Julianna Morris - Christmas With Carlie

“We can’t have you passing out from hunger or dehydration.” Sarah held out a cup of warm cider.

Carlie glanced toward the Forresters as she drank thirstily. It wasn’t unusual for certain guests to gobble up a lot of time. Tessa liked the personal touch at Poppy Gold and had given her a staff, so if some guests were more demanding, the others weren’t neglected. Of course, they’d never had a guest stay for six weeks, either.

But Luke had mentioned his sister would be arriving Monday, which meant Annie and Beth should be better occupied. It was just as well. The twins were sweet, but surely they needed family, not a stranger.

After gulping the rest of her apple slices and cheese, Carlie circulated through the crowd of people, chatting and offering reminders about the living nativity that was starting in another forty-five minutes. But she quickly held up her hand when the reporter-photographer from the Glimmer Creek Gazette raised his camera.

“Please, Perry, I don’t want to be in the newspaper. Surely you’d prefer a photo of Uncle Liam or Tessa.”

“I didn’t say anything about putting it in the Gazette.” He winked and took a quick shot. “You were always my dream girl. If I can’t have you, at least I can put your picture under my pillow.”

Carlie laughed. They’d gone to high school together and had even dated as juniors, but she’d never been his dream girl; Perry Fisher enjoyed playing the field too much. Still, he was a fun guy and a volunteer fireman with a reputation for going beyond the call.

“Keep talking, Perry. You’re good for my ego.”

“Does that mean you’ll finally go out with me? How many times have I asked since you came back to Glimmer Creek?”

“I’m just so busy,” she said, wishing she hadn’t brought it up. “You know, with everything...”

Perry’s face sobered. “I know. We miss Mike down at the fire department. How is he?”

“About the same.” Her dad had been forced to resign as a volunteer firefighter after his accident. “Why don’t you take pictures of the carolers in their costumes for your article?” she suggested, eager to change the subject. “I’d also love a plug for the living nativity. Remember, every Friday and Saturday night until Christmas, six thirty to nine.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

A few minutes later, she circled around to Annie and Beth and smiled at them. “We’re getting close.”

“I don’t think they believe you,” Luke murmured.

“When you’re six, minutes can seem like hours. By the way, I want to ask you something later.”

He instantly looked suspicious. “I don’t do interviews and the girls are off-limits at all times.”

Carlie blinked, confused. “What makes you think I’d want you to do an interview?”

* * *

LUKE WAS ANNOYED that he’d said the first thing to pop into his mind. “I’ve been watching that photographer, the one with the press badge, and saw you talking to him.”

Carlie’s lips tightened. “I asked him to do extra promotion for the living nativity. It’s a new event and I want it to be a success. An interview was my last thought. For your information, Poppy Gold frequently has high-profile guests. We have an agreement with the Gazette and local radio station to leave them alone. Perry is taking pictures and writing a story about kickoff day. That’s all.”

“Oh.”

“We’ve had much more interesting people stay at Poppy Gold, by the way. I don’t think you need to worry.”

From her flashing eyes, Luke suspected Carlie would have loved to tell him off, but was constrained by her position working for the bed-and-breakfast complex. Not that she’d done a bad job of knocking his ego down a peg with her polite comment about “much more interesting” people staying at Poppy Gold. Luke didn’t mind; honesty was a quality he valued as much as his privacy.

“We’re starting, everyone,” a voice called above the carol singing, which quieted instantly.

A count started in the crowd, reminiscent of Times Square on New Year’s Eve.

“Five, four, three, two...”

As the final number rang out, the rooflines, windows and doors of the Victorians were suddenly outlined with strings of lights. The trees lit up a moment later, along with bushes and the poles of lampposts that looked like they were converted gaslights.

Beth and Annie squealed with excitement and clapped their hands. Carlie Benton’s face reflected their blissful pleasure, and even Luke, who wasn’t big on showy displays, thought it was attractive.

Christmas had arrived with a splash at Poppy Gold.

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