Holly Banks Full of Angst (Village of Primm, #1)(69)

“You’re probably disrupting the status quo,” Caleb offered.

“Her name’s Mary-Margaret St. James. She is the status quo,” Holly grumbled. “And I assume she owns a television. You know her?”

“Mary-Margaret? Oh, sure. Everyone knows her. She’s related to Meek. He owns the cable company. They’ve lived on Hopscotch for what? Four, maybe five generations?”

“Well, I heard about Mary-Margaret before I even moved to the Village of Primm. Penelope Pratt told me about her.”

“They’re cousins.”

“I know. And there’s a chance I moved to Primm because of Mary-Margaret. I don’t know. Maybe it was the school. Definitely the school.” Holly gathered the collapsed pile of laundry, contemplating the idea she may have made a major housing purchase based solely on a rumor about a woman who did amazing things at a local school. “Do you know I almost bought a house in Southern Lakes?”

“Here we go.” He rolled his eyes.

“What.”

“All of the moms in the Village of Primm talk about Southern Lakes.”

“They do? Why?” Holly watched him fuss with her TV.

“Grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.”

“Maybe, but Southern Lakes has crabgrass,” Holly pointed out.

“How would you know?”

“Someone told me.”

“Well, then. Must be fact.” He tossed a wrench-looking-tool-thingy into his tool bag. “If you don’t mind my asking, if Primm is so great, why’s everyone looking over the fence?”

Holly didn’t have an answer. She wondered if anyone had an answer for that.

Caleb got back to work while Holly cleared a few dishes from an end table to set them in the kitchen sink. So far, Ella hadn’t spilled her juice glass once. Holly considered telling Caleb this, but she didn’t want him to know his sippy cup inquisition had gotten under her skin a few days ago. Since he was busy working, Holly sat down at the kitchen table to text Jack a burning question.



HOLLY: Hey. Sorry to text you during work. Gotta second?

JACK: I’m with Bethanny.

(Pause.)

JACK: I’m kidding! What’s up?

HOLLY: Who’s the third person? The client you’re investigating. You never told me.

JACK: You want me to text that?

HOLLY: Sure. Why not?

(Pause.)

HOLLY: Hello? You still there?

(Pause.)

HOLLY: Seriously, Jack? I’m sure your phone’s not tapped.

JACK: Okay, but you have to promise me you’ll delete this.

HOLLY: Of course.

JACK: Michael.

HOLLY: Last name?

JACK: St. James.



My Love? My Love? Holly didn’t know if she was surprised it was My Love, thrilled it was My Love, or sad it was My Love. Maybe she was all three. But wow. If My Love did something that causes him to go to jail—I mean, pris—I mean, if Michael St. James has to sit in a time-out chair, it will hit Mary-Margaret like a freight train. The reign of the Pink Witch in Primm would surely come to an end. Wouldn’t it? And if it was Holly’s husband responsible for sending Mary-Margaret’s husband to the slammer . . . oh, good gravy. This could get ugly.

Holly put her phone down when Caleb walked into the kitchen. He scribbled something on the top of his aluminum Primm Cable storage clipboard.

“You know, if you wean your daughter off My Little Pony, you can cancel the premium channel bundle and save a ton of money. You do know about the Hub Network, don’t you? Cronies from the Chinese government hacked into it in a plot to gain territory in the South China Sea. If you support the Hub Network, you’re supporting the militarization of China. The money you’re spending is lining the pockets of weapons dealers. From Switzerland.”

“My Little Pony? The militarization of China? Wait a minute.” Holly held a hand up. “Hold up. Time-out. First you go after my daughter’s sippy cup. You have Jack thinking she’s going to sprout a speech delay overnight. Now you’re telling me the Hub Network has been infiltrated by Chinese hackers? And subscribers are lining the pockets of Swiss arms dealers?” Holly narrowed her eyes at him. “How much of what you say is total bullspit?”

He grinned.

“I don’t believe it.” Holly grabbed her head, then covered her face. “This is insane. You’re a real piece of work; you know that? Do you have any idea how much anxiety you’ve caused me? Sippy cups causing speech delays?”

“That part is true,” he pointed out. “My sister is a speech therapist.”

“Do you do this to all the moms?”

His smile spread to such a point it gave him away. “Actually, yeah, I do.” He laughed. “Every day. All the time. To everyone. All across town.”

Holly leaned way back in her chair, mind blown. “And that Area 51 business—messing up my cable connection. That was a load of crock too. Wasn’t it?”

Holly was just making sure, because Psychic Betty had gotten her thinking all sorts of things lately. Mercury retrograde, vibrations, beer-battered cod.

“You’re good. No interference from Area 51. Primm’s too far away.” More chuckling from Caleb. “Sorry.”

“You know you’re torturing women who are trying really hard to get through the day.”