Free Holly Grove Homecoming by Carolynn Carey

years.”
    “No, child, you don’t owe me anything. Your momma was my sister, and as long as I’m able, I’ll take care of her grave. And Jimmy’s too, of course. He was a good man, and he made my sister a fine husband.”
    “They were both good people,” Trooper agreed.
    Myrna opened her mouth as though to ask him something but then shut it again. “They were,” was all she said. She stood and retrieved the recipe from a shelf above the stove, then handed it to him. “Tell Carly if she has any questions to feel free to call me.”
    “I’ll tell her,” Trooper said.
    As he approached Carly’s front door a few minutes later, he wondered if he should have called first. If Carly was engrossed in her writing, she might not appreciate the interruption.
    But he wasn’t willing to turn around and go back without at least ringing the doorbell. Besides, he really did want to see her.

    * * *
    A fter making her usual Sunday morning call to her parents, Carly had settled down at the computer to tackle her writing again. After a short struggle with a difficult scene, she was able to complete it and move on to a part of the chapter where the words flowed easily. Soon she was totally immersed in the story.
    Then the doorbell rang.
    Glancing at the clock on the top of her screen, Carly saw that she hadn’t moved from the keyboard in hours. She was tired, and she was hungry. She quickly saved her work and put her computer to sleep.
    The bell had rung a second time before she could get to the front door. This was unusual, her having company in the middle of the afternoon.
    Then she remembered that Myrna had said she’d send Trooper over with the chicken salad recipe.
    She paused to glance at herself in the mirror in the hall tree and stifled a groan. Why did she always look her worse when Trooper appeared at her front door?
    She shrugged. It was too late to do anything about that now. She glanced through the sidelight to be sure it was Trooper, then opened the door.
    He held up an index card. “I come bearing a recipe.”
    “Great. Come in.” Carly stepped back and waited until he was in the hallway, then closed the door. “I appreciate your bringing that over. You didn’t have to, though. I told Myrna I’d come pick it up.”
    “It was no trouble. Wow! Your house sure feels cool. Are you enjoying your air conditioners?”
    “Immensely. It’s really nice and cool toward the back of the house. Would you like to sit in the breakfast nook and cool off for a while?”
    “Sounds great.”
    Delighted that he’d agreed, Carly motioned for him to follow her when she turned and led the way toward the kitchen. “Would you like to join me for a sandwich? I got immersed in my writing and didn’t realize until you rang the bell that I hadn’t eaten any lunch.”
    “No thanks. I just finished a huge meal. I’ll have a glass of water with you if that’s okay.”
    “Certainly. Have a seat and I’ll get your drink.” Carly pulled a water pitcher out of the refrigerator along with some sandwich makings. She poured Trooper a glass of water and carried it to him. “Did Myrna cook a big lunch today?”
    “On the contrary. Since I was going to be out, she asked me to bring her lunch from Simpson Diner south of town. Have you eaten there?”
    Carly paused to think a second. “No, I don’t think so. The name doesn’t ring a bell. What sort of food do they serve?”
    “Fried,” Trooper said with a hint of a smile. “They serve fried food.”
    Carly pulled a couple of slices of bread out of the bag and placed them on a plate, then looked at him with brows raised in a question. “Fried what?”
    “Fried everything.” Then he laughed. “I exaggerate. Today’s lunch was country-fried chicken. The side items weren’t fried. They were only floating in butter.”
    “Good grief.” Carly grinned at his expression. “So, do you eat there often?” Then she grimaced. “Sorry! I know you don’t. I mean, I know you haven’t