Tom Langdon, a weary and cash-strapped journalist, is banned from flying when a particularly thorough airport security search causes him to lose his cool. Now, he must take the train if he has any chance of arriving in Los Angeles in time for Christmas with his girlfriend. "Evokes the glamour of classic romances."― People "Wonderful characters...all touched by the miracle of the Christmas season."― Houston Home Journal "The makings of a classic...don't miss this delightful book."― Southern Pines Pilot "An enjoyable journey...'All aboard!'" ― Orlando Sentinel "Heartwarming...a sweet holiday tale." ― Booklist "Heartwarming...a touching, morally uplifting tale." ― Fort Worth Star-Telegram DAVID BALDACCI is a global #1 bestselling author, and one of the world's favorite storytellers. His books are published in over forty-five languages and in more than eighty countries, with 150 million copies sold worldwide. His works have been adapted for both feature film and television. David Baldacci is also the cofounder, along with his wife, of the Wish You Well Foundation, a nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting literacy efforts across America. Still a resident of his native Virginia, he invites you to visit him at DavidBaldacci.com and his foundation at WishYouWellFoundation.org. The Christmas Train By David Baldacci Grand Central Publishing Copyright © 2013 David Baldacci All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-4555-8197-9 CHAPTER 1 Tom Langdon was a journalist, a globetrotting one, because it was in his bloodto roam widely. Where others saw only instability and fear in life, Tom feltgraced by an embracing independence. He'd spent the bulk of his career inforeign lands covering wars, insurrections, famines, pestilence, virtually everyearthly despair. His goal had been relatively simple: He had wanted to changethe world by calling attention to its wrongs. And he did love adventure. However, after chronicling all these horrific events and still seeing theconditions of humanity steadily worsen, he'd returned to America filled withdisappointment. Seeking an antidote to his melancholy he'd started writingdrearily light stories for ladies' magazines, home-decorating journals, gardendigests, and the like. However, after memorializing the wonders of compost andthe miracle that was do-it-yourself wood flooring, he wasn't exactly fulfilled. It was nearing Christmas, and Tom's most pressing dilemma was getting from theEast Coast to Los Angeles for the holidays. He had an age-old motivation for thejourney; in LA was his girlfriend, Lelia Gibson. She'd started out as a movieactress, but after years of appearing in third-rate horror films she'd begundoing voiceover work. Now, instead of being cinematically butchered for herdaily bread, she supplied the character voices for a variety of enormouslypopular Saturday-morning cartoons. In the children's television industry it wasaccepted that no one belted out the voices of goofy woodland creatures withgreater flair and versatility than golden-piped Lelia Gibson. As proof, she hada shelf full of awards, an outrageously large income, and a healthy share ofsyndication rights. Tom and Lelia had hit it off on an overnight flight from Southeast Asia to theStates. At first he thought it might have been all the liquor they drank, butwhen that buzz burned off a couple hours out of LA, she was still beautiful andinteresting—if a little ditzy and eccentric—and she still seemedattracted to him. He stayed over in California and they got to know each othereven better. She visited him on the East Coast, and they'd been a comfortable ifinformal bi-coastal item ever since. It might seem strange that a successful Hollywood lady would go for a nomadicgent who ran through passports like water, could spout off funny if lewd phrasesin thirty languages, and never would be financially secure. Yet Lelia had tiredof the men in her circle. As she diplomatically explained it once, they werecomplete and total lying scum and unreliable to boot. Tom was a newsman, shesaid, so at least he occasionally dealt with the truth. She also loved hisrugged good looks. He took that to mean the deep lines etched on his face fromreporting in windswept desert climates with bullets flying. In fact his face wasmore often than not down in the sand in observance of local safetyregulations. She listened with rapt attention to Tom's tales of covering major stories aroundthe globe. For his part, he observed with admiration the professional way Leliawent about her loony-voice career. And they didn't have to live together year-round—a decided advantage, Tom believed, over the complex hurdles facingcouples who actually cohabitated. He'd been briefly married but had never had kids. Today his exwife wouldn'taccept a collect call from him if he were hemorrhaging to death on the street.He was forty-one and had just lost his mother to a stroke; his father had beendead for several years. Being an only child, he w