Holly Banks Full of Angst (Village of Primm, #1)(103)

“It was an accident.”

“Yes, of course.”

Holly felt horrible. I spread devastation across the Village of Primm. And Southern Lakes. This can’t be! “I know I’ve been a bit noncommittal,” Holly said, “but I’m ready to commit. I owe everything to the Village of Primm. Mary-Margaret?”

“Yes?”

“I’m ready to serve. I’m ready to officially join the Primm Academy PTA.” She placed her right hand over her heart and pledged, “I, Holly Banks, will be your secretary.”

“I know.”

I know? How’d she know?

So what now? What’s next? wondered Holly. Did all roads lead to this? To this moment? Now they both harbored a secret about the other. Do I out Mary-Margaret to the authorities for wanting a mudroom paid for with dirty money? Does Mary-Margaret out me for driving a smelly red Buick? Or do we both zip it and serve out our penance working tirelessly on behalf of the Village of Primm and its inhabitants? As far as Holly could tell, the only other option? Banishment.

“Thank you, Holly.” Mary-Margaret opened the back door of her platinum-gray Lexus, placing her cherry pie on the back seat. “For what you said a moment ago in front of your husband. And for what you didn’t say.”

So there it was. Both guilty. Both with information that would damage the other. Their only way forward—was silence.

Mary-Margaret’s words left Holly speechless.

Poof!





42


Hours later



They were killing Plume tonight.

Lighting torches. Setting her on fire.

Any remaining topiaries in Primm had been summoned to the bonfire. By morning, there would be nothing left. All the topiaries in the Village of Primm would be dead. None would be saved.

Holly placed Anna Wintour beneath Plume. She considered digging around in Anna’s soil to retrieve Ella’s tooth but in the end decided against it.

Holly and Jack stood back from the fires as one by one, every animal in the Topiary Park Petting Zoo was doused with gasoline and set on fire. The air—orange. Crackling. Hot. Smoke and heat that burned her nose. Dads silent. Children crying. Mothers covering their mouths in sad disbelief, unable to take their eyes off the glowing inferno. A town paying quiet homage.

Smaller fires burned throughout the park, throughout the enclaves, throughout the great land of Primm. But the view from where Holly stood—watching Anna, watching Plume, with Mary-Margaret on a hill not far away—was of the brightest fire in the night sky, which raged long into the night: the burning of the town mascot, the idol they all worshipped, the goddess that dared them all to believe. In a village bewitched with many magnificent peahens, the grand cru of all peahens—Plume, the peahen with whom all things rested—was dying a slow and painful death. The burning at the stake continued long into the night. By morning, the Village of Primm peahen—dead.

Rest in peace, Plume.

Rest in peace, Anna Wintour.

Rest in peace, Mary-Margaret St. James.

And let us not forget: rest in peace, Holly Banks.

KABOOM!

Penelope Pratt

Feathered Nest Realty —ENCLAVE ALERTS—

I know it’s late, but this just in:

My cousin, Mary-Margaret St. James, President of the Primm Academy PTA, philanthropist, prominent member of both the Primm and the Magnolia Societies, publisher of the Proper Tip Sheet, and long-standing resident of Hopscotch Hill, announces the sale of someone-she-is-no-longer-speaking-to’s entire music collection, valued in the low seven figures. Effective immediately.

Proceeds benefit the rebuilding of the Topiary Park and the birth of a new Plume.

It is with a heavy heart that Mary-Margaret also announces her immediate separation and pending divorce from that-person-who-is-now-living-in-a-cut-rate-motel-in-Southern-Lakes.

In consideration of recent events concerning our beloved Plume, Mary-Margaret St. James will also donate thirteen high-value albums by Swedish pop group ABBA for use as Frisbees in the next Great F.U.—the F.U. Frisbee Tournament at tomorrow’s Cherry Festival on The Lawn. Though Mary-Margaret prefers clear blue, the F.U. may take place beneath ashen sky. It is her prayer that prevailing winds blow Plume’s plume of soot toward Southern Lakes and away from the skies above Primm.

Text “INNOCENT” to read Mary-Margaret’s press release and Statement of Truth.

Text “GUILTY” to read about that hemorrhoid-of-a-man-she-used-to-be-associated-with-but-isn’t-anymore.

I, Penelope Pratt, leave you with a direct quote from my cousin, Mary-Margaret St. James:

“Plume will live forever in our hearts, and I, Mary-Margaret St. James, at one with the phoenix, will take flight from the ashes, and rise again.”

I, Penelope Pratt, #1 in Sales at Feathered Nest Realty, leave homeowners in the Village of Primm with this thought: if Mary-Margaret’s attempt to rise like the phoenix fails, if she, indeed, flutters about but can’t take flight, she intends to sell her home on Hopscotch Hill and move to Southern Lakes, where she will work tirelessly to elevate the status of their school and town beyond that of Primm. Should this occur, brace for declining property values. Should this occur, the Primm Academy PTA will need a new president—preferably someone already on the executive board—ready to work and, hopefully, undaunted by increased competition from our neighbors beyond the fence. Competition, the likes of which we’ve never seen.