Christmas Hearts in July Read online

  Selene could not wait to get out of there. The party had soured and all she wanted was to cry in Craig’s arms. “Then, I shall be off. Need to start packing for my mystery vacation.”

  Chapter 2

  Jolene Sumpter arrived at her comfy apartment after eight straight days of traveling the globe. As a flight attendant, she’d seen sunrises and sunsets, mountaintops, blue skies and turbulent grey ones – all from the inside cabin of a commercial jet plane. She’d also rushed through many foreign airports, hopping from plane to plane, or tucked in tiny cubicles to sleep the few hours of free time away. Yet, in all the time spent in the exotic countries that she’d landed in on this round of trips, she’d only managed one occasion to grab some personal time, and took a cab to explore Spain’s famous marketplace.

  After two years of experiencing, what she’d expected to be the fulfillment of her life’s passion, she sensed dissatisfaction with her career choice, and had become physically drained as a result of its topsy-turvy timetable. It felt as if her existence hung from fragile threads, swinging in motion, while waiting to disconnect and send her floundering into unknown depths.

  Her heart wasn’t doing much better. She’d dumped the best man she’d ever known – her reasoning quite selfless and noble, but, nonetheless, hammered with emotional potholes. It wasn’t fair to expect a man’s dating life to coincide with her short times at Sebring’s home base. Now, her future loomed like an empty, solitary shell, and she secretly longed for the days of running barefoot on the beach with the man who haunted her dreams, day and night.

  And to beat it all, her father had gone to the justice of the peace and tied the knot with a woman only ten years older than she. All in her absence. Jolene was his only daughter and he had stayed single the entire time she grew up – daddy and his little girl were inseparable. Until he hit some sort of identity crisis at age forty and started dating young women. He did not bring any home or arrange special family dinners to include them in their circle of two. He’d claimed that dating was all fun and games – nothing to concern herself about. He’d declared that Jolene was irreplaceable, the only girl in the world who truly mattered to him. What daughter didn’t want to hear that – even a single, grown-up girl?

  So, it went without saying, that when she received the face-time call while in London, England a few days ago, Jolene had been blown away. The bride was a postcard beauty, but better than that, she had principles, and had convinced her father of his need for God. He’d ran to the altar, and Jolene’s heart burst with gratitude that the Word seeds she’d planted and watered in his soul over the years had finally paid off. New love had brought in the harvest of Jolene’s labor and although she was ecstatic, a tiny twinge of jealousy crept in to taint the victory.

  That’s why the announcement of their marriage had floored her – two milestone events in her father’s life had occurred, and he’d done them both without her. The happy couple had recited their vows, at a chapel in Las Vegas, and were now racing off to some honeymoon paradise.

  After never knowing a mother figure in her twenty-three years, Jolene now had a stepmother, barely ten years her senior. She was at a loss as to how to take the surprising news while at work thousands of miles away in the United Kingdom; let alone shoulder the disappointment of being excluded from their special day. Jolene had not met the lady, the one who now shared her last name.

  Father casually arranged a time next month for them all to dine at the Rib House, his favorite spot to eat on his sporadic visits back to their small town of Sebring. A grin covered her face as she unlocked the door and stepped inside her apartment. His new wife did not appear the type to relish chewing on juicy baby ribs, dripping barbeque sauce all over that snow-white complexion. She could not imagine the Barbie-doll sucking the red syrup off the tips of those long slender fingers, with fears of damaging the perfectly manicured multi-colored painted nails. The ironic thing was her father’s wife’s name was Barbie. How would she ever keep a straight face long enough to address her as such? Maybe she’d expect the respectable, stepmother title – but that certainly wasn’t happening on her shift.

  Jolene wheeled her suitcase into the bedroom and plunked on the easy chair close to her window. Gazing out the window, she yawned. It was an uphill battle to catch up on her much-needed sleep. Time scheduled haphazardly over day and night shifts collapsed into a twenty-four-hour period with no set perimeters. Her body had trouble readjusting, adding to the confusion of why she did this for a living.

