Holly Banks Full of Angst (Village of Primm, #1)(50)

So Holly stalled, knowing full well her stalling would give Ella a few moments to comfort herself, and then Holly’d insist she take her thumb out of her mouth because then Holly’d know she was a “good” mom. Because, hey: I’m consistent! I make my daughter face her fears without the use of an emotional crutch. And besides, if your own mother didn’t give you a moment of grace when you were so distraught you were sucking your thumb, who on earth would?

“Tell me about your day, Ella.” Holly paused, listening to Ella suck. “What happened?”

Like mother like child, Ella paused, too, resting her head against Holly’s shoulder. Eventually, Ella slid her thumb out of her mouth, pulling it out so fast it made a wet, sloppy sound. Ella pulled back from Holly until they were arm’s distance apart, took a deep breath—and then let Holly have it.

“Ainsley’s-backpack-was-on-my-hook-so-mine-was-on-the-floor-but-it-can’t-be-on-the-floor-or-someone-will-trip-but-I-didn’t-make-anyone-trip-they-just-tripped-by-themselfs-but-my-teacher-said-mine-needed-to-be-on-a-hook-but-I-couldn’t-hook-it-because-Ainsley-hooked-it-and-I-don’t-have-a-mat-to-sleep-on-and-the-purple-broke-and-I-didn’t-have-a-lunch-and-I-don’t-like-center-time-and-I-was-thirrrrrsty-but-didn’t-have-a-water-bottle-because-you-didn’t-pack-me-a-lunch.”

Holly combed Ella’s hair with her fingers. “Tomorrow will be better, and every day will get easier and easier . . .”

“When-the-purple-broke-I-couldn’t-finish-the-balloon-so-the-number-six-doesn’t-have-one-and-I-couldn’t-finish-so-I-put-it-in-the-‘finish’-cubby-but-it-wasn’t-‘finished’-it-was-‘worked-on’-so-that’s-not-‘finished’-that’s-called-‘worked-on’-but-I-couldn’t-finish-because-of-the-purple.” Ella came up for air. “And the six. So I need a new purple or I’ll never finish.”

“I’ll get you a new purple, sweetie. What’s a purple? Is it a crayon?”

“It’s broken!”

“Okay, okay. It’s broken. But maybe we can fix it. Is it a crayon?”

“I wanna go home.” Ella put her thumb into her mouth, falling back into Holly’s arms, burying her face deep into Holly’s chest.

“I know, baby girl. I know.” It was close to dismissal time. Soon, the entryway would fill with people. “Let’s get you signed out, Ella. You’ll feel better tomorrow. Tomorrow, we’ll both try this again.”

Freshwater Pearls walked with them into the office. Pearls, now somewhat cordial, counted Holly’s bills, tucking them into the petty cash box behind the counter to settle Ella’s lunch and Holly’s cookie bill. Pearls, of course, had a real name. It was Rosie McClure.

Holly didn’t have a nickname growing up. She was simply Holly. Wait, that was not entirely true. Her parents sometimes called her Holly Tree. “Holly Tree? You finished your homework?” Now with screen names, usernames, profile names, avatars, gravatars, Holly became [email protected] or HBanks or HollyB. Holly chose @EndofRope as her Twitter handle because, well . . . she never wanted to be on Twitter in the first place, but her mom pressured her to open an account. A good Twitter handle for Jack? @WorkHusband or @lunch @Wendys @BethannysTable. @sshole.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Holly said to Rosie. “For signing for your map. You were looking forward to seeing him.”

Rosie shrugged.

“You like him, don’t you?” Holly asked.

Rosie didn’t make eye contact.

Holly handed Ella an organic, sugar-free lollipop from the glass jar on Rosie’s counter. “I can understand why you would like him,” Holly offered. “He’s very cute.”

Rosie looked to be about Holly’s age. She must be single, and apparently not happy about it.

“Can we start over?” Holly pushed her hand across the counter, hoping to shake Rosie’s. “I’m Holly. Holly Banks.”

Rolling onto her tippy-toes, Ella slapped her little hand onto the counter too. “And I’m Ella. Ella Banks.”

Rosie warmed a bit and smiled. “I know who you are, Ella.” Rosie shook Ella’s hand. “Nice to make your acquaintance again, Ella.”

Rosie paid no attention to Holly—to Holly’s hand, stretched across the counter—which was unfortunate because this was a big moment for Holly. Holly’s mom would never do this. Greta would never reach across a counter to call a truce with a woman perceived to have more power.

“How was your day, Ella, Ella Banks?” Rosie asked, a delicate lilt in her voice. “You’re in Miss Bently’s class, aren’t you? Miss Bently is lovely. She’s new here, too, but she’s already one of my closest friends. Did you finish your lunch?”

“Yes.”

“Did you eat the apple I gave you?” Rosie leaned over the counter, still holding Ella’s hand. Rosie appeared to have a natural rapport with children and seemed especially keen on Ella. Must be Ella’s big brown eyes, cute little nose, and soft, sweet cheeks, thought Holly.

“Miss Rosie, do you like My Little Pony?” Ella’s inquiry came with the tip of her head as she scratched her nose with her free hand.

“Oh yes, very much,” Rosie said. “I like Princess Celestia. Coruler of Equestria!”