Page 6 of Must Love Libraries and Libations (Moonshine Hollow #2)

PRIMROSE

I couldn’t remember ever being angrier. My heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my temples. Elder Theodonna and I stood outside the library. She fanned herself in an effort to calm her nerves.

“Well, that didn’t go as planned,” the elder admitted sadly. “I’m sorry, Primrose.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” I told her. “He is the one who should be apologizing. The nerve of the man. He has been sitting in there so long that he thinks he’s part of the library. It belongs to the town, not to him. And he needed a good reminder of that, which I gave him.”

The elder smiled and laughed nervously. “That was very brave of you.”

“I’m not intimidated by him,” I told her, then set my hand on her arm. “Are you all right?”

Elder Theodonna nodded. “Yes. It just took me aback for a moment.”

“He’s not winning this argument. I don’t care how much he scowls.

” Or how appealing he looks with his jaw clenched tight, his massive arms crossed defiantly on his chest. “He might have two feet on me, but he’s no match for my determination.

I am my mother’s daughter, after all,” I said with a wink, making Elder Theodonna laugh.

“There is no one more persistent than your mother. That is the truth,” she said, her ease returning.

“I’ll come back tomorrow. I will win this argument. Don’t worry, Elder Theodonna. The party will be perfect.”

“You’re such a dear. Thank you. Be well, Primrose. I wish you luck. You’re going to need it,” she told me, then headed off.

Once she’d gone, I exhaled deeply, shaking out my own tensions, then turned to make my way home. It had already been a very long day.

But as I walked, I couldn’t help but ruminate.

The nerve.

The absolute nerve of that man.

He didn’t own the library. He wasn’t in charge of everything. He was there to protect the books. And the books needed protecting from what? A brass band? Lemon-poppyseed cake? Punch? Flowers?

The way he spoke to Elder Theodonna… The bloody nerve of that man.

I had wanted to punch him in his perfect nose, or perfect jaw, or perfectly kissable lips.

I stopped in my tracks.

What now?

A quick image of me grabbing that surly nightmare by the horns and pulling him for a kiss floated across my mind like a wistful daydream.

“Oh, no. No, no, no. Never. That man is…unbearable.”

But did he have a point about the band? Was it too much? Was he right? Had I, once again, made things too…extra?

I paused and looked at the road ahead.

I wasn’t ready to go home yet.

Not yet.

I veered from my path and turned onto Cherry Lane. Making a slight detour, I turned once more and wound down to Buttercup Lane and the tiny cottage that sat on the corner.

There she was, utter perfection in faded and cracking pink paint.

I paused outside the broken garden gate, setting my hand on the worn, white-washed wood just long enough to let myself dream.

Widow Merribell had been gone a year. Her beautiful garden was overgrown, the flowers in her window boxes a little wild, her perfect flagstone walkway leading up to the door of her little stone cottage now covered with moss.

Ivy encroached on the windows. Staring longingly, I soon spotted the flower fairies that tended the space.

Though the garden was not as tidy as it had been when Widow Merribell lived there, the flowers were still healthy, as were the trees and bushes.

Tiny sprites moved amongst the grasses. They passed shy glances my way as they looked out from behind old pots, ferns, and mushrooms.

“Fair greetings to you, Fairy Kin,” I called, using the term my elven father had taught me.

I was only a half-elf myself, but I still felt the call of nature in my blood.

And right now, it was calling me to buy that cottage.

I could already see myself working in the garden, the hot sun on my back as I worked tending the flowers, my little children laughing as they played.

And my husband… Well, he was still a shadowy figure made up of someday and muscles.

I lingered there as I often did.

I almost had enough money to place a bid on the cottage.

After this job at the library, I would still be a little shy of a respectable offer, but I was getting closer.

I smiled, imagining myself cleaning the windows, repainting the door, weeding the raised vegetable garden in the back.

Maybe I would paint the ceiling of the porch blue.

