6. Mae: A Shared Meal

Mae – A Shared Meal

Chapter six

I wipe what I believe to be the last cobweb off the wall when Dylan and Mina come rushing in.

"Bees!" my daughter exclaims.

I immediately spring into action and grab her an EpiPen from the back pocket of my jeans. I've always carried one around for her, but I've been even more paranoid about it since we moved onto the farm.

"Don't worry. I'm okay." I pop the cap open with my mouth, and I go to stab her in the thigh.

"No, no. Mom, I'm fine. I didn't get stung," she explains. She puts one hand on my shoulder while backing the rest of her body out of my reach.

"Oh!" I go to close the pen again, but my adrenaline is so high that my hands are shaking wildly.

"Here." Dean takes it from me and completes the task for me. Our hands brush, and I feel something electric shoot down my fingertips.

"Thanks."

He goes over to a backpack on the counter and takes an EpiPen of his own out. "Peanuts."

"Ah," I say as I mentally scan the ingredients I used to make the casserole, but I calm down as I assure myself that no nuts were involved. In fact, I don't know if we have any peanuts in our home at all. None of us have ever been PB&J people.

"Okay, so if you weren't stung, what was all the commotion about?" I ask.

"We were at the very end of our property, and we found all of these wooden boxes stacked on top of each other," Mina says excitedly.

"I recognized them as the kind where beehives are kept," Dylan says.

"And you went to investigate further?" I was instantly mad at Mina for being so na?ve.

"Oh, no. I backed away," Mina assures me. I relax an inch.

"Okay, good. I was about to say you're smarter than that."

"But I'm not," Dylan says with pride. I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Boys. I've forgotten how silly they can be, especially around a girl they like. "So, I went over there, and while I thought they were going to be empty because there weren't bees flying everywhere, I was still kind of sad to see that they were. You know, with all of them dying around the world and stuff."

"We were thinking that maybe we could bring them back to life," Mina says.

"What? With your allergies? I don't think that's a good idea."

"It actually should be fine," Dylan says.

"And how can you be so sure about that?" I realize I sound a little bit too harsh. But it's my kid's health we're talking about.

"Well, as long as we keep them happy and at the very tip of the property, they likely won't have any interest or reason to come anywhere near the house or the barn. So, I mean, the risk for her isn't any greater than just being outside and in nature in the first place." Dylan says it with conviction, but I can see the tips of his ears growing red. His dad must have raised him well if he speaks his mind so well, even in the face of a disapproving adult.

"I don't know…" I say.

"What's wrong?" Grandpa Bob says through the screen door. "I heard yelling."

"The kids found some old beehives."

Right away, I see terror in his eyes. "Mina wasn't stung. There aren't any bees in there right now," I say.

He sighs as if he was holding his breath. "Thank goodness."

"Please, come in," Dean says, opening the door.

"Thank you."

"But now they're saying they want to revive the thing and get bees back in the hives," I continue.

"They shouldn't be interested in coming near the main house or the barn as long as we tend to them properly. And even when we have to go near them, we'll have protective gear on," Dylan says, his voice breaking at the end. He might seem confident, but he's still just a fourteen-year-old kid.

"Wait, so what are you all saying?" Grandpa asks, before sitting down at the table.

"We want to establish a colony of bees," Dylan says, looking my grandpa in his eyes as he says it.

"Think about it, Grandpa. We'd be helping the environment by keeping a bunch of bees alive. Also, we could sell the honey," Mina chimes in.

"You know," he rubs at his chin, "I have always wanted to learn to make mead."

"Mead?" the kids ask in tandem.

"It's an alcoholic beverage that's made with honey and water," he explains.

"Oh. It sounds like something that would be served at the Renaissance fair." Mina says.

"For sure," Dylan adds, giving Mina a dopey look. I can't help but think how sweet it is. Young love. If only I could experience something like that as an adult, maybe I wouldn't be a single mother sleeping alone every night.

"Dang, Grandpa. I knew you were old, but I didn't know you were that old."

He smiles. "Yes, Wilhelmina. I've been alive for thousands of years."

"I mean, you look great," she teases him.

"Little girl, you're lucky your mother won't let me hit you with this cane."

As much as I appreciate their playful relationship, I want to get back to the topic at hand.

"Can we go back to talking about bees, please? Let's take a vote. The Cornels included, since the decision could affect both of our properties. On the count of three, hold your thumb up or down. One, two, three."

