The Beekeeper's Ball: Bella Vista Chronicles Book 2 Read Online Free PDF

when she was keeping herself busy with other things.
    Wash away, she told herself. Let’s just wash the day away and hit the reset button. She used soap made from Bella Vista honey and lavender, inhaling the scent of the luxurious foam and wishing she could just stand here all day. Not possible. There was too much to do. She was not going to let a stranger named Cormac O’Neill rearrange the day’s plans for her, even though he’d already set back her schedule by two hours.
    She dressed in a softly gathered skirt, sandals and a gauzy, loose-fitting blouse, light and comfortable in the warm weather. Her dark heavy curls—a legacy from the mother she’d never known—would dry in the sunshine today. Spring was in full bloom, and she had tons to do, starting with supervising the workers who were fixing a pergola over the new section of the patio, which had been expanded to make way for guests.
    With its central fountain, wrought iron chairs and café tables with cobalt-blue majolica tile, the open-air space would be a gathering place—first for Tess and Dominic’s wedding guests, and later, starting in the fall, for people who came to attend the cooking school. Isabel wanted it to be as beautiful and inviting as a vintage California hacienda, and she’d planned the project down to the last golden limestone paver.
    This had always been a private home, but this summer, it would be opened to the world. The estate had lain in slumber like an enchanted kingdom, and now it was finally waking up, opening its embrace to new energy. New life.
    Yet despite all the details that needed attending to, her mind kept flitting to Cormac O’Neill. She reminded herself that his business was with her grandfather, not her. A biography. Why hadn’t Grandfather told her about this?
    On her way down to the kitchen, she paused on the landing, which featured a wall-sized mirror. For some reason, she flashed on a bit from the article she’d seen in the waiting room— Wear something sexy. It just wasn’t her style. She favored clothes that were long, loose and drapey. Concealing. The most formfitting garment she owned was her chef’s apron. Sometimes she wished she had her sister’s natural eye for fashion, but when Isabel tried for that, she felt self-conscious, like a kid playing at dress up. She hadn’t even settled on her maid-of-honor dress.
    Tess was at the kitchen counter, gazing out the window and eating a wedge of bee sting cake, cream filled and glossy with a crust of honeyed almonds. “If you don’t quit feeding me like this,” Tess scolded, “I’m never going to fit into my wedding dress.”
    “That was for the workmen,” Isabel said. She’d quickly learned that construction guys needed baked goods to keep them at peak performance.
    Tess shook back her glossy red hair. She had been growing it long in order to wear it up on her wedding day. “Couldn’t resist. Sorry. So where have you been all morning?”
    “Dealing with your friend, Cormac O’Neill.”
    Tess brightened. “Oh! He’s here?”
    All glorious six-foot-something of him. “He got stung by bees and had an allergic reaction, so I took him to the clinic in town.”
    “Oh, my gosh. Is he—”
    “He’ll be fine. He says he’s here to work on Grandfather’s biography. Do you know anything about that?”
    “Sure.” Tess paged through her wedding notebook, which was stuffed with lists and clippings of flowers, food and decor.
    “Why didn’t you tell me about this project?” With a twinge of irritation, Isabel studied her sister. In one short year, they’d grown close, though at times there were moments of tension. Like now. In some areas, they were still finding their way.
    “We just got word yesterday that Mac’s available.”
    Mac. Like the truck.
    “I would have told you, but it’s been a whirlwind around here, and you’ve had enough on your plate, helping me with the wedding and getting the place ready for the cooking school. The plan came