  When Jolene found herself dozing, she bounced to her feet. She would not waste any of the precious holiday she’d booked. Although sleeping for an entire week suited her frame of mind at the moment.

  In the kitchen, she thawed a couple pieces of rye bread from a loaf in the freezer, and made a peanut butter and jam sandwich – a staple which never went bad while she was gone for long periods of time. Would she eat out tonight or go grocery shopping? Carrying a can of soda pop and the snack plate, she went into the living room. She noted the huge pile of mail on the table by the door. Grabbing it, she relaxed in her comfy armchair and kicked it back into a reclining position to lounge the evening away. Sighing, she confirmed that, yes, she’d not be dining out or shopping tonight.

  The neighbor collected her mail and watered the plants in her apartment when Jolene worked away from home. She’d have to pick up another gift card at the donut shop a few doors down – the woman was a die-hard patron and spent a lot of free time there, browsing the net or visiting with friends but always nibbling on their delicious desserts. Simone refused to take any money for the neighborly kindness she provided for Jolene, but could never pass up a pre-paid card for the Donut Hole.

  Jolene shuffled through the mountain of mail. She’d had a birthday while she was gone; turned the ripe old age of twenty-three, and friends and relatives had bombarded her with cards. Grinning at the messages of love written long-hand, Jolene wondered why she’d succumbed to replacing the good-feeling of snail mail greetings with the ease of technology that sent quickie messages via airwaves. It was the same as giving store-bought gifts as opposed to the home-made ones she so appreciated. People called her old-fashioned but she considered that a coveted compliment.

  The message on a manilla envelope caught her attention, “Happy Birthday – Christmas in July”. In the left-hand corner, she chuckled at the seasonal Santa tag with the home address of the jolly lady from the North Pole. Who was playing a prank on her now? She ripped the seal open and peeked inside.

  “Oh, my,” she squealed as she withdrew a beautiful blue heart-shaped ornament, made of ornate flowers and sprinkled with glittery diamonds – probably not the real thing, but, nonetheless, it shone bright and cheered her weary soul. For Jolene, it wasn’t about the monetary value that a real gem might offer as much as the thought that went behind the gift. When she examined it closely, she noticed the one side had a thin slice and sighed. Just her luck that the mail service had broken the heart; a close reminder of the frail condition of hers. She put the ornament on the table beside her and looked inside the envelope again.

  A short greeting was written in beautiful script on a blue piece of Christmas stationary. It read: Hearts are not broken, but need intertwined, to beat the rhythm of a love sublime. Seek and ye shall find.

  No one signed the riddle and Jolene’s curiosity piqued as she opened the thick package and emptied the contents in her lap. A colorful brochure, advertising the Heritage Inn and Resort, captured her interest immediately. The sandy beach, the calm lake, boats and trails and a historic lighthouse to shine its light over the area.

  Pineville was the nearest town, and both locations were winding up to begin their yearly tribute to Christmas in July. The entire month, every store and café mentioned in the ad was in on the fun offering festive specials. The coming week was the kick-off dance and a fair. Jolene loved Christmas! What a splendid way to spend her week off. Not to undervalue the main attraction – the lure of the Love Owls living in t
he barn, which laid claim to adding a touch of romance and magic to the Inn. She could use a dose of that.

  This was a sought-after location for vacationers and chances of her securing a room at the last minute was nil-to none. She noticed a photo-copy sheet, and gasped. On it was recorded a confirmation number for a seven day stay at the resort – the exact number of days she had off work. The registration was listed for Jolene Sumpter, and signed by Mrs. Claus – Merry Christmas in July.

  The source of the package had to be a joke from one of her well-meaning friends, or her father, who might be too embarrassed to sign his own name after his apparent neglect of their yearly birthday dinner. No, couldn’t be him; he’d want the recognition. So, perhaps an anonymous birthday gift from someone else – although that special occasion was never mentioned in the notes, only Christmas. Did anyone she knew celebrate Christmas in July?

  Jolene sighed. What did it matter? She could definitely handle down-time and try as she might to cast it off as nonsense, the idea stuck. She scooped up the phone and called the number on the pamphlet. A woman’s voice answered on the other end.

