7. Dean: Saving the Bees

Dean – Saving the Bees

Chapter seven

"Why did you vote ‘no,' Dad?" Dylan asks after our guests have gone. "Do you really think the bee thing is a bad idea?"

"Well, I was kind of conflicted. I didn't want us to commit to a task that'd require us to be here long-term. You know that isn't the plan."

"I know, but—"

"However, the more I thought about it, I figured it would be a good way for us to make ‘good' with the Dale family, and once I finally build Cornel Condominiums, maybe we can have beekeeping classes available or something."

"Oh, good idea. Maybe Dwight could teach them."

"Exactly what I was thinking."

I'm proud of him for thinking along similar lines as me, but there's also a part of me—deep down—that feels sad that I'm raising him to be so conniving. Shaking off any negative feelings I remind myself that in the past I was a lot more trusting and got sucker punched by my wife leaving me for another man. I vowed that would never happen again. So, I joined my father's company and became who I am today.

If I can save my son from dealing with the pain I did, I'm going to do it. He's already experienced the hardship of having his mother abandon him. He doesn't need to face any others.

Sure, she sends the occasional birthday card, but they're usually a week or two late, and she only signs them with "Love, Mom." He usually just throws them out as soon as they arrive.

No matter how angry I am at Anna, I've tried to have very little control or say over their relationship. Whatever effort she wants to put in is her business. However, how he chooses to accept that is his.

My job is just to be the best father to him that I can be. And right now, that involves reaching out to the eccentric Dwight Summers to talk about bees.

"Coral?" I ask when she picks up.

"Yeah, boss?" There's loud music in the background, and I'm guessing she's enjoying her night at some club.

"Sorry to call you after hours."

"That's fine. What can I do for you?"

"Can you please send me Dwight Summers's number?"

"Oh. Why do you want to talk to that weirdo?"

"He's not a weirdo… He's just different."

"Same thing."

"Either way—"

"Yes, yes, the boss is always right. Hold on. I'll transfer you. I'm just trying to locate his name in your contacts." She pauses. "Wait, there it is. Transferring you now."

"Thanks. I appreciate you."

"You better."

The line drops but starts ringing moments later.

"Hello?" A gruff voice asks.

"Hey, Dwight?"

"Speaking." Fittingly, I can hear bees buzzing down the line.

"Hey, this is Dean Cornel. I'm not sure if you remember me—"

"Cornel?" He interrupts. "Are you the one who almost tanked your dad's company?"

I feel like banging my head against the wall, but I don't.

"Uh, no. That's Ryan. I'm the other one."

"Oh, okay. What can I do you for?"

"Well, I hope to get some of your expertise on keeping beehives."

"Is that right?"

"Mhm. A…" What do I call Mae? My neighbor? The beautiful woman next door? "A friend of mine found some old hives on her property, and she's interested in reviving them."

"Hmm." His response sounds a bit like the buzz of a bee, and I have to stop myself from snorting out a laugh.

"Do you think that would be something you'd be interested in doing?"

"I could come out and assess the situation."

"Great."

"When were you thinking?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure they want to get this thing looked at as soon as they can. So, maybe tomorrow night? Would that work?"

"Is she right here in Petaluma?"

"Yes. Do you know where Cramer's Cheese and Winery is?"

"Yeah, I've taken Seraphina there on a date or two."

"Oh!" I didn't have a clue that he had a female companion. If even Dwight can find love, then it shouldn't be impossible for me to do the same. "Okay, well, it's the second farm before the turn-off."

"All right."

"Do you want me to give you the address?"

"No, the bees—or at least their carcasses—will call to me."

I pull the phone away to avoid him hearing my laughter while I shake my head and grab the bridge of my nose.

But once I collect myself, I say, "Okay. Sounds great, man. Thank you. I really appreciate it."

"I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it—"

"Yeah, for the bees. I get it. Well, thanks anyway. We'll see you tomorrow evening."

Dylan walks in as I hang up. "Well?" he asks.

"The guy is a certified weirdo. But he's going to do it."

"That's great. Mina's going to be so excited. Is it okay if I go over there quickly to tell her the good news?"

"Fine. But hurry back. We still have to drive home."

"Right."

***

"Hey, stranger!" Mae shouts through my window the following evening. She looks gorgeous, as usual, and I think I must be developing a thing for female farmers. Or at least, women who look like they've been exerting themselves all day. That must be it because the only other explanation is that I'm starting to fall for Mae Dale, and that cannot happen.

"How's it going?" I ask her.

"Pretty good. So, when should we expect this friend of yours to come?"

"Dwight—uh, he shows up when he feels like it."

"I see." She shoots me a smile and again, I feel that zap of attraction shoot through me.

"Oh, and I had a follow-up conversation with him today. He's going to bring this special suit that a man from Wales developed after a friend of his suffered an allergic reaction while visiting his hives. I guess it's thicker than normal suits or something. So, Mina will be extra protected once the bees arrive."

"Wow, thanks for thinking of that."

"Of course." I'm not getting soft for this woman, I tell myself. I can't become soft for her.

"That sounds kind of expensive. How much do I owe you?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure? I know I don't have stable employment right now, but I don't want to be a charity case."

