Christmas Owls in July (Ornamental Match Maker Series Book 19) Read online

  “Not at all.”

  They began to stroll, and after a few minutes of silence, Angie filled in the awkward gap. She pointed to a rock plateau. “See that lighthouse out there? The town built it hundreds of years ago, long before my descendants purchased Heritage Inn.”

  “Why did they need a lighthouse here?”

  “The lake is deep, twisting and turning through rivers across the countryside. In times of conflict, the military used the inlands, especially Pineville to keep out unwanted tyrants that tried to sneak in the country via the back door, so to speak. It was all about gaining land, and this area was an opening to greater and easier takeovers.”

  “Interesting.” Trevor looked behind him. “And your Inn, I might add, is a work of art. You could charge admission. Historians from around the world would come here just to see it.”

  “Yes, many appreciate its uniqueness. But for me, it’s just home. I’ve lived here all my life.”

  “Lucky you. I love the bright colors and the wrap-around porch. Always wanted one of those.” Trevor stared at the Inn that loomed behind the sheltering hedge, accented by thick green grass and a flower display that created a garden paradise.

  Angie thought of all the places of interest he must have seen over the years and wondered that her home would bring such a worldly man’s face such joy. “Seems to me you are the lucky one – traveling the countryside and arranging wonderful vacations for your clientele.”

  “Sure, I’ve seen a lot, but according to my mother, I lack roots,” Trevor said.

  “Sounds like something a mother would say.”

  “Where are your parents? I’ve only seen you and Charles doing all the work around here?”

  Calmly Angie answered. “They went on a vacation last year and never returned. Appeared the Good Lord wanted to take them to heaven. Too soon for my liking.”

  “I’m sorry. I should learn to mind my own business.” Trevor fidgeted and looked every bit as uncomfortable as Angie felt.

  She bore a brave face and continued. “It was an honest observation. I’ve had to tell many of our regulars about the tragedy and others like you who think a young lady should not run such a grand enterprise by herself.”

  “I never said that.” Trevor jumped to his defense. “You seem to be quite capable. Just look at me, nothing to do but walk the beaches on a workday. That says a lot about your abilities to show your guests a good time.”

  “Redeemed yourself with flattery.” Angie smiled. “I can live with that.”

  “I have lots more where that came from,” said Trevor, a wide grin growing on his face.

  “That’s enough for now, sir.” Angie turned back the way they’d come. “I need to get back and finish this week’s payroll. When the last group canceled, my staff hoped for a few days off to enjoy the Christmas event in town. But your call changed that. We’ve refocused, and now they are planning what to do with all the extra money they’ll make instead.”

  “I’m sorry if we complicated things. I can fully sympathize with you when it comes to surprises in business,” said Trevor.

  “A welcome surprise. We love that people come to enjoy time at Heritage Inn. That’s what it’s here for,” said Angie.

  “I hope most of your employees will attend the dance. Sounds like folks hereabout look forward to the event.”

  “Yes. The resort will have a skeleton crew on tonight. Believe it or not, I found a few who don’t care about dancing or Christmas – I’m not sure which.”

  When Angie turned to walk up the beach toward the Inn, she glanced back. “If you try skiing behind the boat this afternoon, don’t break a foot. It sort of hinders the dance moves.”

  Trevor laughed and headed back toward his lounger.

  Late that afternoon, Angie found herself far too hyped to get any additional work done. The dance loomed in her mind. Most of the evening, she’d be free to mingle, dance, and socialize with friends from town. Her only responsibility was the initial main judging – the choosing of this month’s Claus couple.

  Angie left the Inn before they served supper in the dining hall to begin her set-up. She pushed down the legs of a six-foot plastic table and situated it across from center-stage. After throwing a red-skirted cloth over it, Angie placed in the middle the coveted crowns – red, green and blue – fake, but huge jewels, set within a gold-colored base. They’d designed them to sit on the heads of two hard-working teens. She then moved three chairs to the back where the judges sat. From a tote, she shook out the red suits of velvet and white fur and hung the outfits on two separate hangers, one for a girl and the other a boy. They lay flat against the wall behind the judge’s table, displayed proudly for all the eager participants.

