A Merry Little Christmas by Anita Higman Page A

headband, but Charlie held onto the other end of it. “I admire the fact that you did try.”
    “You do?”
    “Yes.” Charlie let go of the headband. “In fact—”
    “Wait a minute. Hey, how did you find me? Aunt Beatrice doesn’t live at that residence anymore, so the telephone number I gave you was bad.”
    “I know.” A smile warmed Charlie’s features. “Well, I had a little help from my Friend.” He pointed upward. “Hey, that’d make a good song. Anyway, miraculously, I heard your name on the radio. I could hardly believe it. The announcer mentioned this diner and, well, I didn’t know where else to go. I took a chance since it was close to the station and I thought you might be hungry.”
    “It was a miracle you found me, since I could have stopped at any diner in the city.” Franny picked at the lace on the headband. “Any diner at all.”
    “But you didn’t. You stopped here. And I couldn’t be happier about it.”
    “Me too.”
    “The thing is”—Charlie loosened his tie—“if you don’t love your waitressing job, I wish you’d come back. You’re good at farming, and I’d pay you very well to help me. Of course you’d stay in the house.”
    “Oh.” Franny scrubbed her knuckles against her chin. “So that’s the real reason you came to find me—to save the farm?” She had a sudden need to play with the salt and pepper shakers, so she wood-pecker-tapped them together, impatient to know Charlie’s real reason for his fanatic search to find her.
    “No, it isn’t at all.” He caught her gaze, which wasn’t easy to catch, since she was avoiding his scrutiny. “I missed you, Franny. The farm has no life or color without you. I doubt the potatoes would grow in the spring without you. And the pigs were getting a serious case of melancholia. It just won’t do, Franny.”
    She sighed a little inside, thinking he’d redeemed himself. A little. “I have to confess that I missed the farm after I left. And I missed you.”
    “I’m glad.” Charlie picked up the ketchup and mustard containers and bumped them together just like Franny had with the salt and pepper shakers.
    She grinned.
    “So, tell me, do you regret selling me the farm?”
    “I would hate to put it that way.” But how would she put it?
    He set the containers down but continued to grip them. “Here’s the way it is…I want you to come back, but I’m equally sorry about your dream. I want you to know that I wasn’t rooting for your failure. Except now, I admit to a little selfish joy on my part. But I assure you that I’m very repentant for it. Well, I’m trying to be.”
    Franny loved the way Charlie talked—loved his ways in general. “I believe you.”
    “And I promise I didn’t burn down the barn just to get you to come back.”
    She chuckled. “I’m glad about that too.”
    “Good. Now will you come back? Just say those words. Please.”
    “Yes, I just might.”
    “Sorry, it suddenly got so noisy in here that I couldn’t hear what you said.”
    “Yeah, I know. There’s a bunch of ladies laughing up at the front. Women can be such cackling hens.”
    “What?”
    “I said, women can be such cackling hens,” Franny almost screamed the words just as the diner got quiet. A few people looked their way.
    Charlie and Franny laughed.
    “My answer is yes.”
    “Very good. Well, then, I think you’re going to disappoint old Arnold. He was looking forward to working with his grandmother.”
    Franny chuckled. “Cute.” She gave his hand a little pat. “Arnold will recover.”
    Charlie took her hands in his. “I want to ask you for another favor.”
    What could it be now? “Yes?”
    “As you know, my brother and father live here in the city and, well, I’d like for them to meet you. We could go after lunch. That is, if you want to.”
    “I would love to meet your family.” Franny looked at her uniform and remembered the dress hanging in the back room. “I’ll have to turn in this uniform,