Holly Banks Full of Angst (Village of Primm, #1)(2)

“Quick!” Holly fluttered her hands at Ella. “What should I do?”

“Answer it!” Ella pointed.

“Right! Good call.” Holly leaped over Jack’s suitcase, toppling a lamp on the other side. Struggle was hot on her trail as Holly shuffled toward the door, sliding a rubber band from her wrist to collect her hair into a ponytail. Holly stopped short, grabbing hold of the doorknob as the doorbell rang again, trying to kick free from a hunk of packing tape that was stuck to her ankle. “Ella, call Struggle.”

“Come ’ere, Struggle!” Ella was bent at the waist, leaning into a newly opened moving box, tossing everything she could onto the family room floor. Lampshade. Decorative candles. Some random toys thrown in. Ella could tip at any moment and disappear completely into the box, so Holly wasn’t surprised when Struggle took one sidelong glance at her and then ran back to the family room to bark at the box that was about to swallow Ella.

Holly swung open the front door and found Penelope Pratt in all her majesty, standing with an outstretched hand.

“Holly Banks!”

Penelope’s grip was firm; her shake, determined. Penelope was the Feathered Nest real estate agent who’d sold Holly the house she’d lived in for three days and was now hankering to unpack.

“How are you, Penelope?” Holly stepped over the threshold, joining Penelope on the porch. “I’d invite you inside, but it’s a mess in there. I’m still in boxes.”

“This is a quick visit, Holly. I’m here to welcome you to Primm.”

Oh?

“Welcome to Primm!” Penelope beamed.

“Welcome to my porch!” Did Penelope notice her porch was completely naked, stripped bare of the beautiful items the previous homeowner, Collette, had so carefully selected to welcome her guests? “I wish I could offer you a place to sit, but Collette took that gorgeous bench with her.”

Collette had a zillion followers on Pinterest and had used this home to build her online platform as a staging and crafts expert before selling it to Holly and her husband, Jack. Collette had moved her family to a bigger home on Dillydally to start all over again, decorating nooks and crannies until they were Pinterestworthy and ready to be uploaded to Instagram. No Collette at this address meant no more painted wooden bench with two overstuffed pillows, one embroidered with the number 12, the words Petunia Lane on the other. No more fragrant flowers in Smith & Hawken baskets hanging from the porch rafters. No flag flapping in the breeze.

“How is Collette?” Not that Holly knew her beyond the sale of this house. Holly didn’t know anyone in the Village of Primm except Penelope. “Is she settling in?”

“Completely unpacked. I was just there,” Penelope told Holly. “She hosted a tea for a few of the women in my office as a thank-you for some staging projects we’ve given her. So adorable. She used Bubble Wrap as a tablecloth and served minicakes iced like brown moving boxes stacked on top of each other. Hanging from the backs of our chairs were framed cardboard squares with the words Fragile and This End Up printed on them.” Penelope pulled out her phone and, with a perfectly manicured nail, tapped the Pinterest app and scrolled a moment. “Look.” She showed Holly her screen. “She uploaded photos of the decorated table before we arrived so we could pin and like before the first bit of tea was poured. Bubble Wrap as a tablecloth!” Penelope gave a wistful smile. “That Collette. She’s amazing.”

“She accomplished all this in three short days?” Holly reached for the phone, clicked to view Collette’s There’s No Place Like Home Pinterest board. “I’m stunned.” Utterly stunned. And a bit miffed too.

Holly wondered if it was sad for Collette to pack up her front-porch welcome items and say goodbye to Petunia Lane. From the moment Holly had first seen this porch, she’d wanted to grow old on it, drink sweet tea while leaning back into one of those overstuffed, embroidered pillows. Collette was a tough act to follow. Her porch decor sent clear messages: Welcome to Primm and Welcome to Petunia Lane. More importantly, it said: Welcome Home. Welcome to the kind of home you want to create for your family. Collette’s front porch had convinced Holly to buy the house attached to it before she’d even stepped foot inside the front door. That was the power of a porch that presented a proper welcome.

“You’re really going to love living here, Holly.” Penelope rested her dainty little hand on Holly’s arm. “The Village of Primm is a lovely place. Petunia Lane’s a charming enclave, and little Ella will love, love, love attending kindergarten at Primm Academy.”

Holly hoped so. She and Jack could lose their shirts paying for this picture-perfect suburb.

Holly eyed Penelope. Always so put together. She wore a butter-yellow pantsuit, a striking combination with her coal-black hair, which was pulled into a loose but stylish bun at the nape of her neck. She looked a bit like a honeybee—the Primm Academy school mascot. From her shoulder hung an oversize leather tote bag the color of a caramel latte. The tote’s leather was thick and sturdy. It had white edge stitching so tailored and precise Holly was sure this minute piece of detailing was what catapulted the tote to “it bag” status. The tote was gorgeous. Accomplished. A neutral, yes, but a confident neutral. If Holly were a tote bag, she’d want to be that tote bag.

From the tote, Penelope pulled a giant cellophane gift bag, tied with a wide silk ribbon and filled with what appeared to be coupons and store flyers. Wait. Coupons?