Dean and I voted ‘nay,' while everyone else went with ‘yay.'

"Three to two," Dylan announces. "We win!"

"Ugh. I still don't feel great about this." Especially since the only adult who voted ‘yay' was Grandpa.

"I actually know a beekeeper," Dean offers. "He might be willing to help out."

"Really? Who?" I ask. This man, I think to myself. Not only is he handsome, but he just keeps being kind and helpful.

"His name's Dwight Summers. I've worked with him in the past. Would you feel more comfortable if we talked to him and he confirmed—or denied—what Dylan said?"

"I mean, sure. I guess." It sounds reasonable, but the idea of inviting more bees to the farm sends a shiver of anxiety through me.

"Okay, I'll set it up. I'm sure he can give us information, and maybe even help along the way."

"Thanks," I say, looking up into Dean's handsome face and those captivating eyes. His expression is open and genial, but there's something else there. A fire that can't be tamed, a fire that could burn me in all the best ways.

"Until then, my stomach's kind of growling," he says, bringing me out of my fantasy.

"Oh, sure. Let's eat." Now is definitely not the time to be having those thoughts of romance. I blame it on that man and his silver eyes. "Do you have any plates and silverware?"

"Shoot. No. That was going to be our next run," Dean says, a sheepish look on his face. How can this man look so devastatingly hot and shy at the same time? It's honestly not fair.

"No problem. Mina, please go over and get some for us."

"Dylan, go help," Dean adds.

They head out the door.

"Now that they're gone, do you really think this whole bee thing is a good idea?" I ask Grandpa Bob.

"I think Mina has a point about the honey production, he replies. "You were so worried about finding something to bring in revenue, and that certainly would! Especially if we find a local farmers market or small store to sell it at."

"He has a point. People love supporting locally sourced stuff," Dean says.

I sigh. "I understand both of your points. But what about Mina's allergy? I mean, Dean. Imagine that, for whatever reason, there was suddenly a swarm of peanuts on your property, and they had the ability to fly around to any part of it."

Grandpa Bob understandably looks confused.

"His son is very allergic to peanuts. And I'm just using that scenario as a hypothetical," I explain.

"Well, if there was someone with experience in…raising flying peanuts…who could tell me how safe it would be, and it was important in helping the planet and my bank account, I guess I wouldn't have an issue. That's why I want to bring Dwight in to talk with you. Plus, the kids are so excited about it."

"Yeah, I am always looking for ways to get Mina's focus on something other than a screen," I admit. Dean gives me a look that tells me he understands my pain. Teenagers.

Before we say anything else, the kids return and lay everything on the Cornels' table.

"Thank you very much," I tell them both, and Dean nods.

Dylan flushes again. But Mina brushes off my compliment with a "No problem."

"So," I start, "I'm going to warn you both beforehand that I'm not exactly the best chef ever."

"She's just being modest," Grandpa Bob says.

"Well, thank you, Grandpa. But really, I know the bare minimum. Please don't expect culinary excellence. It's just a basic chicken pot pie casserole."

They all dig in, and I wait to see their reactions.

"Honestly, it's delicious." Dylan is the first to offer input. When I first saw Dylan scowling in his dad's truck, I thought he was just another grumpy teenager. But the more I get to know him, the more I see the kind boy underneath all the teenage hormones. I know how hard being a single parent can be, but Dean's clearly done a great job.

"He's right," Dean adds. Now, it's my turn for my face to flush. It's just because of the compliment. Not because of the man who said it. Nope, not at all.

"You have to know that we don't have the most sophisticated palates either. I was raised primarily on TV dinners," Dylan admits with a grin.

"Again, the boy speaks the truth," his father says.

"Well, either way, thank you for the compliments," I say.

"How did everything go at the firm, Mom?" Mina asks, changing the subject.

"Oh, um…about as great as I thought it would."

"Is that good or bad?" Dean inquires.

"Uh, pretty uneventful. My boss is a misogynist and narcissist who never seemed to value me in the first place, so the idea of me not being around didn't really concern him. There are plenty of other women for him to objectify for his and the clients' benefit." Am I ranting? Maybe that smarmy little weasel who used to be my boss just seems to bring that out of me.

"He's a disgrace to the name," Grandpa says.

"His name is also Bob," I explain to those in the room who didn't already know it.

"Speaking of hitting someone with my cane, I would give almost anything to smack that little twerp."

"Calm down, Grandpa. It's okay. Honestly, though, I would love to see that."

