Down Home Carolina Christmas Read Free

Carrie opened her bottle, too. She sipped, studying Luke Mason. Somewhat to her amazement, he wasn’t wearing a gold chain necklace like every other male who lived in California, if you were to believe those TV shows where they told you everything you never wanted to know about celebrities.
    â€œThis is the best Coca-Cola I’ve had in ages,” he said consideringly. “It’s hard to find the old-time six-ounce glass bottle anymore. Vending-machine Coke usually comes in cans.”
    This at least was something Carrie knew about. “Granddaddy put that machine in. It’s one of the few left in the state. The price has gone up since the old days, though. I remember when a Coke used to cost a quarter.” She couldn’t have explained her chattiness, couldn’t have said why she was running on about soda pop as if it was the most important topic in the world.
    â€œI remember those days, too,” he said with a grin.
    Carrie reined in her motor mouth and contemplated how to bring up the topic of his leaving. She didn’t want to say that she was supposed to be cooking a big dinner for her family right now because it would be rude not to invite him once she’d mentioned it.
    â€œSo you’ve been in Yewville for about a week?” she ventured politely when the silence began to grow awkward.
    â€œEight days,” he told her. “Getting acclimated and soaking up the atmosphere that produced Yancey Goforth back in the 1950s.”
    â€œAnd what’s your impression of our little town?”
    â€œI like it,” he replied, surprising her. Most strangers found Yewville quaint at best and boring at worst. Yewville didn’t have a movie theater. No store in town had an elevator. Cell phones didn’t always work here, and the water tasted funny.
    â€œWhat do you like about it?” Carrie asked with interest, warming to him a tad more.
    â€œPeople are friendly. I feel welcome.”
    Well, duh. As her sister, Dixie, might say, who wouldn’t welcome a hunky movie star to a small town where the local National Guard unit had shipped out to the Middle East and the other eligible guys were hopeless losers. But, “Southerners are famous for hospitality,” Carrie said primly.
    â€œAnd rightly so.” He paused as a wistfulness passed over his features. “I grew up in a town not much bigger than this in New Hampshire. My parents still live there, but it’s been almost a year since I’ve seen my folks,” he said, and she detected a hint of sadness in his tone.
    â€œWhat a shame,” Carrie murmured, truly sorry for him. She couldn’t imagine a life that kept her from being with her family.
    For a moment, a pensiveness flitted across his face, and she sensed that it hid an underground pain. “I don’t have brothers or sisters,” he said, “and my parents don’t like California much. Over the years we’ve lost a good bit of family feeling, even though we talk on the phone a lot. I’d like to fly my folks down here while I’m on location, but I can’t get them to commit to a date.” By the time he wound up his last sentence, he’d already masked the emotions that had surfaced so briefly.
    Abstractedly, confounded at the way Luke Mason had confided in her, she lifted the wide wooden lid off the glass jar on her desk and removed a package of salted peanuts.
    â€œWant some?” she offered him, figuring that he’d refuse, but he said, “Okay.”
    Wordlessly she slid the package over to Luke. He reached for his pocket, but she shook her head. “No need to pay. It’s on the house.” It was the least she could do, taking into account that he seemed to lead a deprived life. No family, no sense of home, maybe nothing better to do on a Sunday afternoon than fill his car’s tires with air.
    She dumped the peanuts in her Coke, which fizzed slightly. The top of the package