Holly Banks Full of Angst (Village of Primm, #1)(94)
And that was pretty much it. Holly’s first film post–film school. She wasn’t sure it would win the Wilhelm Klaus Film Festival, but for Holly? She was satisfied. Very satisfied. Immensely satisfied. Time to open that Gevrey-Chambertin and toast the three-letter word she’d been chasing for years: fin.
But there was one problem.
“Wait. What are you doing with the camera and mic?” asked Holly, watching Caleb collect what belonged to him. He packed everything up, then tucked it neatly into the side pocket of his cargo pants.
“I need it for another project,” he said.
And just like that, Holly’s access Hollywood—gone.
But I was using that, Holly wanted to say. “Oh, sure, sure. I understand,” she said instead, trying her best to act chill. She needed that equipment. To entrap the Pink Witch, expose My Love, and save the Village of Primm and Plume from ruin. Then again, it was more than that; it was personal. I need it to save my family. Dreams of saving the day, dreams of winning prize money at the Wilhelm Klaus—poof!—shoved into the pocket of some dude’s cargo pants. Now what am I going to do?
Holly followed Caleb to the front door. Caleb pausing at the threshold of her living room. “New curtains?” he asked.
And with a deep breath and a long, slow exhale, Holly said, “You might say that.”
38
Late Thursday night
With Holly’s lifeline in his pocket, Caleb left, so Holly and Greta started the pies, mixing the crust with their bare hands. The plan was for each of them to make seven pies. Thirteen to go to the Cherry Festival and one to eat at home now that Ella claimed she liked pie. They had to stand to make the piecrusts, using all their strength and arm muscles to dig in and knead each dough ball into submission.
“This is really hard,” Holly whined. “Feels like every muscle in my hands is on fire.” She had dough between her fingers, dough all over the counter, dough all over the floor. Greta was no different. They were up to their elbows in piecrust.
Just as they were finishing the fourteenth piecrust, Holly pleaded with Greta, “Let’s stop. My hands are killing me. We can straighten up and get a few hours of sleep. I’ll get Ella on the school bus tomorrow morning, and then we can crank this out. It’ll be fine. We can bake them two at a time.”
“We might be able to fit four.” Greta opened Holly’s oven to have a look. “Actually, that might be tight.” The house in Southern Lakes had a double oven. Dang it!
They cleaned up, washed up, then headed for bed.
But first, Holly logged onto her computer, hoping Psychic Betty was awake.
EMAIL—Time Sent: 11:49 p.m.
TO: Psychic Betty, Psychic Hotline Network
FROM: Holly Banks
SUBJECT: Is Mercury a Bully?
What did I (me, Holly Banks) do to offend Mercury? Because a lot of what you said has come true. I’ve had transportation issues, problems communicating, feelings I’m being sabotaged. But I live in the Village of Primm and Primm is like, really far away from Mercury. I looked it up. Depending on the planets’ orbits around the Sun, at any given time, Mercury can be anywhere from 48 to 130 million miles away from Earth. Shouldn’t Mercury be more concerned with what’s happening on the Sun? The Sun is only 28 to 43 million miles away from Mercury. Much closer than Earth. So what gives? Why pick on Earth? Is Mercury a bully?
I did learn that one day on Mercury is like 59 days on Earth. Lately, my days have seemed long and challenging. I sometimes wonder what planet I’m living on. Earth? Or Mercury?
Your friend,
Holly Banks
P.S. I made a film tonight. It felt good. Really good. Made me feel alive and excited and filled with possibility. Made me feel I found something I’d lost while being Jack’s wife and Ella’s mom. A set of keys to a unique treasure. Something I locked away. Set aside. Said, “I’ll get back to that when I’m done being a mom.” Me. Holly Banks! I made a film. Psychic Betty, I feel so overwhelmed. Why did I quiet that side of myself? Why did I ever tell myself it was something that could be postponed—until Ella was grown and my job as her mother complete? Because without my art—I’M not complete. I love film. I love creating. When I was doing it, it felt like my soul swelled—way beyond the limits of my body. Beyond my bones. Beyond my skin. I was everywhere—all at once. I was sky. I was ocean. Earth. Mercury. Psychic Betty, I was the SUN! Fully connected. Centered. Happy. I’m so glad I found you, Psychic Betty. You’re my best friend.
EMAIL—Time Sent: 11:52 p.m.
TO: Psychic Betty, Psychic Hotline Network
FROM: Holly Banks
SUBJECT: Whoops! Hit “send” too soon.
By “best friend” I mean—I appreciate you. That wasn’t creepy, was it? Telling you you’re my best friend? Because I want you to know—I have lots of friends. Tons of friends back home. My mom. (When she’s not driving me crazy.) Jack. (When he’s not driving me crazy.) And there’s a few moms I’ve met in the village that might make great friends. One step at a time. I’m still getting my feet wet.