Chapter Three
Glenn was elbow deep in a customer’s hive when the woman called.
He didn’t usually answer his phone when he was working bees, but he’d told Lilah to let him know when she got home.
Made her promise. He liked to be around for her on the weekends, but it had been one crisis after another.
A customer in Ridgefield whose colony had swarmed, and now Mr. Conte, new to beekeeping, who’d opened up his hive for the first time this spring and found very few bees left.
People didn’t realize they had to leave their bees honey over the winter.
You couldn’t harvest every drop in the fall and expect them to survive.
Conte had called in a panic, and Glenn couldn’t say no.
He set the frame down gently so he didn’t crush any of the bees crawling on top. Mr. Conte hovered like an expectant father. “So what do I do now?” he said.
“First of all, we’ll take a look and see if your queen survived.
” The guy should have had enough sense to keep his bees alive, but all kinds of people got into beekeeping.
Most just liked the idea of honey and had no clue what was involved.
Glenn lifted out another frame from the middle of the box, a likely place for the queen.
“Strong hive can re-queen itself, but a weak hive like this, you’ll probably have to order one.
Frames and worker bees too.” He didn’t see a queen, or any brood for that matter, which didn’t bode well.
When his phone buzzed a second time, he lowered the frame back into the box.
“Excuse me a minute,” he said. He instructed Conte to pull out a couple more frames and keep looking for the queen.
“You’ll see her if you look carefully. She’s bigger than the workers.
” He walked off a couple of yards. When you weren’t working bees it was better to give them some room.
They didn’t like people hanging around the hive.
Couldn’t blame them. He wouldn’t want some stranger loitering around his house either.
He’d helped Conte site the hives last summer, a yard in North Stamford with good southeast exposure where they got morning sun. Plenty of room, with woods edging the property and forage for the bees. And no pesticides. He wouldn’t work bees for people who sprayed. Period.
He waited until Conte had successfully extracted a frame, then pulled out his phone.
Not Lilah.
He rubbed the stiffness in his neck. She should be home by now.
He was a little uneasy about this new friend of hers.
He didn’t know the family and even though Lilah had assured him the mom was going to be home, he had his doubts.
Not that Lilah actually lied, she just conveniently forgot.
Like the time he went to pick her up at the movies, and she’d gone off with a friend to get ice cream.
“I didn’t know you were coming,” she’d said.
“I thought I was supposed to call.” He was about to try her now when his phone lit up again.
The same number. Who was this? He felt a prickle of worry. The hospital. The police. A million things could happen to a twelve-year-old girl.
“Glenn Marsden,” he said curtly, his heart suspended. Lilah was his everything. There would be no world without her.
“I’m so glad I reached you.” The woman sounded out of breath. “I’m looking for help with some bees. For my father, actually. He’s the one with the bees. We have a bit of an emergency.”
“What kind of emergency?” His heart rate began to settle. It wasn’t about Lilah. Just some homeowner with what they thought was an emergency. “Bees get into the house?” That was it ninety percent of the time.
“Oh God, no! I mean I hope not, there’s no sign of that. I haven’t seen any inside the house.”
He glanced over at Conte, who was trying to replace a frame. He’d stirred up the hive, what was left of it, and a bunch of bees were flying around his head. It wouldn’t take long before one found its way up his pant leg or under his veil.
“So what’s the problem?” He didn’t have time for a long conversation, he needed to make sure Lilah was home where she was supposed to be.
It was easier when the babysitter used to come, but now, in seventh grade that was a nonstarter.
Last week, he’d made the mistake of yelling at her when she went to a friend’s and didn’t tell him, which sent her into a funk for two days.
God help him, he had no road map for parenting a preteen girl.
“The problem is my dad ordered a box of bees and has nowhere to put them. They’re here right now and—”
“Well, he’ll need a hive for starters.” This was no emergency, just someone who’d failed to plan. He had no time for this.
“He has a couple of hives, but they already have bees in them. Look, he’s ah…” She dropped her voice. “He’s eighty-five and having memory issues. He needs help. Is there any way you can stop by?”
