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Summary
“What do you do with all the honey? It doesn’t look exactly like a farmer’s market down there?”
Azira laughs, not at Crowley. “Well, if you happen to have a property in the South Down at hand where I could set up a stand, I’d be the first to make you an offer.” She pops a piece of pastry into her mouth. “I give it away.”
Butch beekeeper Azira meets gardener Crowley over an order of three dozen lavender plants. Bees fly, and so do the sparks.
