Holly Banks Full of Angst (Village of Primm, #1)(104)
43
Saturday
The best thing that happened yesterday according to Holly? Baking fourteen pies with Greta, then tossing them all in the trash before driving to Southern Lakes to pick up thirteen more to deliver to the outstretched arms of Emily the Pie Mom. Emily smiled sweetly, even hugged Holly. Said the pie auction wouldn’t be possible were it not for the hard work and dedication of volunteers like her. When Emily handed Holly a gilded certificate acknowledging Holly as the top pie producer in Primm, Holly didn’t feel it was necessary to confess to not baking the pies she donated, having bought them from—of all places—Southern Lakes. What did it matter, these harmless sins of omission? Emily got her pies.
The worst thing that happened yesterday according to Holly? Watching the burning deaths of Plume and Anna Wintour, knowing Holly might have driven the vehicle that led to the widespread bug infestation across Primm. All of the topiary animals in the petting zoo, dead. Hundreds of family pet topiaries across all enclaves, dead. Peloton hit especially hard. Blythe a close second. Holly hadn’t told Jack about the trunk, the chilli thrips, or the invoice with the signature of Michael St. James. She didn’t know why she hadn’t told him, but she would—later today. And she would call the ferroequinologist to alert him to the infested Buick. Holly knew Jack didn’t receive Penelope’s Enclave Alerts. And as far as Holly could tell, Bethanny hadn’t called to inform Jack that something was fishy in the St. James household. Holly wondered what had gone on inside Mary-Margaret’s home on Hopscotch Hill last night. Wondered what the Pink Witch had said to My Love.
The best part about today according to Holly? It was Saturday, so there was no bus to catch. Toot! Toot! Sucka.
Despite the sadness that cast an ugly shadow across the village last night, today Mary-Margaret’s prayers must have been answered because the Village of Primm woke to a glorious day. Seventy-two degrees, and a sky that looked like Twitter: birds chirping, everything a brilliant shade of Crayola’s parakeet blue, with only the occasional drift of Plume’s gray smoke and ash. Who needed 140 characters—or 280 characters, for that matter? Holly could say it in twenty-eight: I LOVE THE VILLAGE OF PRIMM! And yes, Holly counted the spaces between words, especially around love. Spaces around love should be counted. As should the punctuation, when a sentence about love came to an exalted end.
Before heading to the Cherry Festival, Jack returned the smelly red Buick and picked up Holly’s Suburban while Greta and Holly drove Ella in Jack’s car to Southern Lakes to pick up Ella’s new glasses. The other day, Ella had chosen a pair of lavender glasses with a little bit of sparkle on the edges, and now that she was wearing them, she couldn’t look cuter. She even decided lavender was her new favorite color, and Holly was okay with that. So long as Ella never let another girl tell her there was a difference between lavender and lilac. Neither was superior. Both were purple.
Ella sat sideways on Holly’s lap when she was getting fitted for her glasses. Ella waved at Holly in the mirror and said, “I look like Twilight Sparkle.” Then she turned to wrap her arms around Holly’s neck and pulled up for a kiss. When Ella pulled back, she smiled up at Holly, and Holly could see the space where Ella’s tooth once was. It brought Holly back to that night in Ella’s bedroom when Holly had played tooth fairy for the first time and all her worries had crept in, feeling arcus-cloud and mustard undertones.
“You can be my Pinkie Pie, Mommy. I’ll be Twilight Sparkle for a little while.”
“Okay, Ella.” Holly kissed the tip of Ella’s nose. “I’ll be your Pinkie Pie.”
Ella turned back to look at her reflection in the mirror, and Holly held her place behind Ella in that reflection. Holly hoped when Ella was older and looked back at this time in her life, she’d see Holly and her best efforts through her Twilight Sparkle glasses, not Holly with her imperfections and blemishes through a pair of ginormous black poster-board glasses. Little Kids, Little Zoo.
“I can see everything now with perfect clear-ity,” Ella said, seeing the world for the first time through lavender-rimmed glasses. Ella pointed at Greta. “Grammy’s smile is pushing up her eye wrinkles.” Ella pointed to Holly’s face. “And you have a big black dot on your chin.”
“It’s a blackhead, Ella.” Holly gave her baby girl a hug. “It’s just a blemish. Happens sometimes.”
Holly felt Greta’s hand on her shoulder. All three shared the same mirror.
They met Jack on Petunia, then all piled into Holly’s Suburban to drive up the hill past the magnolia grove and out onto the main road on their way to the center of Primm. At a stoplight near the bus stop at Dillydally and Castle Drum Tower, where Holly had tried to board Ella onto Bus 13 on the first day of school, they rolled to a stop beside a G-Class Mercedes. The G-Class Mercedes. Jack stopped in such a way that it positioned him, as the driver of their car, in the blind spot of the man driving the G-Class. Jack kept his head straight, never looking at the G-Class driver, so as not to engage. “He wasn’t involved,” said Jack, as if reading Holly’s thoughts. “Just a man worried his vines would get eaten.”
“But the Stone House—”
“Let it go.”
Holly watched the steady expression on Jack’s face as the light turned green and the G-Class turned left as they continued straight. Was Jack lying? Was there more to learn about the job that had led their family to the Village of Primm?