Chapter 11
Honey
The walls of the small bedroom at the end of the hall were what could only be described as bubblegum pink. Honey blinked against the brightness, thinking the color should violate some housing code.
She hadn’t planned to accept Ethan’s offer to stay in his youngest daughter’s room, but in the end, it had been the most logical solution.
Staying onsite eliminated her commute, which meant she could dive into the audit first thing each morning.
It also gave her a front-row seat to observe the daily workings of the orchard and maybe help them put systems in place that would stop the financial bleeding.
She didn’t need to like the pink walls. She just needed an outlet and a door that closed.
Marlene supervised from the doorway while Melly, whose room this was, methodically packed her “essentials” into an overstuffed laundry basket she planned to drag down the hall to her sister’s room where she’d be staying for the duration of the audit.
By essentials, it turned out, she meant her favorite stuffies.
It must be a loose definition of “favorite” as Honey lost count somewhere around twenty-six.
Honey had wanted to get right to work, but unfortunately her computer needed to charge.
So here she was, stuck perched on the child-size beanbag chair and questioning if she’d get out of it with her dignity intact while she watched as Melly tried to shove a third stuffed alpaca into her laundry basket.
“Thank you for letting me use your bedroom,” Honey said.
“It used to be haunted, you know,” Brooke said, as she flounced in and plopped on the edge of the twin bed, her expression entirely too pleased.
“Used to be?” Honey asked, raising an eyebrow. “Then it sounds like I’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Doesn’t it scare you?” Brooke pressed.
“Why should I be scared of a formerly haunted room?” Honey asked, shrugging. “Sounds like the ghost got bored and moved on.”
“But what if it comes back,” Brooke asked, leaning forward, “and eats your guts?”
“Oh, hush. Go find your dad,” Marlene said, and ruffled Brooke’s hair. “I have to get going soon, so I can’t watch you ruffians all night.”
Brooke tromped off down the hall, disappointment that she couldn’t scare Honey again evident.
“I really can see ghosts,” Melly said, jutting her chin out like she expected Honey to disagree and was ready to fight her on it.
“An invaluable skill, I suppose.”
Melly considered that for a second, then nodded once and shimmied herself under her bed, presumably to grab another treasured animal. When she emerged, it was with a headless animal in a tutu, which she laid atop the pile on the laundry basket and began tugging toward the bedroom door.
“Even if he was here, Hanky would never eat your guts,” she added matter-of-factly, reaching into the laundry basket to smooth one of the alpaca’s ears. “He’s a vegetarian.”
Honey bit back a smile and pushed herself to standing. “Good to know. I’ll sleep easier.”
Marlene stooped to lift the laundry basket with a grunt and nodded toward the hallway. “Let’s go settle you in, kid.”
The room emptied out, and Honey was alone.
She stood there for a moment. It was strange how a room full of pink and plush could feel so still the second it was empty of its people. Like all the color got flatter. Just paint on drywall.
Now alone in the room, Honey began her inspection for bedbugs.
Honey rubbed her palms on her thighs and got to work, starting with the mattress seams. She didn’t travel much—she was a homebody by default—but one summer her parents had insisted on a weeklong trip to the Jersey Shore for their third vow renewal.
It had involved sage smoke, matching linen pants, and a fair amount of illicit substances Honey had to pretend not to see.
Honey had spent most of it counting down the minutes until she could leave and the next two weeks itching the constellation of welts she’d picked up from a charming little Airbnb with a very active infestation.
Since then, she never unpacked a bag without checking the corners of a mattress.
She lifted the edge of the comforter and pulled back the pillow.
That’s when she saw it: a photo tucked beneath.
Honey hesitated.
Then, she looked.
The image was faded and a little crinkled at the corners.
The woman in the photo was laughing, her head tipped back but staring beyond the camera, directly at whoever was holding it.
She had long, sun-bleached hair and lipstick the color of raspberries.
There was something wild in her eyes, like she lived loud and made no apologies for it.
The opposite of Honey.
A flicker of envy curled low in her chest. It didn’t make sense. Honey liked her quiet life, her color-coded checklists and clean linens, her tidy rows of plans and outcomes. She didn’t want wild. Not really. She certainly didn’t want a photo taken when she wasn’t ready.
