Holly Banks Full of Angst (Village of Primm, #1)(91)

“Well, I think it’s pretty.” Greta pouted, admiring her work in spite of Holly’s reaction. She crossed her arms, appearing a bit defensive. “No one else can say they have curtains like that.”

“They need to come down. Right now.”

Holly reached up and with one big yank—“Holly, wait!”—tried stripping her window of its public shame. It felt cathartic—except the curtains didn’t budge. They held fast.

“Don’t!” Greta spoke with urgency. “They’re nailed to the trim. Wait till Jack gets home. Maybe he has a tool we can use. A jackhammer. Or something.”

Breathing like a bull from flared nostrils, still clutching the fluffy-cloud curtains overhead, Holly stood steadfast for a moment, heart pounding, trying to calm down. Staring out her front window—nothing but manicured homes, hella mulch, and windows framing custom drapes. “You know what?” she said at last. “I have the perfect solution for Ella’s thumb-sucking.”

She unclenched her fists from the curtains, abandoning the fandangled window treatments to march over to the grocery bags and rummage through them. She held up a bottle of no-bite nail polish. “Goes on clear, tastes horrible.”

“Then let’s go find Ella,” said Greta, pulling Holly by the arm, ushering her quickly toward the family room and away from the front window. “No sense taking your frustrations out on the curtains.”



Ella agreed she’d let them paint her nails, but only if Greta and Holly painted their nails too. They agreed, and before long, all three of them had painted all ten of their respective fingernails. Assuming it would only work if they really glopped it on, they were ridiculously liberal with the polish, painting second and third coats. As an added bonus, Greta twisted into another one of her yoga poses (this time fully clothed) and painted her own toenails. She winked at Ella as she was painting. “In case I get the urge to suck my foot’s thumb.”

“Okay, Ella.” Finished with the nail polish, Holly held up a Merriam-Webster Dictionary of Synonyms and Antonyms. She even found a copy of the Oxford American Writer’s Thesaurus. “Let’s get that ‘Happy’ poster done.”

Everyone spread out on the kitchen table beneath Anna Wintour. Poster board, pencils, markers. And the two thesauruses. Thesauri?

“Ella, I love your smiley faces.” Jack pointed to the row of construction paper smiley faces that bordered Ella’s poster. “They turned out nicely.” He pulled up a chair.

“So, Ella. Let’s look at this book. Okay.” Holly thumbed through the pages, opening to the entry for the word happy. Holly scooted closer to Ella. “Alphabetically, the entries read: happily, happiness, happy. Followed by happy go lucky.”

“I like that word—happy go lucky,” Greta said. “Read that one.”

“Says here that other words for happy go lucky include easygoing, carefree, casual, free and easy, devil may care, blithe, nonchalant, unconcerned, untroubled, unworried, lighthearted. And laid back,” Holly said.

“Those are nice words,” Ella said.

“Yes,” Holly said, distracted by the same thought. “They are nice.”

Holly scanned them again, silently. She wished she could be like that. More lighthearted and laid back. She decided to try it. Make a concerted effort to be happy go lucky. Greta had learned how, so Holly figured so could she.

“Okay, so. Let’s look up happy.” Holly took Ella’s finger and slid it to the entry. “That’s happy,” Holly told Ella. “That’s what happy looks like. It reads: adjective. Cheerful, merry, joyful, jovial, jolly, jocular, gleeful, carefree.”

“Are we supposed to write these down?” Jack asked. “On the poster. Isn’t she supposed to write them down?”

“Just a sec.” Holly held a finger up. “Let’s read them first, okay, Ella? Figure out what all the fuss is about happy.” Holly touched the tip of Ella’s nose. “Everyone’s so hung up on being that word these days.” Holly squeezed Ella’s cheeks. Bent over to kiss Ella’s lips.

“Read the words, Mommy.” Ella tapped the page. “Let ’er rip.”

“Untroubled, delighted, smiling, beaming, grinning.” Holly checked on Ella. Ella grinned. “In good spirits, in a good mood.” Holly checked on Jack, and he smiled. “What? I’m in a good mood . . . ,” she told him. “Lighthearted, pleased, content, contented, satisfied. Gratified.” Holly checked everyone’s faces. Greta gazed at Holly like she was remembering something or hoping Holly’d remember something or learn something about something. Holly didn’t know. Didn’t know what was going on inside Greta’s head. “Should I keep reading?”

“Yes, yes, most definitely,” Greta said. “That book’s a treasure. Who knew there were so many options for being happy?”

“Ella, you think of the words you like,” Holly instructed. “And when I’m finished reading them, we’re going to copy the words onto the poster.”

Ella covered her eyes with the palms of her hands. “Yes, I know, Mommy. Read.”

“Okay, okay. Thrilled, elated, exhilarated, ecstatic. Blissful.” Holly reread them. “Good gravy. That’s a lot of pressure,” Holly said to Jack. “Ecstatic? You have to be ecstatic to consider yourself happy?”