“So he has bees now?” Across the yard, Conte was struggling with another frame. They must be stuck together with propolis. Bees would glue together every crack if you let them. “Can you put him on? It would be helpful if I could talk to him.” He needed to wrap this up, deal with Conte and get home.
“He ah…doesn’t know I’m calling. It would be better if you could just come by.”
“He doesn’t know you’re calling?” He had no patience for people who weren’t transparent. He’d had enough of that with Sophie. “Why don’t you talk it over with your dad. If he’s interested, he can give me a call. I’m sorry, I have to go.”
“Wait. What do I do with these bees? My dad’s been keeping bees for years, but it’s too much for him now.
I’m just here for a few days, and I need to get him some help.
Please. I don’t even know if he should be living on his own anymore, much less handling bees.
” She said this last almost like she was talking to herself, like she’d forgotten he was on the phone.
“Is it a package of bees or is there a queen? If there’s no queen, he can introduce them into one of his other hives.
” He still hoped he could get her off the phone without committing himself, but he did feel bad for the old man.
If he did have memory problems, handling bees would be tough.
You had to know what you were doing and what you did the day before.
“I believe there’s a queen, yes he said so. But he can’t even manage the boxes anymore. He nearly dropped one yesterday.”
Glenn sighed. “Where do you live? I might be able to swing by later this afternoon. But if your dad’s not on board, it’s not going to work.”
“He’ll be on board! I promise.” She sounded immensely relieved. “Thank you so much.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he muttered. “I haven’t done anything.”
. . .
Lilah was already home when he got there, curled up on the couch with her phone like nothing in the world was the matter. The dog jumped down guiltily, but Lilah barely glanced up.
“When did you get home?” Glenn said. “You didn’t answer your phone.”
“Oh yeah, sorry. I meant to call you back.”
He took a breath. He was sweaty from wrestling with Conte’s hives and had gotten stung on the neck for his trouble. Stings didn’t usually bother him, but he hadn’t gotten the stinger out in time and this one was starting to swell, adding to his aggravation.
“Lilah, we need to talk.” He sat on the couch, which the dog took as an invitation. Wriggling, he banged Glenn’s leg with his stuffed hippo. “No Charlie!” he said crossly.
“Why can’t he be on here? He’s not hurting anything.” Lilah looked mutinous at this affront.
“Oh fine, let him.” He moved over and Charlie jumped up obligingly. He didn’t want an argument over whether the dog could sit on the couch.
“Lilah, put the phone down please.”
She clicked out from whatever site she was on with a barely suppressed sigh.
“All the way down, so it’s not in your hand.” He waited until she set it on the coffee table. “Thank you.”
“What? I did it.”
“And I’m saying thank you.”
She started an eye roll, then thought better of it. He knew she was just posturing, but it got under his skin. Too much girl drama. He let her sit and stew a minute.
“What did you want to talk about?” She’d lost the bravado and sounded like a kid.
A little anxious. Eight years since Sophie left and Lilah was still struggling.
Glenn didn’t give a rat’s ass about Sophie anymore, but it killed him the way Lilah still suffered.
No tears, at least not that he saw, just this vague resentment of him she wasn’t even aware of.
The parent who stayed. It had been so much easier when she was little and he could just swing her into his lap.
He took a breath. “I get that you don’t want to be treated like a little kid, but I’ve got to know where you are. That’s why I got you a phone.”
“It’s seventh grade, Dad. Everyone has a phone.”
“And you need to use it the way we talked about. When you get home I want to know. If you want to go to a friend’s, you need to ask.”
“Why don’t you just attach a leash to me like Charlie?”
“Dammit, Lilah, you’re twelve, not twenty!” His voice startled the dog, who gave him an anxious look. Glenn ran a hand across his beard, lowered his voice. “I love you, and I want to keep you safe. That’s all this is about.” He waited until she made eye contact. “All right?”
For a moment she looked like she might cry, which took him aback. Had he been that hard? He hadn’t meant to yell.
“All right,” she said.
He squeezed her shoulder. “Want a snack? I’m starved.”
She disentangled herself from the couch. “I could eat something.”