  “Good afternoon, Heritage Inn and Resort. This is Angie, how may I help you?” The voice was young and Jolene was drawn to her immediately.

  “I was just wondering the hours designated for check in.”

  “It is usually between three in the afternoon and six, but there is someone inside the Inn that can get you settled if you need to arrive after that. Are you registered?” Angie asked.

  Her question exactly, but she didn’t say it aloud. She checked the date on the letter. “Jolene Sumpter for tomorrow afternoon.” Wow – tomorrow – how perfect was that. Pineville was only a five-hour drive from home.

  “Yes, I see you here. Do you need to arrive late?” the woman on the other end of the phone asked.

  “I think I can make it before six,” Jolene said. “Thank you for your time and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Looking forward to spending Christmas in July with you, Miss Sumpter.”

  Jolene hung up and stared at the bundle in her lap. She was going on a holiday, and suddenly her spirits lifted from the doldrums to eagerness. Perhaps it was the idea of Christmas. It always managed to spark new hope and life inside her. She typed the address into the G.P.S. on her cell phone, then stuffed the papers back into the manilla envelope.

  What to do first? Relief flooded her that she actually had something to do for the next week. She went to Donut Hole and ordered a large container of broccoli soup with whole wheat bread to go, and purchased the gift card for her neighbor. Before going inside her apartment, she knocked on number 312, and Simone answered.

  “You’re home,” she said. “Did you find everything all right?”

  “Perfect as usual,” Jolene said. “I had some unexpected good news – a birthday present, of sorts. I am booked at a resort for an entire week, so I won’t be staying home. Can I bother you to continue picking up my mail and give my plants your usual green magic-touch?”

  “Certainly; I’m stuck here anyway. It gives me a purpose to my day,” Simone said.

  Jolene refrained from hugging the woman – she was so excited. Instead, she pushed the gift card toward her. “Well, enjoy more trips to your favorite haunt, on me.”

  “Oh, dear, you spoil this old lady. Doctor says sugar is not good for me, but what does he know? I’m addicted and not going to meet my Maker one day before He plans.”

  “That’s a good attitude, Simone.” Jolene lifted her take-out bag. I’m going to eat this delicious soup, then start to pack. Not at all what I planned to do this evening but I find myself rather excited about the adventure.”

  “You have a nice time, dear. You work too hard.” The spunky old lady grinned. “Maybe you’ll find yourself a man to keep you home more often.”

  “I had one of those,” Jolene said as she shrugged her shoulders. “Gave him away.”

  “Well there’s more than him out there,” Simone said as she sniffed the air. “I think I like the smell of your soup. I might take this card and get myself a bowl, and maybe a cookie too.”

  The rest of the evening was a blur. Jolene kept pinching herself to see if she was dreaming. Beach attire, a jogging suit, exercise shorts, clothes for town trips, hikes, and summer dresses for social events or dining out, and a cowboy outfit she threw together for the themed country-Christmas dance in Pineville. She’d grown tired of wearing uniforms almost from day one on the job, so she found herself overpacking, but having a blast imagining the opportunities to wear normal attire. She added dress pants, capris, jeans and an assortment of tops and at the last minute squeezed in two favorite sweaters for cooler evenings. Toiletries and undergarments went in the smaller carry-on with her kindle and a couple softcover romances for the beach. Jolene saw the benefit of digital books in saving space in a physical library at home, but she still loved the feel of turning paper pages. A hopeless old-fashioned romantic her father had said many times. Yet, here she was: twenty-three, single, with no prospects in sight. So much for romance.

  When she snuggled herself beneath the sheets that night, she felt an excitement she could not fully comprehend. It was deeper than simply going to a resort – she’d done that many times with her father. Maybe it was the mystery of going as a guest of Mrs. Claus that got her heart pumping. Whatever it was, it felt good to be alive.

  Chapter 3

  The cab pulled up in front of Heritage Inn and Craig nudged Selene awake. “We’re here, sleepyhead.”

  She moaned, stretched and opened her eyes. “Did I fall asleep again?”

