Free The Wedding Bees by Sarah-Kate Lynch

indisputable magic.
    The sun was coming up, casting its cotton candy colors on the skyline; the early-morning shadows fell across the surrounding rooftops like Dr. Seuss fingers on crooked piano keys.
    She stood there for a while, breathing in the city, the baking, the good fortune of finding herself in such a delicious moment.
    She could see someone behind 5A’s curtains moving around the tiny apartment.
    She slipped out onto the terrace, whispered a quick good morning to her bees, and faced the windows.
    â€œSugar Wallace from 5B right next door speaking,” she said. “I’ve invited everyone else in the building for brunch and I just wanted to make sure you got the note I put under your door.”
    The figure stopped moving and sniffed loudly.
    â€œI completely understand if you would rather keep to yourself but there is a small matter I need to discuss with you personally if you would be so kind.”
    The figure moved closer and sniffed again.
    â€œThe thing is, I need to introduce my bees; it’s the polite thing to do, because they’re living even closer to you than I am.”
    Sniff.
    â€œThis is my queen, Elizabeth the Sixth, and her subjects. There aren’t too many of them just yet but she’s building up her numbers and I’d like to move the hive a little closer to your window boxes if that’s OK.”
    Sniff.
    â€œWould you like a handkerchief? I have a whole drawer full of them inside.”
    The figure moved again, then the curtain drew back just enough for an arm to emerge, bearing a basket full of pastries.
    â€œFor me?” Sugar said. “Oh, you shouldn’t have!” She took the basket and grasped the hand that had held it before it could be drawn back.
    It was a solid young man’s hand. A worker, she thought, possibly redheaded.
    â€œA pleasure to meet you, Mr. . . . ?”
    â€œNate,” he said, sniffing again. “Just Nate.”
    He pulled back his arm and let the curtain fall.
    â€œThe bees are fine,” he said from behind it. “I like bees.”
    â€œAnd brunch?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œNo you don’t like it or no to the invitation?”
    â€œI like it but no.”
    Not so much iffy as just plain shy, Sugar thought. She could deal with shy. “Well, you just sit tight,” she said. “You should be able to hear everything from right there anyway.”
    She was not sure who, if any, of the other neighbors would show up although she had slipped invitations under each of their doors the previous evening, promising food and goodie bags to take home. “Everyone likes a goodie bag,” she told her bees.
    Mrs. Keschl, as it turned out, was particularly fond of them. She arrived an hour early.
    â€œI don’t want that old fink McNally making off with more than his fair share,” she said, pushing past Sugar and looking around the apartment. “Plus I like to make sure the facilities are properly cleaned. Hospital corners on the bed. Good to see.”
    â€œWould you like coffee or tea?” Sugar asked.
    â€œI suppose. So you like this color orange?”
    â€œI do like this color orange, as it happens, although I’m not sure I would have chosen it myself. It strikes me every day as pleasantly surprising, I guess is how I would put it.”
    â€œOh, you’re one of those,” said Mrs. Keschl, fixing her with a beady eye.
    â€œOne of what?”
    â€œOne of those glass-half-full types. I’ve met people like you before and let me tell you this; surprising is just another word for shocking. You think I don’t do the crossword? And shocking is never good. That guy who moved you in, that your boyfriend?”
    â€œNo, I don’t have a boyfriend.”
    â€œGirlfriend?”
    â€œNo, I don’t have a girlfriend either. What about you?”
    â€œWhat about me what?”
    â€œDo you have a boyfriend? Or a