  Angie jumped at the sound of a voice behind her. “This is where you disappeared.”

  She twirled around to face Trevor. “Well, hello. The dance doesn’t start for another couple of hours. I want to get my table all arranged before I grab a bite.”

  “I haven’t eaten either. Perhaps you know of a good place? Or better yet, maybe allow me to dine with you?”

  “Nothing quite so elaborate as dining. Just a burger and fries at the Hop Shop.”

  “Even better,” Trevor said. He looked around the empty room. “Is there anything I can help you with beforehand? You seem abandoned.”

  “Not at all. Some was done before I arrived and the last-minute people will arrive to finish the last of it while I eat. The townsfolk share in the work, as well as the play.” Angie took two steps back and pointed to the table. “What do you think? This is where the judges will make their final choices for the reigning couple.”

  “It screams Christmas, that’s for sure,” said Trevor.

  “Oh, not yet. I haven’t even opened my box of ornamental goodies.” Angie pulled it from under the table and unfolded the flaps. She sat on the floor, patting the spot next to her. “Come see.”

  He seemed reluctant to join her so she buried her head in the box and removed the tissue-wrapped packages, laying them on the floor beside her. Trevor bent, picked them up and put them on the table.

  “Thanks,” she said as she bounced to her feet.

  Angie dragged out a tote from under the cloth, and from inside withdrew two small artificial, pine trees. She placed one on the far end of the table and began to stretch the branches to make it appear full and appealing. Trevor grabbed the other and did the same. She looked down the length of the table and watched his expression change with the touch of each pine branch. What was going on inside that mind of his? Such a torrent of emotions. She decided to test the waters to see if her first impressions had been accurate.

  “Do you like the Christmas season, Trevor?”

  His eyes darkened, and she saw shadows try to steal any sparks of joy that peeked through his defense armor. His initial response of displeasure in being put on the spot smoothed into a more polite expression.

  “My mother is the queen of Christmas,” he said.

  “Oh? Like Mrs. Claus?”

  “Don’t give her any ideas. She hasn’t claimed that title yet.”

  “She sounds delightful,” said Angie.

  “She is. Just a mite pushy sometimes.”

  Angie laughed. “That’s a mother’s job. Didn’t you know?”

  “You must miss your parents help during the busiest season of the year.” Trevor stated it as an obvious fact rather than a question.

  Angie took a deep breath and said, “My parents lived and breathed Heritage Inn and I miss our united efforts here, any time of the year. It’s our legacy.”

  “Forgive me. Promise I won’t mention them again. I hate to see the sadness in your eyes.” Trevor’s gaze dropped to the ornaments. He began to unwrap them.

  “No, on the contrary. It helps to talk about them.” Angie glanced over and noticed the first decoration he’d opened. “That is a town favorite. Supposedly, one of the old-timers, way back when, punched in all the details of the original town hall onto that tin
shape.”

  “It’s so true to the one standing today. I noticed it on my way here,” said Trevor.

  “The people of this town hold a historic passion that many in America have forgotten,” Angie said. “I’m happy to live here. Our past molds us, don’t you think?” Angie asked.

  “I suppose.”

  Well, that was a mountain of enthusiasm, Angie thought. This man was not at all forthcoming about the deep stuff that mattered in life. Perhaps he was a modern traveler, living for today, caring less about yesterday or tomorrow. She would not like to discover that to be true of Trevor Dristoll. It hit her then; she cared. Yes, it was most likely the lost expression he revealed occasionally that drew her. She sighed. Her father had always said she was a sucker for the downtrodden.

  One after another, Angie explained the significance of each ornament. It didn’t take long for Trevor to warm up to the activity. When the last ornament was hung and thin garland wrapped around the strings of lights, Angie stepped back to admire their work.

  “Beautiful! Both trees will draw the crowds to reminisce over past Christmas’ in Pineville.”

