Chapter 13 - THE HONEY HOUSE
One year after the fire, my farmhouse was rebuilt.
The porch looked almost exactly as it had before.
The kitchen was yellow.
My mother's roses grew beside the steps.
And the surviving beehives stood in neat rows behind the barn.
I opened a small shop beside the farmhouse.
I called it The Honey House.
We sold wildflower honey.
Clover honey.
Beeswax candles.
Handmade soaps.
And jars with little handwritten labels.
On opening morning, I stood behind the counter wearing muddy boots.
Just like the day Dante first found me.
At 6:17 a.m., a black sedan pulled into the parking lot.
I laughed.
“You're kidding.”
Dante stepped out.
Marco followed.
Dante approached the counter.
“Good morning.”
I folded my arms.
“How much honey are you planning to buy?”
“All of it.”
“No.”
He smiled.
“Eight jars?”
“Two.”
“Four?”
“Three.”
“Deal.”
I placed three jars in a paper bag.
“Eighteen dollars.”
Dante handed me a twenty.
I stared at him.
He sighed.
Then counted out exact change.
Marco burst out laughing.
I smiled.
“Personal growth.”
Dante leaned across the counter.
“You're impossible.”
“And yet you keep coming back.”
His expression softened.
“Every morning I can.”
He kissed my forehead.
May you like
And for the first time, the little shop felt like the beginning of something bigger than survival.
It felt like home.