"No, it isn't okay, sweetheart." His irritation is rising. I can tell because he has this one vein that makes itself prominent in the middle of his forehead when he's upset. Fondness for the man who raised me swells in my heart. He's always been protective of me. "He was so rude to you. What was it that he said at that meeting?"

"Well, he's said a lot of degrading things in front of our colleagues. But I assume you're talking about the time he said I was a ‘glorified paralegal.'"

"Such a jerk." Grandpa angrily forks another bite off of his plate.

"That he was…is."

"What else did he say?" Mina asks. She sounds like she's getting just as angry as Grandpa.

"He just shrugged and asked what I was going to do next. When I said I didn't know, he rolled his eyes. I suppose it is a plus because he said I could just be done in a week or so. In my employment contract, it says I have to give a month's notice, so I was sure to get that week release date in writing, and signed! " I didn't and don't trust that man.

"Oh, so you may want to start this bee thing sooner rather than later?" Dean muses. He has a frown on his face as if he's irritated about something. I can't imagine what that could be, though. Unless he was lying when he said the casserole tasted good.

"Well, I do have some savings to cover us for a while," I admit. It's been just Grandpa and me for so long, and then Grandpa, me, and Mina. We were never hurting for money, but I learned to be frugal.

"It's preferable not to use that, though, right? And the farm will have to become self-sufficient at some point, or we may have to sell the land," Grandpa offers.

"True," I say.

"Just curious, but how does it feel to leave the legal field?" Dean asks.

I'm quiet for a moment while I think about that. "Honestly, it feels great."

"Really?" He seems shocked.

"Yeah, it never felt like the right fit for me. I should have realized that in law school, but I think I genuinely just liked going to school. I loved the homework, the tests, everything."

"Wow, you are a rare breed." Dean smiles at me, and I feel my heart flutter.

"And I'll tell ya, Dean," Grandpa begins. "She's always been like that. Every parent-teacher conference I attended would always come with a great report about how enthusiastic she was about school, and she even inspired some of the other kids to get excited about learning, too."

"Oh?"

I can tell Dean is confused about why my grandfather was the one who went to such meetings.

"My parents died when I was very young. It was a car accident involving a drunk driver," I tell him.

"I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

"That's okay. I was actually in the car too. So was my sister, Phoebe. But I was the only one who made it out."

"Again, I'm so sorry. Oh man…"

"It's really fine. I don't even remember it. Thank goodness." I've heard all the condolences before. Even though I know Dean means them, it's still hard to hear the sympathy all these years later.

Grandpa Bob leans over and pats my leg. "And she's been with me ever since."

"And I am so fortunate for that." I smile at my grandpa. He's the best.

"What about a Mrs. Grandpa Bob?" Dylan asks.

"Dylan!"

Grandpa and I both chuckle a little. We're often asked that question.

"Unfortunately, that devil known as cancer took her when Mae's mother was in high school. She was the love of my life, so I never bothered looking for another."

"Wow. That's so much loss," says Dean. "I have to apologize for how nosey the Cornel men have been today."

"Like I said, it's fine. We'd rather be open with everything instead of closed off. That doesn't do anything to honor any of their memories. It might be hard to remember, but it's much better than forgetting," Grandpa offers.

"That's a great way of looking at it." Dean reaches across the table to squeeze my hand, then realizing precisely what he's doing, he snatches it back with a sheepish smile. My heart flutters again, and I wonder if I should make an appointment with a cardiologist. Dean might be handsome, kind, and a great father, but there's no way I'm falling for the neighbor with the devilish look in his eyes. Right?

I clear my throat and add: "Plus, it teaches you to cherish every day that you have. Life is so precious, you know?"

"Absolutely."

After that, I hold my tongue. There are so many questions I want to ask Dean about his life, but I get the sense that he's more guarded than Grandpa Bob and me when it comes to talking about the past.

"Oh!" I suddenly exclaim. "There's a peach cobbler in the fridge. Mina, would you mind going over and getting it? Sorry to ask you again."

"Sure. It's no problem."

I'm starting to think that having this Dylan around is pretty great. Mina's obviously not arguing with me so she doesn't look bad in front of him.

"I brought dessert plates, too," she announces when she returns.

"Great thinking."

I dish out a piece for everyone.

"Mmm! Delicious!" I hear in waves. And I smile to myself, because this cobbler? …definitely store-bought. But the less the handsome neighbor knows about my cooking prowess, the better.