  Trevor moved in close beside her. “Agreed; Works of art. Not to diminish my enjoyment in the bonus history lesson of your fair town. Both have definitely given me a hearty appetite for that fast food you were bragging about earlier.”

  Angie gave him a look of horror. “Did I say fast food?”

  “Hamburger and fries? Isn’t that the definition of fast food?”

  “Slow and homemade is more like it. The most delicious you will ever eat, besides at the Inn, of course. Many generations have passed down the ingredients that go into the meat patty at the Hop Shop. The owner prides himself in serving good quality food – fresh fixings only, never frozen. Of course, the fries are debatable, but according to ol’ Sammy, the youngsters demand the fatty stuff.” Angie pushed the box and tote back under the table and slid the cloth to cover them from view. She grabbed Trevor’s hand. “Come on. I’m starving.”

  Somehow the food tasted better than usual at the Hop Shop. The music blared jolly Christmas tunes, and the patrons were working themselves into a party mood. Angie refused to dwell on the possibility she was enjoying the company at her table.

  “Hey, Miss Angie,” a guy untangled himself from a bunch of youth and landed at their table. “I’m in the running for Mr. Claus tonight. Think I have a chance?”

  “We have counted your scores the same as all the other contestants. I have no favorites, John.”

  “Awe, I know that. You’re about as unbiased a person as I’ve ever met.” He glanced at Trevor. “Who’s your friend?”

  Angie smiled. Kids could be so nosy. “Mr. Dristoll is a tour bus guide. His group is staying at the Inn this week and will enjoy the festivities we’ve worked so hard to put in place. So be on your best behavior tonight.”

  “You know me. The life of the party,” said John.

  He rolled his eyes in self-mockery, for everyone knew John was the most serious and responsible student in Pineville, a future politician, and a high contender for Mr. Claus. But she’d not let the cat out of the bag just yet. There were two other judges arriving later.

  “Good luck, tonight, young man,” said Trevor.

  “Going to need it. Too many smarty’s competing in this town.” John waved and sauntered back to the group.

  “He sounds like a sensible young lad. He gets my vote,” said Trevor.

  “Sorry, the crowd does not vote. Three judges choose the winner.”

  “Sounds rigged to me,” Trevor said.

  When he grinned, Trevor’s entire face lit up, and Angie felt a flutter somewhere deep inside her being.

  THE DANCE

  At seven-o’clock, one hour before the crowning of the Claus couple, Angie’s cell phone buzzed. She looked at the caller ID, hoping it was not an emergency at the Inn. She groaned. It was worse. Mr. Sharks should be here by now. A call could only mean trouble for the two judges waiting patiently for his arrival.

  “Hey, where are you?” Angie asked into the receiver. She listened for a moment then spoke. “You can’t be sick!” She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “Of course, you can Mr. Sharks. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

  A few minutes later Angie hung up the phone and faced the bystanders waiting for an update. “He’s sick. Been popping pills all day with hopes he’d get better, and now he’s not only sick but sleepy.”

  Mrs. Hodgeson gasped. “Whatever shall we do at the last minute? Angie, surely you have a backup?”

  Angie did not have a backup. No one had ever been a no-show in all the years she’d judged. Her face crumbled as she dropped hard onto the seat.

  Trevor was still hanging around and spoke up. “There’s always me if you’re in a pinch. If you’ll recall, I already have my eyes set on a good pick.”

  Angie looked at Trevor, hopeful, yet guilty, that a guest at her resort would feel the need to help. “Surely you’d rather just unwind and have fun?”

  “I will, afterward, with you, hopefully. I don’t relish dancing with the bunch from my tour bus, and I don’t know anyone else,” said Trevor.

  Angie peered at Mrs. Hodgeson, who stood by silently, a woman of good standing with the community despite her wagging tongue. “What do you think?”

  “About him being a judge or dancing with you?”

  Angie frowned and ignored her scrutiny. “Trevor doesn’t know the contestants. I could show him the score sheets we’ve worked up so far, give him a chance to get to know the qualifications of each contestant. You must admit he will be a fair judge.”

