Free california christmas dreams by J. M. Jeffries

minute she blossomed, her career went away and she couldn’t manage the change. A lot of child actors get lost and never recover. My parents kept me grounded, and every day I feel lucky.”
    “Are you saying you’re lucky to have survived your career or not to have had a longer one?”
    “Both,” she said. “Turn right at the next light.”
    People walked along the sidewalks carrying picnic baskets and towels over their arms, wearing big-brimmed hats that shaded their faces. He could smell the salt in the air; seagulls floated overhead.
    “Turn down that alley,” she said.
    “But there’s no parking,” he protested as he turned into an alley shaded by large palm trees swaying in the ocean breeze. Carports opened onto the alley. He glimpsed tiny yards. The salt smell of the ocean was stronger than before, and he knew they were a block, maybe two, from the beach and that this area was prime real estate.
    She directed him to a covered carport halfway down the alley.
    “We can’t park here. This is private property,” he said, though the thought of trying to find parking in a public lot would be daunting on a day like this.
    “This is my grandparents’ house. Trust me, we’ll be fine, and at the same time I’ll find you something to wear besides a black suit.”
    He parked his Mercedes in the carport and she jumped out of the car, a set of keys in her hand. “I come here all the time. They won’t mind.”
    Inside, the cottage was small but tidy. Painted in soothing blues and grays, the furnishings were a little worn but comfortable. The rooms smelled a little musty, but Merry cranked open the windows and fresh air, along with the scent of some flower, blew in and freshened the room.
    “Now,” she said, hands on her hips as she studied him, “to find you something to wear.”
    “Nothing too loud.” Visions of plaid shorts and a blaring orange shirt filled his head.
    “My grandfather is very conservative.”
    “Then nothing too old man,” he replied, thinking he would come out smelling like mothballs.
    Merry laughed as she walked down a narrow hallway. He stepped into the small living room. Four overstuffed chairs skirted a coffee table and shared space with a baby grand piano that barely left any room to maneuver. Behind the piano, sliding doors opened onto a large patio so overgrown with bushes and flowers he thought it was a jungle. On top of the piano were dozens of photos in plain frames. He glanced through them and saw Merry and her sister in various stages of growth, from babyhood to college graduations.
    “Jake,” Merry called.
    He stepped into the hall and she stood at the end in front of an open door. She held khaki shorts and a purple-and-yellow Hawaiian shirt.
    “No on the shirt,” Jake said.
    “Come help me,” she said.
    He stepped toward her. At the end of the hallway, he glimpsed a bright kitchen that was large and comfortable, and he instantly knew that this room was the real gathering place in the house, with its modern appliances, granite countertops and island with stools situated around it. A fireplace in the corner was flanked by a small sofa and matching chairs.
    He followed her into a small, cozy bedroom decorated in green with a fireplace that was shared with the kitchen and a large bed with a bench at the foot.
    “Something in white,” he said when she pulled out another Hawaiian shirt, only slightly less loud than the first one.
    Merry laughed again. She pulled out a white, short-sleeved pullover and tossed it to him. “The bathroom is through there.” She left, closing the door after her.
    He didn’t feel comfortable in such casual clothes, but he knew he’d start to broil in his black suit once he was out in the sun. He neatly hung his suit coat, shirt and pants over a small wooden valet in a corner of the bedroom and donned the clothes she’d given him.
    When he walked back into the living room, she was rummaging in another closet, and finally pulled out what she