"You're not. It was such a nominal price. It wouldn't even be worth it to Venmo me or whatever." That isn't exactly the truth. It cost me almost two hundred dollars, but continuing to get in her and her family's good graces will have me seeing multiple zeroes behind that number in no time once the condos are built. So, I see it as a small investment in the future.

"Okay, if you're sure."

"Yes. Plus, you made us that fabulous dinner last night."

"Oh, that reminds me. We're having spaghetti and meatballs tonight if you and Dylan are interested."

"We'd be honored," I say, before realizing what I'm agreeing to.

"Great. Do you want to come over to our house this time?"

"Sure." It's all for the condos, I keep telling myself. Nothing else.

"Hey, I noticed that you and Dylan didn't stay overnight at the new place."

"Oh, uh. We're moving in little by little, so sleeping in the other apartment is easier for now."

"Gotcha," she says. But there's something in her tone that makes me feel like she doesn't entirely believe me. Maybe I'm just paranoid because she told me she sees something dark in me.

Thankfully, I hear the loud sounds of Dwight's vintage car heading down the road.

Mae covers her ears. "What is that?"

"Dwight's prized Packard."

"Huh?"

"His Packard," I yell louder.

"Oh!"

When Dwight parks his car and the sound cuts off, I head out to greet him.

"Thanks for making it out here, Dwight."

"No problem." He looks the same as I remember with his large, silver wire glasses, and his hair parted perfectly down the middle. I often wonder if the writers of The Office were inspired by him.

"Dwight this is Mae Dale. She lives here."

"Hello, Mr. Summers." Mae holds out her hand in greeting.

"Mr. Summers was my father," Dwight says, shaking her hand. "Please, just call me Dwight."

"Okay, Dwight." Mae smiles. "Like Dean said, thanks for coming."

Dwight doesn't respond. He just starts walking toward the abandoned hives.

"He says the bees—or at least their dead bodies—talk to him," I whisper.

Mae's eyes open wide, and I smirk. She's not smiling at Dwight any longer.

"I know. But he knows what he's doing."

"I trust you," Mae whispers, and my heart trips over itself at her soft tone.

"Oh, these sure are beautiful," Dwight comments, after taking the boxes and slides apart. He's a distracting presence, thankfully, because I think I may be coming down with a fever or something. It's the only explanation for my delirious thinking.

"So, do you think there's any hope for us to salvage them?" Mae asks.

"Sure. But you'll have to go to Bruce," Dwight says, his focus still on the boxes.

"Bruce?"

"Bruce Nylon. He's a breeder in Cotati. He'll set you up with the best queens. He breeds them for productivity and friendliness."

"But make sure you tell him that you know me. He doesn't sell to just any novice beekeeper."

"Got it." Mae shoots me a look that I can't help but respond to with a grin.

After that, we follow Dwight back to his car and call out for the kids to join us.

"Dwight, this is Mina, Mae's daughter, and Dylan. You briefly met once at a Christmas party or something."

"Charmed," he says, which leaves us with confused looks on our faces.

When he turns his back to get something out of his car, I just scrunch up my nose to suggest they ignore his eccentricities. Mina grins at my face, and I notice again how much she looks like her mom.

"Okay, so I have the ‘Dwight Summers Beekeeper Accessory Pack 101,'" Dwight says, his arms full of stuff.

"Wow, that's great."

"But first, I want to show you the Sentinel Pro 3D Bee Suit. This is for the little lady with the allergies."

"That's me," Mina says.

"Ah. Well, this was developed by a man in Wales…"

"I explained that." Of course, I only told her mother, but I can tell by the glazed-over look on Mina's face that she has little interest in learning the back story.

"I see. Well, this thing was designed specifically for people like you." He looks at Mae's daughter. "The material is three and a half millimeters thick, whereas the common bee stinger is about one point eight millimeters. So, even if you get stung, your skin has less chance of being punctured. And I went for the veil option over the hat."

"Thank—thank you." Mina beams at Dwight. So does Mae, for that matter. Pride swells in my chest. Everything's going according to plan. By the time the condos are built, Mae and I will be friends, and she'll be nothing but happy with the neighbors.

"Of course. Just because someone is allergic to these majestic beings…" Dwight stops and chortles. "Get it? Bee-ings?"

I do my best to fake a laugh.

"Anyway, that shouldn't keep you from promoting their lives and honey production."

"Thank you, Dwight," Mae jumps in to say.

"Mhm." He gives the rest of us our more traditional protective gear and gloves before continuing, "Okay, so this is the steamer. You're going to use this to spray the hives to calm the bees down."

"How does that work?" Dylan asks.

"I'm glad you asked. Well, they excrete pheromones, and that's how they talk to each other. So, when they're stressed out, they emanate this odor that's almost like…cherries? That's the closest thing I can think of to describe it. Then, when you spray them, that calms them down, and they stop communicating that there's a danger."

"Oh, so that prevents them from freaking out and trying to attack you?" Mae posits.

"Exactly."

And he goes on to describe the use of the bee brush and a hive tool that has both kids in rapt attention.

I can't help but think how adorable it is to watch them listen so intently to Dwight's lecture. It's almost like we're one big happy family about to embark on this adventure together. Even Dylan seems to be hanging off Dwight's every word.

I can see it on the marquee now: The Cornel-Dale Bunch Does Beekeeping.

I just hope we can all still hang out like this once the condos are built. For Dylan's sake, of course.