Holly Banks Full of Angst (Village of Primm, #1)(106)

“Rosie works at Ella’s school,” Holly told Caleb, thinking he might be too young for Rosie. “Don’t you, Rosie?”

Rosie was wearing her pink freshwater pearls, a truly exquisite necklace. “Rosie,” said Holly, “Caleb is a documentary filmmaker.”

“Really?” Rosie took a step closer.

Holly could smell her perfume and assumed Caleb could too. Gardenia.

“You’re a filmmaker?” Rosie tipped her head and smiled a flirty smile. “That’s so interesting.”

“If you’ll both excuse me,” Holly said, “I need to check on some pies.”

She left so she could swing by the pie auction, surprised to find her pies were actually selling. They weren’t earning top dollar like some of Emily’s pies, but they were selling. To Holly’s relief, so far, no one had accused her of entering Southern Lakes pies into a Village of Primm pie auction, and Holly wasn’t about to tell anyone her secret. Emily had wanted pies to sell. Emily got pies. Thirteen of them plus fourteen more in a trash can on Petunia. Holly was a card-carrying volunteer school mom now. Even had the certificate to prove it.

Emily was helping a man with a pie purchase. She spotted Holly watching from afar and lifted her hand to wave. Holly smiled and waved back. So what if Holly had baked pies almost as bad as Mary-Margaret’s peckled peanut butter cookies? She came through in the end. She volunteered, and by golly, she finished the job. Hoped it was good enough. If it wasn’t, oh well. At least she tried.

A buzzing sound overhead drew Holly’s attention to the Twitter-blue sky, where an old-timey airplane flew over the Cherry Festival, pulling a long lettered sign behind it:


COMING SOON: TOPIARY PARK HOSTS FIRST ANNUAL SCRABBLE TOURNAMENT.

Scrabble? Since Holly was a little girl, she had loved Scrabble. From the moment her mom taught her about anagrams. That great was an anagram for Greta.

“And Vogel is German for bird,” whispered Holly.

Of all the birds Holly had met during her short time in Primm—Plume, now in ashes; Mary-Margaret, rising like the phoenix—all this time, the greatest of birds was Greta. The signs were there all along. Holly just hadn’t seen them.

God willing, Jack would keep his job, and Holly would have more adventures in the Village of Primm, more time to figure out if the Wilhelm Klaus Film Festival was indeed something she’d submit to, because despite what she had just said to Caleb, as far as Holly was concerned, the verdict was still out. A lot had happened in the past week. Like standing at the end of a novel, thumbing back to an earlier chapter, Holly’d have to look back to decide how it all shook out. Read it again. Uncover clues missed in the first reading. She shielded sunlight from her eyes with her hand, noticing the fluffy white contrails from the plane. They looked like dash marks. If they were set into dialogue, what would they say?



Holly set off for the live petting zoo, where Ella, Jack, and Greta were waiting. Primm Paper had a yellow-and-white-striped lemonade stand at the festival. Katie was handing out small decorative bags with the Primm Paper signature bee printed on them. Inside the bags were chocolate-covered cherries. They were so delicious, and as Holly licked her fingers, wondering if it was impolite to ask for a second bag, she spotted a display outside of the Drunken Plaid Gift Shoppe. A whole table filled with cute things Holly could put on her front porch. She walked over to have a look and, lo and behold, found everything Pinterest Collette had once had on her porch on Petunia Lane. Bingo! Collette must have shopped here. All this time, Holly had thought Collette possessed a secret knowledge hidden to Holly.

Walking among the merchandise, Holly decided she’d pick up a large swirly letter B, a gorgeous silk ribbon, and a hook to hang the ribbon and letter across her front door. She bent down to search through Drunken Plaid’s collection of rubber rain boots. Maybe she’d even buy a bouquet of white flowers from the florist to tuck into the rain boots. They had a great selection of welcome mats too. Holly decided that was the place she’d start. She’d pick up a welcome mat for the porch she’d fallen in love with on Petunia Lane.

“Hip! Hip!”

Holly’s back bristled. No, please. Not her. After reading Penelope’s Enclave Alert, Holly suspected Mary-Margaret had cut ties with her husband to distance herself from scandal. “Hello, Mary-Margaret,” Holly said.

“Shopping for porch decor?”

“Yup.”

“Can I help?”

“Nope.”

Mary-Margaret pouted, reaching out to fondle a mailbox flag. “Let Mary-Margaret help you.”

“Nope. Don’t need your help.”

“I’m sorry how things turned out between us.”

“No, you’re not.” Holly folded her arms across her chest. She thinks she’s a phoenix? Thinks she’ll rise again? That meant nothing would ever change.

“What kind of look are you going for?” Mary-Margaret wanted to know. “Enclaves and porches are celebrated destinations in the Village of Primm.”

Apparently, so are mudrooms. But then, Holly wasn’t going to mention Mary-Margaret’s indiscretion unless Mary-Margaret mentioned hers. So Holly ignored her. Focused on buying things for her porch. Holly’s place of welcome to create. Not Mary-Margaret’s.

“Well?” Mary-Margaret asked. “Are you going traditional? Contemporary? Or cute?”