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Everly
“I’m heading out.” Indie popped into my room, and a grin split her face from ear to ear. “Wait a moment. You’re wearing sparkly eyeshadow and eyeliner. You never wear makeup anymore. What’s the occasion? Are we resurrecting the princess parties? I still have my Belle costume in the back of my closet.”
“Nope.” I put the finishing touches to my eye makeup and turned my face side to side to make sure both eyes matched. They say that your eyeliner wings should be sisters, not twins. Today mine looked more like two very distant cousins. Oh well. Thankfully, preschoolers weren’t too picky about that kind of thing.
“It’s Makayla’s birthday today, and I thought I’d try something different. Wyatt mentioned yesterday that my dressing up as Elsa to wish him a happy birthday was his most memorable gift. So, ta-da.” I gestured toward my tank top and tutu. “Today, I’m a birthday fairy.” A pair of iridescent wings currently hanging on the back of my chair would complete my transformation.
Indie watched while I stuck a tiny gem to my cheek. “So we’re dressing up as the Sanderson sisters for Halloween, and you’re in a fairy costume today all because of something Wyatt said?”
Huh, I hadn’t thought of it like that. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“I love seeing you like this.”
“Like what?”
“With your sparkle back.”
I paused before applying another gem to my face. “I’m bringing the magic today for the kids.” And maybe for me too. I’d forgotten how much I enjoyed dressing up until Wyatt reminded me.
“I’m glad you’re finally getting your mojo back.” Indie studied me, her expression wistful. “Maybe I should try wearing a pair of wings to my meeting today. I’ll need all the help I can get.”
I flashed her a sympathetic smile. From what she’d told me, the library staff meetings got pretty heated at times. “Did you pack your coffee and a stash of caramels?”
“You know it, girl.” Indie grimaced. “I swear, Drew’s going to fight me on everything, but even he’s got to see that we need to remodel the children’s section. As it is, the area is too small, the table tops are peeling, and the rug has a perpetual stinky sock and curdled milk smell. My idea for a bachelor baking competition would be the perfect fundraiser. People will pay loads of money to see Sunnyvale’s most handsome men baking cookies and cakes for a good cause. I can already see the crowds now. Picture this.” She waved her hand in the air. “The Mr. Hot Buns library fundraiser competition. Catchy title, isn’t it?”
I burst out in fit of giggles. “I love the idea, but you might need to work on the name. If anyone can convince Drew and the rest of the staff, it’s you. I mean, you persuaded us to try this dating thing.”
“You’re welcome.” Indie performed a small bow. “Oh, before I forget, I stopped in because I found a costume for you to wear to that speed dating event.”
“I completely forgot.” My Sanderson sister costume wouldn’t be ready in time. “You sure? I could just dress up as a fairy again.”
Indie shook her head. “Today’s look is perfect for the five-and-under crowd, but you’ll need something a tad more grown-up this Saturday. This costume is perfect. I purchased it a while back but never got around to wearing it.”
I cleared my throat. Knowing Indie, it was probably super short, super tight, and highly inappropriate. “I need to show up fully dressed.”
“Don’t worry. It’s perfectly decent… mostly.”
* * *
After a busy morningthat featured an overflowing toilet (had Joy’s bad luck rubbed off on me?) and a massive meltdown over a feather (which, thankfully, an impromptu face-painting session soothed), one o’clock rolled around, and I felt like a melted ice-cream cone: mostly good, but kind of oozy. I fixed my wings and touched up my makeup before calling to the children scattered around my backyard.
“Only a few more minutes until it’s time to celebrate Makayla’s birthday.”
The ten kids continued playing as if they hadn’t heard.
“What a morning.” Tonya, Makayla’s mother and today’s volunteer, sat back in a deck chair and massaged her temples. “I can’t believe you do this every day. But the kids love it, and your garden’s the perfect place for a school.”
I agreed. By the back fence, a playset offered a place to swing and climb. On the other side of the yard, a magnificent magnolia tree provided shade and sturdy branches for a tree swing. Raised fruit and vegetable beds by the house hosted three gigantic sunflowers, a handful of kale plants, and countless strawberry plants. A circle of hay bales stood in the center of the yard for kids to jump on, and everywhere you looked, giant terra-cotta pots filled with colorful flowers to attract butterflies and hummingbirds dotted the backyard. On the cement patio, kids whizzed around on tricycles, drew with chalk, played in a wooden playhouse, built with blocks, and sat at an oversized picnic table—coloring and painting. It was an awesome space for the school I’d always dreamed of running.
“That’s what I think too. And it’ll be even better once Dad comes by today and finishes the tree house.” So far, he’d built two platforms in the magnolia tree and now needed to finish the railing.
As if on cue, a voice called out from the side gate, “Everly?”
“We’re out back.”
My father walked in, followed by Wyatt. I stared at him in surprise. What was he doing here?
A few of the children stopped what they were doing to wave. “Hi, Grandpa Dane.” Sometimes, if a parent wasn’t available to volunteer at school, my father helped out.
