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?”