  “He’s better than picking from the vultures out there with their own agenda of who the winner should be.”

  Angie smothered a laugh. “You make it sound like people tar and feather the judges at the end of the event.” She turned her attention back to Trevor. “You needn’t fret about that outcome. Although it is important to reward the right couple, the townsfolk are fairly obliging with our final decision.”

  “After the heckling stops by the sore losers.” Mrs. Hodgeson aimed her focus at Trevor then all too soon lost her attempt at the pun and grinned. “Had you worried, didn’t I, laddie?”

  Angie looked at Trevor and saw a face devoid of anxiety. “I don’t think you scared him off, Mrs. Hodgeson. He looks like the perfect judge to me.” Angie rummaged in her bag and withdrew a small binder. After passing it to Trevor, she nodded to the door. “Follow me.”

  When they arrived outside the public bathrooms, Angie handed him a small sack out of her bag. He grimaced when he peeked inside. “You look far too classy. Not Christmassy enough for this crowd.”

  “I will dress up, not because I particularly want to, but to make you happy,” Trevor said.

  “I appreciate your willingness, but I hope you don’t make a practice of doing things to simply please others. It is far nobler to speak your mind.”

  “I don’t think you want to know my mind. Tonight, I’m choosing to have fun in your company, and not think past that.”

  Angie wasn’t sure she liked that attitude any better. What did it matter? He was here for a week and gone again. She was ready for some fun. It had been far too long since she’d kicked her heels up at a dance hall.

  “Agreed,” Angie said. “Meet you back at the judge’s table. Scan the score sheets while you accessorize.” She pushed the women’s door open and disappeared inside.

  Trevor was hilarious with the judging. His comments to the crowd were witty and festive, while at the same time, passing encouragement on to the contestants. Angie could not help but notice the gradual change in his mindset as the event progressed. Trevor was warming up to the teens of Pineville, and they in turn, accepted the fun-loving stranger in their midst.

  John Saunders was a sure win for Mr. Claus, with a little push in his direction from Trevor, but Mrs. Hodgeson and Angie were at odds about the final two female contestants. Angie tired of the woman’s stubbornness a
nd cast pleading eyes toward Trevor to end the dispute. He leaned close and whispered in her ear.

  “Have you noticed the way the brunette shuns the future Mr. Claus, and the blond seems very interested in pairing up with the fellow? Why don’t you give in to Mrs. Hodgeson and see if young love blossoms between the two teens?”

  Angie peered at the contestants again. She narrowed in on the two girls in question; both equally qualified to be winners tonight. She succumbed when she saw the blonde jump off her stool to retrieve a pen for the chosen Mr. Claus, and the grimace the brunette offered as she rolled her eyes in disgust. Yes, why not get this over with?

  She focused again on Mrs. Hodgeson. “Trevor and I agree on your pick. Let’s announce the winners.”

  The new reigning couple blushed when crowned as winners and fumbled into their Claus Christmas attire. The crowd cheered and music from the band ignited new life into the room. The group dispersed, some youth forming a circle around the wooden dance floor and calling for the Claus couple to get this celebration underway. The winning duo took their place in the center of the ring, shy and self-conscious at first, but soon becoming lost in each other’s eyes, oblivious to the whistles and chants of their peers. Halfway through the first love song, couples began to fill in the empty spaces surrounding them. The merrymaking had begun.

  “I must admit, the Claus couple added a nice touch to the evening,” said Trevor.

  “It would not have turned out nearly so touching if the choice had gone my way. Nice call, Trevor Dristoll. You are quite the romantic.”

  He held up his hands in defense mode. “No way! Romance is definitely not my expertize.” Trevor buckled under her gaze and looked away. It entered Angie’s mind that perhaps a woman had once rejected him. She pulled up sharp, firmly reminding herself that his love life was none of her business.

  “I’m super thirsty. How about you?” Angie asked.

  “Lead the way.”

  They moved to a table full of beverage options, all non-alcoholic. Those indulging went to the bar for the hard stuff.