A Cherry Cola Christmas by Ashton Lee Read Free Book Online

the house without him. Now how am I s’pposed to help out with him drivin’ me around like that? Could you do me a big favor and talk some sense into him? When he get the hard head like that, I just throw my hands up in the air. Just like his no-good daddy—and good riddance to him!”
    Mr. Place’s jaw dropped as a round of snickers and giggles broke out among the members. “Mama, the sheriff doesn’t have time for this. It’s strictly between you and me.”
    â€œI have time for all my constituents,” the sheriff declared, rising to the occasion. “And let me just say that you might be in the best position of all of us, ma’am. The driver’s the one who has to pay attention to the road and such—and that leaves the passengers free to see a lot more. Why, you can keep an eye out that much better that way!”
    Ardenia sat back in her chair, adjusting her thick glasses and then folding her arms with a satisfied grin. “Well, I never looked at it that-a-way. Guess maybe I can do my part after all. When you a certain age, no one seem to pay attention to you. You heard what the sheriff say, son?”
    â€œI heard it, Mama.”
    The sheriff drew himself up with a great intake of air, adding another few inches to his height. “Well, I’m glad I could help you out, Miz Ardenia. You might be the one who ends up helping us catch the thief.” He nodded her way crisply. “Well, I guess that’s about it, ladies and gentlemen. We believe the eyes and ears of Cherico will solve this thing and get things back to normal. Better to nip this kinda thing in the bud. Do your part and be smart about it. We’re all counting on ya.”
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    No meeting of The Cherry Cola Book Club was ever complete without potluck dishes to sample, and the talk by the sheriff was no exception. In fact, he was the first in line at the buffet table, and soon everyone was digging into the peeled boiled shrimp and cocktail sauce, potato salad with egg and dill, and caramel pie that various members had contributed; and also true to form—everyone was using the occasion to catch up with each other.
    â€œSo, your second trimester is going a lot easier for you?” Maura Beth was asking Becca Brachle. The two of them had managed to find a couple of seats next to each other in the midst of the chatting throng.
    Becca’s face was a study in relief. “Oh, very much easier, thank you. I’ve been the Queen of Morning Sickness up until now. My mother was like that, too. But thankfully, that’s all behind me. I feel like I can get to the end of this now, and believe me, I was doubting that for a while.”
    â€œAre you and your Stout Fella still not going to ask your obstetrician about the gender?”
    â€œJustin wants to know in the worst way. I kinda don’t, though. So far, I’ve managed to hold out, but I have to say, he’s wearing me down. It would be easier to buy things in coordinated colors, so to speak. I know, I know—in this day and age you’d think people would’ve moved away from the pink and blue thing. But when you’ve been waiting to get pregnant as long as Justin and I have, you’d be surprised how traditional our thinking has become all of a sudden.”
    Maura Beth took a sip of her cherry cola punch and moved on to the inevitable. “What about baby names?”
    â€œNow there, we’ve made a decision,” Becca said, excitement flashing in her eyes. “If it’s a boy, he’s not going to be a junior. We want something brand-new. So we’re going with Mark Grantham Brachle. Grantham was my mother’s maiden name, and I want to honor it.”
    â€œI like the sound of it, too. And if it’s a girl?”
    Becca sounded thoroughly resolute. “No Becca, either. I would never tell my mother this, but I’ve never really liked my name. It always sounded so formal to me. So,