Holly Banks Full of Angst (Village of Primm, #1)(37)

She was so sweet, so warm, so—pie-like.

“This is Suong-Lu and Peyton,” Emily told Holly, pointing to the other mothers as they took turns nodding and smiling at Holly. Their eyes twinkled. Every last one of them exuded a wholesome glow. Emily finished, “And this is Jhone. Together, we’re the Pie Committee, delivering pies across town to promote the Village of Primm Cherry Festival on The Lawn. It’s this weekend in the town square between the two gazebos. Are you coming?”

“Oh, gosh, yes,” said Holly. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“The town runs the Cherry Festival, but the pie auction is a fund-raiser for the school.”

“Oh yes, I know all about it,” Holly assured them. Because Holly was informed, Holly was one of those moms who knew everything. (Not.) “I read about it in the back-to-school handbook,” she told them.

“Really?” Emily tipped her head to the side. “That’s odd.”

Spit cakes. I’m busted.

“I didn’t know it was in the handbook.” Emily checked with the Pie Committee. Suong-Lu shrugged her shoulders.

“Oh, gosh, yes. Page . . . twelve,” Holly said. “Something. Maybe page sixteen. I can’t remember.” Now she was lying to Pie Moms. How have I stooped so low? Nowhere to hide, no way to escape, she felt fidgety, so she—quick!—tugged a few flyers from the bulletin board. Then—nope!—changed her mind and decided instead to slowly lower her body, until she was sitting once more on the bench.

“Page sixteen?” said Suong-Lu. “Are you sure?”

“Sure, I’m sure.” Holly doubled down. Because clearly, she had no conscience. “I read about it last night. During one of my highlighting sessions.” Highlighting sessions? “I always highlight school items in yellow. I mean—pink! And then I go back through with Sharpie markers to color-code items that need transferring to my calendar.” What am I saying? “And I love cherries,” Holly gushed. “And pies too. Pies are the best.” Holly assumed they were about to ask her to buy one. She’d be happy to buy one, but she’d probably throw it in the trash once she got home.

Holly crossed her legs, trying to act all prim and proper, which was ridiculous considering her attire on the first day of school. I’m hopeless. Poor Ella, she deserves so much better. She deserves a Pie Mom. Not a lowly Pink and Brown Piggy Mom like me.

“Would you like to be on our Pie Committee?” Emily asked.

“Me?” Holly stammered, nearly knocking the flyers from her lap. “Pies? Sure. I love pies.” Holly hated pies. Jack hated pies, and Holly was pretty sure Ella would hate pies, too, but she wouldn’t know because Ella had never eaten a pie.

“We’d love to have you. We’re running short on pies. Do you think you could bake one—or two pies, maybe?” Emily the Pie Mom grimaced. “We could use the help. Last year’s sale didn’t go as planned, and we have a lot of pressure on us this year. What do you say?”

Emily clasped her hands together, praying Holly would say yes, so hopeful in her pretty blue shirt, classic white pedal pushers, and brown leather sandals. Her look was clean, crisp, and casual.

Holly wished she could be like that. Polished. Confident, yet relaxed. With Old Glory hanging over her head, both literally and figuratively, Holly figured, what was more American than motherhood and apple—er, cherry pie?

“Sure,” Holly said. “I’ll do it. I’ll bake some pies.” I’ll do it for my country. What could possibly go wrong?

“That’s wonderful news!” Emily clapped. “Thank you so much. How many can you make? Can you make two? Or maybe three?”

“How about six? Make it a half dozen.” Holly wanted to make her mark, stand out.

“Six? Wow. That’s great. Six is great. Thank you.” Emily swooned.

“You know what? Since it’s a benefit for the school, make it a dozen. Better yet, make it a baker’s dozen. Thirteen. The world needs more pies.” Holly collected the flyers from her lap, tapping them into a tidy, orderly little pile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get these posted to the bulletin board, or I’ll be late for the gym.” Holly pretended she was the steward of the volunteer bulletin board. Like she was Bulletin Board Mom, hoping her piggies would pass as yoga pants.

Emily handed Holly a Pie Committee sign-up sheet and a pen.

What’s with all the sign-up sheets at Primm? Are they contracts? Legally binding?

Under the appropriate columns, Holly scribbled her name and the number thirteen, then told her new friends from the lovely Pie Committee, “One person tries to do everything—no, wait. Um. One person can’t do anything—no, that’s not right.” Holly copped a glance at the sun’s paper rays cascading across the bulletin board. “No one can do everything,” she announced. “But it never hurts to try!”

“We’re meeting later this week at the North Gazebo to go over last-minute details before the big event. Can you come?” Emily asked, all hopeful and wide eyed.

“Oh, sure.” Holly waved. “Happy to come. I love meetings.”

It’s easy to volunteer. You’re not doing anything the moment you sign up except, well, signing up. That was the easy part, and Holly suspected that was the part that got moms into trouble. One minute you were signing up; the next, you were wondering why you signed up.