate concerns this expansion could cause. A whole list of worries that included things like how vehicle exhaust fumes disrupted a bee’s scent signals, the necessity of an environmental study done prior to any construction—all to ensure no harm or disruption for the land, animals and bees...
Oh, how she loathed Dane Knudson—now more than ever.
He had to know that clearing or changing his property could cataclysmically alter the hives’ pollen source, didn’t he? Or that a queen would relocate her hive if she feared they were in danger? Or that bringing in people, people who didn’t understand bees or honey or anything about beekeeping, could stress a hive and impact their honey production or have them desert their home? A real beekeeper would carefully consider all of this, plus some, before considering such a...a scheme. Since Dane Knudson proclaimed to be a beekeeper, from a long line of beekeepers, he should know of this.He should knowbetter.
“Aunt Magnolia shouldn’t go because she intimidates...well, everyone. That’s not exactly conducive to conversation.” Astrid shrugged, running a hand along Beeswax’s orange-striped back. “Sorry, Aunt Mags.”
Tansy couldn’t help but wonder if Dane Knudson didn’t need to be intimidated a little. Or a lot.
“Don’t be. I love being intimidating. It’s so...so powerful.” Aunt Magnolia smiled. “You can do the same, Tansy. Try it, you’ll like it. Put that brawny boy in his place.”
“Too bad Rosemary isn’t here.” Astrid sighed. “She’d have the perfect talking points for him, spout off just the right numbers and present it so matter-of-factly that he couldn’t argue.”
But their genius little sister, Rosemary, was off following her dreams and participating in a truly innovative bee genomics postgrad study in California.Too far away to call in for backup.
So apparently, Tansy was it. “Unlike Rosemary, the chances of me remaining matter-of-fact are slight.”Especially when I’m face-to-face withthat self-inflated, condescending, ridiculously good-looking, unethicaljerk.
“Tansy, darling, there is absolutely no reason to let him upset you so. Make your concerns known.” Aunt Magnolia sipped her tea. “Stay calm and cool. Keep the upper hand.”
“She’s right, Tansy. He’s the same bully he was in high school. Getting under your skin for fun,” Astrid reminded her. “But you’re older and wiser and you know how he works so he can’t get to you anymore.” She smiled, sort of. “Just remember what Auntie Mags said. Be intimidating.”
“They’re right, Tansy, darling.” Aunt Camellia patted her hand. “You can do it.”
“You can do it,” Lord Byron squawked.
Tansy didn’t miss the way both her aunts looked at her—Astrid, too. None of them appeared convinced that she could have a productive conversation with their Viking-ish neighbor. And that included herself.Butif I don’t talk to Dane, then there’s no chance of stopping his idioticplan.What choice did she have?
DANEMOVEDTHEboxes one at a time, checking the labels to make sure they contained the large hex-shaped honey jars they used to bottle Texas Viking Honey before stacking them onto the waiting cart. “Looks right.”
