Page 84 of Puck Daddies
I snort a laugh. “That’s my job. Use your money for you, you goofball.”
Anthony checks the schedule. “Who’s running the rooftop tours?”
“Lila and Oliver. Two people at a time, ten minutes, no touching the hives.”
Aqua arrives in full glam—gold dress, black bee brooch, hair high, makeup on point. She kisses both my cheeks. “Showtime, baby.” She claps twice, and the room wakes up.
Hudson brings in four crates of BRAVE candles and stacks them on the shelf under the bee painting. The labels are perfectly clean and level. The tins look good. A small sign nearby reads:BRAVE — honey, cream, coffee. All profits to Bea’s community fund.He lights one tester at the back counter. It smells like home.
Oliver checks the scholarship materials one more time. The poster board is simple.The Aunt Bea Bridges Scholarship for Pollinator Studies.Two $5,000 awards are to be presented each year to local students entering entomology or environmental science programs with a focus on bees. Applications open next week. The sponsor line at the bottom lists Bea’s, the Baltimore Black Devils’ foundation, and three vendors who insisted on helping. They’re all in the business and plan to mentor our recipients.
Aunt Bea would be so proud.
Rocco tunes with the pianist near the hex wall. He runs the verse of “Honey Light” under his breath, then shuts his mouth to save it for the set. He squeezes my hand as he passes. “You ready?”
“I am. You?”
“Ready.” He helps Tom string the small rope by the espresso bar so no one trips over a cable.
Doors open at nine. The line formed at eight. Regulars point at the plaque covered with paper by the door and ask when. Noon. We’ll do the roof first, then speeches, then music. People order lattes and stare at the wall of names until they find their tile. It’s full now. Anthony added a small frame under the bottom row for the overflow list and mounted it to the side like an annex. I run my hand over the hexes when I pass.
I still can’t believe any of this worked.
At ten, Lila takes the first pair up the stairs, and the rest of us work as the team we’ve always been. By eleven, the roof schedule is full. People take short videos of the skyline and stop short of the hives, like we asked. Lila gives the same talk to each group. What a queen does, why pollen matters, how many hives fit onlow roofs, why you don’t swat. She keeps it clear and short. Oliver points out the signage, the water bucket, and the bee bath stones he found at a garden store, as well as sugar water techniques for tired bees.
Noon hits. Aqua gathers the crowd near the door. “Welcome to Bea’s Grand Re-Opening. We survived nonsense. We’re still here, thanks to all of you. Baltimore is strong together. We proved that. Give yourselves a round of applause!” The clapping sounds like winter rain, strong at first, dying quickly. “Today, we cut a ribbon and put up a plaque. Today we say thank you.” She nods to me.
I pull the paper down. The plaque is simple steel on wood.Bea’s Rooftop Apiary. For Bea, who fed us, body and soul.
I run a hand over her name and swallow. “Aunt Bea would tell us to get back to work,” I say into Aqua’s mic. “So we will. But first, thank you. To our neighbors, to the team, to our vendors, to my staff. You kept this place alive with your feet and your dollars and your patience. There is no thank-you that could ever be enough, but today, we’ll try.”
Aqua brings Oliver up. He holds the scholarship poster. “In Aunt Bea’s honor, we’re launching a scholarship for local students who want to study bees and pollinators. Two awards a year. Applications open next week. Details on the site. If you know a student, send them our way.”
Aqua takes over again. “Baltimore, let’s go!”
The crowd disperses throughout the store to their interests. Hudson flips the BRAVE sign toAvailable,and the shelf empties in under an hour. He keeps restocking from the back. People smell the tester on the counter and nod like they agree with thetin. A kid buys one for his mom and says she likes candles that smell like breakfast. Hudson tells him this one will do.
Rocco goes on at one. He sings four pieces and ends with “Honey Light.” The chorus is quiet and strong. He looks at me on the last phrase, and my throat tightens in a good way. The room stands and claps and stays quiet while he takes a small bow.
Out front, the line stretches to the door again. We move faster. Today, the point is not to make money. The point is to be open and steady and here. Money comes anyway. A couple who got engaged at our window table buys four candle tins and slips a check in the jar by the scholarship flyers. I put the check in the safe and write them a thank-you on a tile card.
We cut the bee bar cake at four. It looks like honeycomb and tastes like honey and vanilla and lemon. Bex made three. All three are gone by four thirty. Lila confirms the bees are still calm, despite the visitors. The sky stays clear. The wind stays low.
It feels like Aunt Bea is watching over us.
There’s something else I want to do, and I’ve gotten good at demanding what I want, so I go for it. I take a small jar of honey from the counter, dip my fingers in, and hold up my sticky hand. Then I smile at Hudson and tip my head to the jar. He steps forward and does the same. Rocco and Oliver follow. We stand shoulder to shoulder by the honey wall and lace our honey-slick fingers together. Tom snaps the photo tight on hands only. No faces. No names. Just four hands and a bit of the hexagonal wall tiles behind them.
I post it on Bea’s account with the caption I wrote last night.Love is messy, sticky, and worth every sting.I hit share and put the phone face down. “Thanks, guys.”
Oliver smiles. “Anytime.”
When the last customer leaves, I lock the door and flip the sign. The crew gathers by the wall without me asking. Oliver hands out folders with scholarship details so everyone can answer basic questions. Rocco thanks the pianist and the audio tech. Hudson carries the last box of tins to the shelf so we can start tomorrow stocked.
Aqua kicks off her heels and sighs. “One hell of a day.”
I clear my throat. “I have one more thank-you. To all of you.” I look at each face. “You made this place what it is. I can pay you, but I can’t pay you back.”
Tom salutes with a dishrag. “We’ll take the pay.”