  “Sure did, snored all the way from the airport. Must be the company you keep,” Craig said glibly.

  “That’s not true, Craig. I must be more exhausted than I thought. My body is still in shut-down mode.”

  “I hope not. I saw paddle boats and canoes at the dock when we drove by.”

  “Canoes? No way – you’d just tip me in the water and think it was fun.”

  “Not me. I promise to be the perfect gentleman; do all the rowing and let you stretch out in the sunshine, and sleep.” Craig tried to hide the disappointment and wondered if his city girl was going to drag around all week.

  She smiled appreciatively and kissed his cheek. “Now that’s what I wanted to hear.”

  He paid the taxi driver and got out of the car. When she remained seated, he came around and opened her door, ushering her into the bright sunny afternoon. She feigned blindness and pulled her sunglasses out of her enormous purse. “It’s hot. I sure hope they have air-conditioning.”

  “Of course they do,” Craig said. “It is a five-star resort. I understand people come from all over the world.”

  “Perhaps a dashing Italian will be here,” she teased. “I’ve heard they know how to treat a woman and make a vacation one to remember.”

  He stared at her in surprise. She had no filter and seemed oblivious that she might be stepping on his feelings. He tried a comeback.

  “And maybe there is some country gal-next-door type who knows how to embrace mother nature and have a bit of fun.”

  That got her attention. “Don’t start on me, Craig. I’m here to unwind after the enormous disappointment I suffered at work. Where has my last-fan-standing gone?”

  “So, we’re here to simply wallow in yesterday, when this wonderful Inn has so much to offer? Is that your idea of fun?”

  “No! I noticed a spa, and the brochure says an excellent chef provides a fine dining experience. And look,” she pointed, “A yacht – well sort of – at least a vessel bigger than the canoe you offered. Big boats are more my style.”

  Craig was not surprised. “We can do both.” He moved to the trunk and retrieved their bags just as the bell-boy arrived at the vehicle.

  “Welcome to Heritage Inn and Resort, sir. I will bring your bags inside. Registration is in the main foyer just inside those doors.”

  “Thank you,” Craig said, as Selene nudged him while patting the wal
let in his rear pocket. He pulled it out and gave the man a bill, and then looked at the woman by his side with annoyance. Did she think he knew nothing about tipping?

  As they approached the entrance he took in the grandeur of this historical colonial building. The bright splashes of trim colors and the gardens in full bloom, helped to dispel the foul mood that was settling into his being. He opened the huge door and the inside equally captured his interest. Old architecture was his secret passion and every detail of this resort oozed with it.

  Again, Selene nudged him. “There is the registration desk,” she pointed. “I hope all this wood doesn’t set off my allergies. I prefer marble; its much more elegant. You’d have thought the real Mrs. Claus would have known that and sent us somewhere exotic. I’m beginning to think this gift was from Steven just to get rid of me.”

  “I thought work was a forbidden subject this week,” Craig reminded her.

  “Whatever,” she groaned. “Just find out where we’re staying. I want to soak in the tub for at last an hour. Airplane seats are so cramped.”

  Within a few minutes, they headed upstairs. A stately-looking couple were heading down at the same time and Craig watched as the man’s face turned a ghostly white. He bounded up the four steps and took his arm to steady him. “Are you okay, sir?”

  The man, probably in his mid forties, appeared to recover as the gorgeous woman at his side fussed.

  “Yes, just a bit light-headed. Thank you, young man for your concern.”

  He reached out his hand in greeting. “The name’s Craig Landers. And this is my girlfriend, Selene. Just checking in for the week.”

  The woman took over the conversation as the man seemed to be at a loss for words again. “My name is Barbie, and Trace, my newlywed husband, who undoubtedly has had a bit too much sun on our honeymoon.”

  “Congratulations. You chose a wonderful place to spend your honeymoon,” Craig said. Selene poked mercilessly at his back and flashed her pearly white smile to the couple facing them. Craig got the message. “We need to get unpacked so we can start exploring. Have a nice day.” He turned to Selene. “Ready?”