Holly Banks Full of Angst (Village of Primm, #1)(108)

“Great!” said Holly. “Shanequa, this is my husband, Jack. My mom, Greta.”

The three exchanged greetings.

“Looks like the girls are becoming fast friends,” said Shanequa.

They all watched as Ella and Talia took off to play beneath the magnolia.

“Yes. I think that’s great,” said Holly. “I’m so glad to learn they’re in the same class. We should get them together for a playdate.”

Shanequa turned to face Holly, big smile on her face. “I’d like that.”

“Maybe Wednesday after school? You’re welcome to stay for coffee.”

“Wednesday works, yes. It’s a date,” said Shanequa.

“A playdate!” offered Holly, jovial smile, acting silly. Feeling silly. “We’re number twelve Petunia.”

“We’re on Dillydally. So I’ll see you then. Wednesday,” said Shanequa, offering her goodbyes to Jack and Greta before walking toward Talia and Ella playing beneath the magnolia tree.

Yes. I’ll see you then. Holly smiled.

“I don’t think I’ve seen Ella suck her thumb once today,” muttered Jack.

“Come to think of it, neither have I,” said Holly. “Mom? Have you?”

“No, I haven’t seen it either.”

So the no-bite nail polish worked? Could it be? The end of Ella’s thumb-sucking? Ella rounded the magnolia tree, tripped on a root, and came up crying. But she didn’t reach out for Holly like she typically would. Instead, she consoled herself with a few quick sucks of her thumb, then gave it up and got right back to playing with Talia. Oh, well. Can’t win ’em all.

Heading toward their car, Holly spotted a lonely-looking Mary-Margaret St. James sitting on the ground beside a wagon filled with ABBA albums. Holly left Jack, Ella, and Greta to walk over. “You okay, Mary-Margaret? Need anything?”

“Me? No, I’m okay. I don’t need anything.”

“It looks like you’re gearing up to play a concert.”

Mary-Margaret exhaled. “You might say that.” Beside her, next to the wagon filled with ABBA albums, was a turntable powered by a battery pack and a fairly large set of speakers.

“I’m sorry I ignored you. Earlier,” Holly said. “At the shop. That was mean. I’m not like that. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay. I deserved it.” Mary-Margaret kicked at the dirt. “Would you like to do the honors?” She handed Holly Arrival, ABBA’s fourth studio album. “Song number two.” A slow smile returned to Mary-Margaret’s face. “I think you’ll like it.”

Holly did as she was told, pulling the album from the cardboard sleeve, setting it on the turntable, lifting the needle, and placing it carefully at the start of the second song—essentially, the world’s first Europop disco hit: “Dancing Queen.”

As ABBA singers Anni-Frid Lyngstad and Agnetha F?ltskog layered their vocals, paying homage to discotheques and the euphoric, unbridled joy and freedom of dancing, Holly offered her hand to Mary-Margaret, helping her to her feet.

“Thanks.” Mary-Margaret smiled, a small wad of pink bubble gum tucked at the back of her teeth. She turned up the volume as F.U. Frisbee Moms across the Cherry Festival looked up, located the source of the music, then began to gather. “See you around?”

“Yes, of course,” Holly said, hoping the coming weeks and months would be kind to Mary-Margaret and My Love. “I’m looking forward to it. Lilac.” Because why not. Lilac was high end. Lilac was couture. Lavender gave Lilac her due.

Upon hearing that word, Mary-Margaret moved quickly to pull Holly into a warm embrace. “Thank you,” she said. “I really am Lilac.” Holly hoped she’d remember that should My Love ever cause her to question.

Holly left Mary-Margaret to join up with Jack, Ella, and Greta, stopping one last time to watch Mary-Margaret tend to family business: the throwing of My Love’s ABBA collection into the crowd of F.U. Frisbee Moms. Everyone seemed to be having a great time. Team Buttercream, the Pink Erasers . . .

“Hip! Hip!” Holly said quietly. Hoping the “hooray” would, in time, find its way back to Mary-Margaret’s heart.





44


On the way home



Holly and her family left the Cherry Festival and drove through Primm, arriving at their home on Petunia Lane a little past three o’clock. They all climbed out of the Suburban Godzilla, satisfied by the festival but a bit exhausted from a week of turmoil and change. Ella took her grammy’s hand, and the two of them dashed off down the sidewalk toward the house to do each other’s hair in Ella’s My Little Pony: Equestria Girls mirror, presumably while also admiring the cherries they had painted all over their faces.

Pulling her porch treasures from the back of her SUV, Holly stopped in the driveway to take in the beauty of their little cape on Petunia Lane. So what if it didn’t have any storage? It was their home, and Holly loved it.

“Holly?” Jack walked over. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just having a moment.”

“We don’t know if anything’s changed yet, Holly. I won’t know until next week.”

“I know.” Holly smiled. “It’s all good.”