asked with little interest. Kathy Lou talked nonstop; how she could run on.
Kathy Lou stopped scrubbing and leaned toward Carrie confidentially. “My niece is going to try to get herself a part. Wouldn’t that be something? Mikaila Parker from Yewville, South Carolina, in an honest-to-goodness Hollywood movie?”
“Mmm,” Carrie said absently, wondering if she should close the station and haul Hub with her out to the bypass after she dropped the boys off at their grandparents’ house. She and Hub could call Shasta; they could whistle. Maybe they’d even find her alive and well, thumping her tail in someone else’s dust.
Kathy Lou was still talking. “You get paid by the day. For being in the movie, I mean. If they pick you, that is. Big Jessie is going to take Little Jessie for an interview so she can sing “Tomorrow” from that play. Annie. Little Jessie already got her a part in the parade twirling her baton, but Big Jessie says she’s got more talent than that.”
“Um, yes, indeed,” Carrie murmured, though the specter of Little Jessie decked out as Little Orphan Annie and twirling her baton while singing an off-key rendition of “Tomorrow” tended to curdle the ice cream in her stomach.
“You should aim for a speaking part, Carrie. You and Dixie. Either one of you girls is pretty enough to be a movie star. And Dixie’s already been chosen to be a beauty contestant, I hear.”
“She can get off work at the real-estate office to be in the movie, but I have a garage to run. Jamie, hurry up and finish your cone. Your grandma is going to worry about what happened to us.”
“Like I’m worried what happened to Shasta,” Jamie said disconsolately. He kicked his heels against the bottom of his seat.
“I wonder where that dog’s gone. Dog gone. Doggone, Jamie, get it?” Mike said.
This ended the morning on a slightly cheerful note. The boys wiped their hands obediently with the damp napkin that Carrie dipped in her water glass and uncomplainingly left their seats when she said it was time to leave.
“Bye, Carrie,” Kathy Lou called after them.
“Bye,” Carrie called back.
Carrie shepherded the boys out of the restaurant. She certainly didn’t want a speaking part in the movie. But she sure would have liked to know where Shasta had disappeared to.
LATER THE SAME AFTERNOON, Carrie was setting her vegetables out on the table in front of the station, when she spotted the Ferrari coming down the street, convertible top down. The car didn’t really register at first. She was sick at heart because there was still no sign of Shasta. Out on the bypass, she and Hub had explored every cul-de-sac, but they had seen no sign of the pup. At least they hadn’t found her dead on the side of the road.
The Ferrari’s turn signal was blinking, and the car slowed in front of the station. Carrie rushed through her task, meaning to go inside. Luke Mason could pump his own gas. She didn’t want to be involved in any discussion about what had happened out behind the refreshment stand the other day, nor did she think it would be a good idea to engage in more kissing. The trouble was that she wanted to. But she wasn’t going to give in to unwieldy desires. She had her principles.
She started inside, telling herself that it wasn’t the man who was the big attraction, only his car. She sneaked a peek at the Ferrari out of the corners of her eyes. She couldn’t believe it when there was Shasta, sitting on the front seat big as you please.
“Shasta!” she cried, so glad to see the dog that she wanted to hug her. While Luke Mason gazed at her from behind his sunglasses, she hurried over. It was Shasta, all right, no mistake about that. No mistake about Luke, either. “What are you doing with this dog?” she demanded as he got out of his car in a leisurely manner. He wasn’t smiling, so maybe he’d had the same second thoughts as she had about that kiss.
“I’m bringing the dog back. How could you leave her outside after you closed for the day? Something could have happened to her.” He sounded angry.
She glared at him. “She’s not my dog. I feed her and give her water, and I’m trying to find her a good home. I don’t suppose you’d be interested,” she suggested pointedly.
At that, Luke backed off a bit. “I can’t have a dog, but I can certainly provide temporary quarters when an animal is being mistreated,” he said self-righteously.
“Shasta is not mistreated. She’s homeless, that’s all. Has she been with you all night? I’ve searched everywhere for her.” She figured she had at least as much right to be angry as Luke Mason.
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