I had never been inside, but through the windows, I could make out a deep, farmhouse sink just below the window that looked out on the side lawn where the lilacs grew.

A perfect life awaited me there…as long as no one else bought the cottage first.

“One day, I hope to join you all here working in this garden, but we will see what fate has in store. Until then, bright blessings on you all,” I called.

The fairies paused their work to give me a brief curtsy or bow, but the sprites remained hidden, although I could feel their hearts had warmed to me.

I turned and headed off once more, making my way to my parents’ house.

I wound my way past the pond, the warbleducks singing in time as they drifted across the surface of the water together.

Their whistling song stayed in tune but was decidedly nonsensical to anyone but ducks.

But still, it was the sound of home. I made my way to the blue front door of our crooked little house.

It was only when I saw our enchanted wagon waiting outside that I remembered…

“Oh. No.” With all the excitement of the day, I had totally forgotten.

From inside the house, I heard my mother’s shrill voice. She grew increasingly louder as she neared the window. Soon, my mother shrieked so loudly that the flock of warbleducks stopped singing and honked loudly in protest.

Bilbi, our ancient thistle hound who had been lingering on the porch, lifted his head to greet me. Bilbi and my father once roamed the fields and forests surrounding Moonshine Hollow for rare plants and mushrooms—a talent special to thistle hounds—but now, the old hound rarely left the deck.

I knelt to pet him. “Hello, old friend.”

He wagged his tail in greeting, and I swore I saw sympathy in his eyes.

A moment later, the door flew open.

“Primrose!” my mother shrieked. “There you are! Where have you been?”

“Working, Mother. Elder Theodonna and I?—”

“We’re going to be late. Get in here and get changed.”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Oh, my poor heart. If we’re late, who knows what the others will think? Linden? Linden! Now, where has your father gone? Have you seen him, Primrose?”

“No, Mother. I’ve just come from?—”

“Go get ready! Oh, I have to check on my pie. What if it doesn’t set in time? Where was I? No one listens to me, Bilbi,” my mother wailed to the poor dog. “And now, we will all be late! What will Cousin Annie Beth think?”

“We have time, Mother,” I called. “The sun doesn’t even set for two hours.”

My mother merely wailed in reply.

Shaking my head, I passed through the house to the stairs.

Everything was in upheaval, a reflection of my mother’s mood.

The pans in the sink were washing themselves but clanging in protest. The brooms were sweeping dust toward one another.

My mother’s outfit for the evening sat on the sewing table, still unfinished.

Beside it, my mother’s sewing basket was tossing out ribbons in frustration.

“Not that color,” my mother told the basket. “No. No. I said pink. Not that pink! No. No. That’s mauve. No. Lighter!”

I could have sworn the basket heaved a sigh.

Throwing her hands in the air, my mother turned and looked at me. “Primrose, what are you waiting for? Get upstairs and change,” she said, then eyed me over. “Oh, I hope those overalls still fit. Linden, where are you?”

“Here, Popkin,” my father called, entering through the back door, the screen door behind him closing with a clap.

“What… What have you been doing?”

“Reading.”

“Reading? Reading! But you’ll never be dressed in?—”

“I’m already dressed, Popkin.”

My mother paused and assessed my father, who stood in the entryway of the kitchen eating an apple.

I grinned at him.

Catching sight of me, he winked at me in reply.

Tonight was the fancy overalls party at Cousin Annie Beth’s farm, an event that always had my mother in a tizzy.

My father, predicting chaos, was already suited for the battle.

Dressed in his elaborate auburn-colored corduroy overalls, the cuffs embroidered with vines, an orange tunic underneath, he played the part of a pumpkin.

“Where is your hat?” my mother asked, her eyes narrowing.

“Here,” my father replied cheerfully, pulling the orange beret from his pocket and tossing it onto his head, his pointed ears poking up from either side. At the top of the beret was a green pumpkin stem with enchanted leaves that seemed to wag in the breeze.