And yet—
The way the woman looked at whoever was behind the camera…it tugged at something.
She promptly flipped the picture over.
“Melly?” Honey called out.
There was no answer, just the distant creak of a floorboard.
Holding the photo between two fingers, Honey followed the sound down the hall to the open doorway and peeked in to find Melly carefully arranging a circle of stuffed animals around the spare twin bed.
Each one faced outward, like a team of sentries.
Marlene stood at the window, her brow furrowed as she looked out.
Honey waited in the doorway. “I think you forgot something.”
Melly turned and, when she saw what Honey was holding, her eyes widened. She ran over and clutched the photo to her chest. “That’s my mommy.”
“She’s very beautiful,” Honey said, her voice soft.
Honey glanced around the room at the plain, practical furnishings, the matching quilts and blue wrought-iron beds.
There was no trace of that woman beyond this one well-loved photo.
She was sure that if she knew her better, she could spot a few echoes in the girl’s features.
A tilt of the nose. The curve of a smile.
There were no framed portraits on the wall, no coat on the coatrack, no perfume clinging to the curtains.
She wondered if the girls’ mother was even alive. And if she wasn’t, why no one had said a word about her.
It wasn’t her place to ask, but it still sat heavy on her tongue.
Honey crouched to Melly’s level. “Would you like me to help you find a safe place for her?” she asked gently, nodding to the photo. “Somewhere she can keep watch while you sleep?”
Melly considered, then nodded solemnly. “Yeah. She likes being close.”
Honey swallowed the lump rising in her throat and entered the room, wondering how someone could be so vividly present in a single photograph and yet so heartbreakingly absent everywhere else.
Honey rested the photo against the little white lamp on the nightstand. “There, that’s the place.”
Marlene, still by the window, gave a little nod of approval. Then she turned to Melly and said, “Go on, sweet pea. Get your daddy. I’ve got to head out.”
Grabbing the headless stuffed animal, Melly skipped out of the room, completely oblivious to Honey’s inner turmoil.
Marlene exhaled as she scooted a stuffed unicorn to the side and eased herself down on the bed. Her eyes went to the photo and softened. “She was always a wild one.”
Honey made a sound of acknowledgment.
“Leticia wasn’t a bad person,” Marlene added, quieter now. “Just...different. Some people are born with too much inside them, and no one ever teaches them where to put it.”
Honey followed her gaze to the picture on the nightstand. “When you’re a witch, that can go badly.”
“She loved magic,” Marlene said. “Spells for everything—laughs, luck, love. She never stopped to think about the consequences. Not until it was too late.” Her voice was flat, but there was pain beneath it.
“What happened to her?”
“One day the bureau came knocking. Just took her. Vanished like smoke.”
Honey’s eyes widened. No wonder Ethan hated her on principle.
That wasn’t how it was supposed to work.
Even if someone broke regulations, there were hearings, steps, structure.
She shouldn’t have just disappeared. Honey should look into it—pull the records, follow the paper trail, see if anything had been missed.
Then she stopped herself.
It wasn’t her jurisdiction, and it certainly wasn’t her place.
The silence stretched between them until Marlene looked at her again. “I don’t know what your story is, Honey, or why the bureau sent you, but I can see that you’ve got a good heart. That’s rare. Just...be careful. This family’s seen a lot of hurt.”
She nodded. “Thank you for telling me.”
Marlene stood, brushing invisible dust from her pants. “Don’t thank me yet,” she said, heading for the door. “Just do right by them.”
Honey sat there while Marlene left. She placed the stuffed unicorn back into the arrangement and straightened a bear that had toppled over. She heard Marlene’s voice floating in from the window. She resisted the urge to get up and look, but she simply couldn’t help but listen in.
“You going out again this weekend?” Marlene asked.
“Don’t start,” Ethan said.
“You know what I think. The girls have one parent and you—”
“Look, Marlene.” Honey leaned forward as if she could hear the end of the sentence better. “I appreciate what a help you’ve been with the girls. But I got it.”
“You can’t do it all alone.”
“I’m managing,” he replied. “Ain’t my first time juggling bowling pins with my shoelaces tied.”
Marlene snorted. “One of these days, those pins are gonna fall.”
There was a pause. Then Ethan’s voice again, softer this time. “Yeah, well. I’ll catch them.”