The Beekeeper's Ball: Bella Vista Chronicles Book 2 by Susan Wiggs Read Free Book Online Page A

you. This has been a labor of love, for sure.”
    “What’s up those stairs?”
    “Third floor. My room, a few more guest rooms....”
    Leaning on the hand rail, he went up the stairs. Isabel told herself to get used to this. Grandfather had invited the guy to explore their lives, and she supposed that meant he would be poking around every room of the house.
    She showed him the guest rooms on the third floor, including the suite where Erik and Francesca had lived after they married. Though currently unfinished, this was going to become the honeymoon suite, romantic and private, appointed with luxurious fabrics and a special dressing room for the bride.
    “And this,” she said, opening a door to a small sunroom, “was my grandmother’s domain. It hasn’t been refurbished yet, either. I’m not sure what to do with it.” Although Bubbie had been gone for ten years, her presence could still be felt in the closed-off room. Her sewing machine stood in the corner, still threaded, the needle raised as if awaiting orders. Under the long bank of windows was a faded daybed where Bubbie had lived the final days of her illness. She had spent time doing the things that mattered to her—simple things—visiting with family and friends, writing letters, gazing out at the beautiful view, enjoying a cup of tea with a buttery cookie, reassuring Isabel and Magnus of her love.
    But Bubbie had never divulged the biggest secret of her life.
    Regarding the sunroom, Isabel felt a surge of inspiration. “I’d love to turn this space into something Bubbie would appreciate,” she said.
    “Need any suggestions?”
    Not from you, she thought. “I’d love it to be a place of dreams, somewhere to sit and think.”
    “Thinking gives me a headache.”
    She gestured at the row of windows. “You’d probably like a universal gym and giant speakers blaring heavy metal music.”
    “Hey, thanks for reducing me to a cliché. Actually, I was going to suggest yoga mats and gong music.”
    The suggestion surprised Isabel. She could instantly picture a yoga retreat here. Maybe having Cormac O’Neill poking around and commenting on everything might turn out to be the start of something good.
    Yet the thought of a stranger covered in beestings, staying in the house, swearing like a reject from a busy restaurant kitchen, was unsettling.
    “Shit, oh, man.” As if he’d read her thoughts, he staggered and grabbed the doorknob.
    “What’s the matter?” She clutched at his arm. “Are you all right?”
    “Yeah, sorry, I’ll be okay. Post Adrenalin letdown,” he said. “Feels like vertigo.”
    “What can I do?”
    “Maybe a rest and a shower.”
    She escorted him back to Erik’s room. “All right,” she said, feeling flustered again, “you should find everything you need here.”
    He paused, studying her. “I already have.”
    * * *
    Cormac O’Neill had been to a lot of places in his life, too many to count. But as he stood at the window of his room at Bella Vista, he couldn’t recall a place that rivaled the beauty of the Sonoma hacienda. Looking out at the orchards and fields, he felt a million miles away from the war-torn places of the world, the airports and grimy cities, the long barren stretches of scorched earth in the foreign lands he’d visited. During his career, he had lived in mud huts and tents, in hovels and out in the open, being eaten alive by bugs or shivering in an unheated room. He could do worse than a luxurious villa in Archangel, that was for sure.
    Staggering off an overseas flight at SFO this morning, he’d borrowed a buddy’s Jeep, gulped a double shot of espresso and had driven straight from San Francisco to Archangel, hoping to relax and sleep off the jet lag. Instead, he’d encountered the skittish and suspicious Isabel, who had kneed him in the groin. Next came the swarm of bees and the trip to the urgent care place. He wondered what the next disaster would be.
    When Tess had told him about the book