My mother heaved an exasperated sigh. “Look at you, already ready but not helping me one bit! Oh, the pie will still be warm! Primrose, why are you lingering? Upstairs and dressed! And be sure to do your hair the way Rosalyn showed you. Oh, that Rosalyn is such an elegant one. That girl could wear a grain sack and still look beautiful. Fix your hair just like she said. Kevin will be there tonight,” she added in a knowing tone.

I didn’t answer. My mother was absolutely committed to the idea that I would marry Kevin, a very polite young man who worked for Cousin Annie Beth’s husband and had a personality as engaging as a wall.

Frowning, I turned and escaped from any further discussion of Kevin.

Having forgotten me, my mother turned on my father once more. “Well, are you going to help me or not?”

“And how, exactly, can I help you, Popkin?”

“Oh! No one ever listens to me!”

I slipped into my room and closed the door behind me.

I leaned back against it for a moment, closing my eyes and attempting to drown out my mother’s caterwauling.

When that didn’t work, I opened my eyes once more and snapped my fingers, causing the lute in the corner to come to life and play an enchanting tune that was loud enough to drown her complaining.

Living with my parents until I had enough money to buy my own place had made fiscal sense, but the reality was sometimes…

challenging. I loved my parents, but the idea of sitting on the front porch of my pink cottage with a lemonade and watching the fairies work was everything.

It was why I took every job offered to me, no matter how difficult, no matter how many complications it came with.

I needed my own place.

As soon as possible.

Setting my work basket aside, I went to my closet and pulled out the fancy overalls outfit my mother had made for me.

It was strawberry-themed. The design was cute…

red overalls with gold-colored seeds, strawberry top leaves on my matching beret, and a red shirt underneath.

Fancy overalls night was the highlight of my mother’s social calendar.

Heading to my private bathroom, I worked on getting ready.

Once, my best friend, an elegant pixie named Rosalyn, had fixed my hair in a braided pixie style.

My mother had talked about it ever since, and Rosalyn had never stopped apologizing to me.

But no matter my mother’s insistence that I recreate the style, I couldn’t pull it off.

Instead, I went with matching braided pigtails with red bows at the ends and donned my strawberry cap.

Hoping it would appease her, I also painted my cheeks red and applied strawberry seed-esque dots on top.

“Primrose,” my mother burst in, not bothering to knock. “Are you ready? We are positively late! And you don’t want to keep Kevin waiting.”

“Mother, I have no interest in?—”

“When we get there, try not to be too… extra . You know how you get. Don’t be too much. Kevin is shy. Why is your hair like that?”

“Because I was born with it.”

“Oh, why must everyone vex me?” she wailed. “And the style Rosalyn showed you?”

“Couldn’t recreate it.”

My mother huffed and then eyed me over. “Those overalls look tight. Are they too tight?”

“No, Mother.”

“You know Cousin Annie Beth will say something.”

She would never , but clearly, my mother had no problem making a comment.

“I’m perfectly comfortable,” I replied flatly. “Are you ready?”

“Me? Ready? Of course I’m ready. What do you think?” she asked, modeling her bright pink bloomberry-inspired ensemble.

“You look lovely.”

“Oh, thank you, Primrose,” my mother said, then turned to the stairs. “Linden! Linden! Primrose is done! Is the wagon ready?”

My father appeared from behind her. “It is,” he said, then looked me over. “Strawberry, eh, Primrose? You look very sweet. Your produce army is ready, Popkin.”

My mother rolled her eyes. “Finally. We’re going to be late!” my mother told us both, then headed back downstairs, grumbling all the while.

My father gave me a knowing look and then headed off behind her.

I took a deep breath and mustered up my courage. I thought the grumpy gargoyle was going to be the worst of my troubles today. I had forgotten what lay before me.

Fancy overalls party night.

May all the fruits, flowers, fairies, and gourds be with me!