#daisy beech

The publisher liked the title of JoAnn's maestro memoir and asked if any other publications had used the word "icon" to describe the factory turned funhouse, for possible praising quotes to put on the jacket. Well, no, not yet. That was the beauty of it, JoAnn told them, with a winning combo of bright earnestness and firm seriousness. Why wait for others to call us iconic? Besides, the publisher was already on board via virality of the venue's social media presence alone. Dot was a whiz with the algorithm and had trend-savvy people chasing hashtags to the village to rival the droves of cattle. What more did they need?

Success as a published author as well as a rising rock star aside, JoAnn liked to feel down-to-earth again. She'd taken up busking by Owlberry Lake and remembering the feeling of being a tiny guitar prodigy just learning her chords with every clink of a coin in the jar. Beer money, she'd told Daisy with a laugh.

Speaking of Daisy, she'd found a new interest in developing the Printer Press bar menu, becoming quite the cocktail and cheese platter queen. Dot was trying something new too - gasp - monogamy! Even talking about getting married, for goodness sake, all because the handsome farmer boy Sunny Roseland donated the cost of the stage's sound and lighting rig.

Rocky blinked and both his daughters were nearly as tall as we was. Overnight, Myrtle had started rapid firing at the dinner table about the boy she liked at school; he was super cute and nice and they were partners for the science project and got an A, and could he come over to swim in the pool sometime, please? Of course, Rocky agreed, as long as she didn't think it was too uncool if he and Daisy swam as well. Why should the elders miss out on a sunny afternoon?

There were things she didn't want to acknowledge. She didn't want to know if she was seriously sick, because then she would have to know for sure that her immune system had become weaker in old age. She was going to stifle this cough, that was surely just a little throat tickle, nothing more, and keep on trucking. She had to, for her daughters.

An entirely separate matter that Daisy wilfully turned a blind eye to was her teenagers being teenagers and doing things like sneaking out to hang in random fields with friends at midnight. Myrtle and Venice were awesome kids, truly - both took after their dad's natural smarts, did well in school, and even put their hands up for clubs and student leadership roles. The latest development was Venice joining the spirit team and advocating for cheerleading as a brand new initiative. However, they were still kids. Daisy slipped water bottles with slices of lemon into their backpacks and assured Rocky they would be fine, in spite of his frowning. Someone in the village would let them know if something was amiss. Besides, weren't they both young too, once?

The couple were paying mind to their nutrition in the quest for making baby number two. Not to say that baby number one wasn't enough! - Myrtle most definitely provided many hours of getting up in the night and playtime and grizzles and giggles. It was just that, they were experiencing all of that, and wanting more!

Rocky knew that Daisy's non-sleep requirement within her faerie physiology was very likely a big factor in just how much fun they were having with parenting. If it wasn't just him with bags under his eyes, they might be reconsidering their health kick and making plans to sell Myrtle's newborn onesies. However, when it came to the hunger in Daisy's eyes when she happened upon him in the bathtub, the gentleman clad only in bubbles... subsequently dragging him to bed, still sodden and all... there was nothing like it. Biology lead the way and they were going to keep trying for another; it might as well be a bit of fun, too.

In the meantime, family rallied around Myrtle as the baby. Uncle Basil travelled out from Land Grant University to visit and the two got on like a greenhouse doused in sunlight and water, babbling away to each other in Myrtle's own brand of developing language. She reached up to his hat and pinched the lavender and lime waves of crochet and he smiled and asked her if she would like the colours. Yes, yes she did!

Venice was up on her feet now, toddling around and being generally charming. She recently formed her first syllable: "Dah." It was hotly debated whether she was trying to say dad or Daisy, like the flower on her head. Maybe she'd heard people say, "Daisy, you look amazing!" at her mum's milestone birthday party (at which natural grey hair was debuted), and became inspired. Whatever the case, it was adorable.

There was a brand new baby, too. Elmo's eyes popped open to reveal they were forest green like his dad's. Basil would've put money on him taking after Emilia's rich, earthy gaze! Of course, either way, the little guy was adorable.

Daisy and Rocky knew it was just a matter of a DNA dice roll when it came to their kids being full-fledged faeries. It just so happened that their youngest daughter Venice was very much one of the fae, and their oldest daughter Myrtle wasn't. Daisy had someone to share her culture with and Rocky didn't have to make dinner for one; win-win!