If Not For A Bee. Carol Ross

raised together.”

      She looked at Laurel and silently willed her not to push the subject. But this was Laurel—Rankins’s very own Lois Lane. Laurel would never pass up the opportunity for a story and Janie felt certain Laurel would never understand how Janie could.

      “I see... But not liking someone doesn’t necessarily disqualify you from interviewing them. Reporters interview people they don’t like all the time.”

      “I know, and it’s not that necessarily,” she lied. “I’d just prefer not to do this one. It’s an important article and I feel like I would need to give it all my attention, but I’ve got so much on my plate right now...” They both knew very well that Janie always had an overflowing plate, so this wasn’t much of a stretch. Janie had never used her crazy, single-mom schedule as an excuse to get out of an assignment, but she shamelessly found herself doing so now. “Reagan has his science project coming up, Gareth is playing club basketball and now with this knitting class...”

      Laurel eyed her carefully. “You’re sure about this?”

      “I am. I understand what an opportunity this would be, Laurel. And I really appreciate you offering it to me.”

      Laurel looked surprised, and slightly suspicious. And Janie really couldn’t blame her, it would seem odd to her, too, if she was in Laurel’s place.

      She added another layer to her excuse. “Tag flew to Anchorage yesterday and he was going to pick up some things Reagan needs for his science project—he had a Barbie doll on the list. The informational meeting is this week to go over the rules for the national program the science club is participating in this year. I can’t wait to see what he has planned.”

      Laurel laughed and Janie was relieved when she allowed the subject to change. “A Barbie, huh? At least it’s not battery acid. I thought Principal Dundee was going to call the cops last year when he saw those bones in the bottom of that bucket.”

      Janie grinned and shook her head. “I know.”

      Last year Reagan’s experiment had tested the corrosive properties of different types of acids. The high point had involved actual moose skeletons, which his Uncle Bering had procured for him. A series of large, high-resolution photos showed how Reagan had managed to melt the bones down until they fit into a five-gallon bucket, the contents of which he’d proudly displayed in his booth—along with another bleached moose skeleton of similar original dimensions that he’d arranged on a table for size comparison. The line to get a glimpse had formed all the way out the door and around the side of the VFW hall.

      “That kid...” Laurel chuckled. “What did he think of Aidan? I know how excited he was to meet a real-life scientist.”

      “Already thick as thieves. Reagan is ecstatic to have him here.” Something made her add, “He was actually pretty nice to Gareth, too.”

      Laurel tapped her fingertips together thoughtfully. “Well, that says something about the guy, right? That he was a hit with your boys?”

      “Yeah, I suppose,” Janie said, acquiescing. She thought about how he’d gotten the ball to Gareth so he could score the winning basket. He didn’t have to do that, and yet she’d also heard what she’d heard. And he never did apologize for ruining the cake...

      Laurel sat frozen in her thoughtful-reporter pose, palms together, fingers tilted in Janie’s direction.

      Janie racked her brain for something that might derail Laurel’s train of thought.

      “I’m meeting Shay at the bakery later to sample wedding cake...”

      * * *

      ONE PROBLEM SOLVED, Aidan thought as he directed Bering, Tag, Gareth and Reagan as to where to put the boxes. The plane had arrived at seven as scheduled, and the entire shipment fit in the back of one of Bering’s full-size pickups. By nine thirty they were unloading the boxes and stacking them in Aidan’s rented building. Emily had found the vacant building on the edge of downtown before he’d arrived and Aidan could not be happier with her choice. His sister was truly a wonder of efficiency.

      The brick structure consisted of one large, rectangular-shaped room with worn hardwood floors, and a kitchen area was situated along the far wall complete with a small refrigerator. There was a bathroom on one side of the room adjacent to a walk-in storage area with floor-to-ceiling shelves. Lucky for him, Rankins had no restrictions on what the space could be used for—yet another reason to like this little town, because he intended to both live and work in the space.

      Aidan already had a cot set up in one corner of the room to sleep on. He’d purchased it, along with a sleeping bag, for a surprisingly reasonable price at Bradbury’s, the hardware/sporting-goods store that was also a computer repair shop that Bering had recommended in town. Aidan had mentioned Bering’s name while shopping and he suspected it had helped in determining the final discounted sale amount.

      Somewhere during the building’s history a second sink had been installed along the wall opposite the bathroom. With the addition of a few tables and some lighting, that area would serve as his lab. Emily had already found him a desk for his computer and a comfy secondhand office chair. She and Bering had recently bought new furniture so Bering had hauled over their two gently used recliners for him to use as well.

      Aidan opened a carefully packed crate and found his favorite microscope intact. In another box he discovered that his video camera also looked fine. He plugged in the battery pack with the intention of testing the camera out later, but he realized he was going to need help setting up some of his equipment.

      Bering came through the door again, followed by Gareth and Reagan, each holding boxes that they added to the pile.

      “This is the last of them, Aidan.”

      “I can’t thank you guys enough. How about if I buy everyone breakfast at the Cozy Caribou?”

      That suggestion was met with enthusiastic agreement. Reagan walked over and inspected the microscope. “Wow, awesome microscope. What’s the magnification?”

      As Aidan discussed microscopes with Reagan something occurred to him. “Do you boys think you could spare a few more hours after breakfast? I could use some help getting unpacked.”

      “Yes,” Reagan said excitedly.

      “No, sorry, I can’t,” Gareth answered politely.

      Bering glanced down at the watch on his wrist. “Gareth is playing basketball. I’m supposed to drop him off in an hour. But Reagan can stay if he wants. Emily or I can swing by and pick him up this afternoon. I’ll call Janie and let her know. I’m sure she won’t mind.”

      Aidan wasn’t nearly as sure, but he was desperate enough for help that he put that thought aside. Surely the misunderstanding between him and Janie wouldn’t extend to her children.

      * * *

      THAT SAME AFTERNOON Aidan strolled down the main street in Rankins admiring some of the old buildings and the homey feel of the town. The sun had disappeared behind a patch of clouds, which seemed to instantly lower the temperature. The chilly air began creeping into his open jacket and he wondered how long it would take him to acclimate to the cooler weather. He reached for the zipper, felt his stitched-together fingers throb painfully and switched hands, reminding him again of his predicament—and a possible solution.

      Reagan had been a world of help to him, which had prompted him to ask if he’d like to assist him on a regular basis—at least until his hand healed.