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

by Marlene Bierworth

  Christmas Owls

  in July

  Book 19

  Ornamental Match Maker Series

  A special event

  Christmas in July

  By

  Marlene Bierworth

  Copyright © 2019 Marlene Bierworth

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without written permission of the author, Marlene Bierworth, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, character and events are the product of the author’s imagination. While the author has tried to be historically correct, her goals in this book are great characters and storytelling. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locals, is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1 Heritage Inn

  Chapter 2 Guests Arrive

  Chapter 3 Christmas in July

  Chapter 4 The Dance

  Chapter 5 Christmas Treasures

  Chapter 6 The Heritage Queen

  Chapter 7 A Visitor

  Chapter 8 The Secret is Out

  Chapter 9 A Visit to the Owls

  Chapter 10 The Counterpart

  From the Author

  About the series:

  Mrs. Claus is all about spreading Christmas cheer — especially to the many lonely hearts seeking friendship, love, healing, second chances, and that special someone of their own.

  To help each lovely heroine and dashing hero find their perfect match, Mrs. Claus sends them a magical holiday ornament. From a carousel horse that matches the exact horse a hero will be found riding to an iced angel just like the cookies a dreamy chef bakes, each ornament has a real world counterpart that, if followed, will lead to true love. These books are designed to be a fun quick read with a touch of magic and romance.

  From historical to contemporary, from heartfelt to humorous, each of these sweet romance stories ends in a festive happily ever after that will leave you wanting more — so be sure to check out all the titles by multiple authors in our Ornamental Match Maker Series, by visiting

  https://www.facebook.com/groups/712109532498752/

  About this book:

  This is my 5th contribution to the Ornamental Match Maker series – a contemporary romance. Three new titles available from this author just in this Christmas in July venture alone.

  When Trevor receives the Christmas owl ornament he is doubtful and laughs the love gift off as a sick joke from the North Pole. But his mother is hopeful and slips it into his suitcase as he packs to leave on another tour guide job. Mid way through the month long vacation, he senses his passengers are running out of steam. A quiet beach within a few hours drive and a relaxing stay at Heritage Inn beckons to him as a pleasant solution.

  Angie Parkinson owns Heritage Inn and accepts the newcomers as a last minute replacement for a canceled group. Pleased that Christmas in July would happen as it had every year since her childhood, Angie prepares for their arrival. Little does she suspect that the North Pole has set into motion a chain of events that will open old wounds and bring together the past, present and future. When the barn owls at the resort are thrown into to the mix, the two lonely hearts best guard their hearts, or prepare to be swept into a romance long overdue.

  HERITAGE INN

  Trevor Dristoll was not a man to waste his mind on make-believe. He was far too practical. His mother once labeled him as a boy, stuck in the mud of reality. But Trevor was excellent at his job and hit upon great locations to entertain the high paying clients who traveled on his bus tours. They expected their guide to show them an awesome time, and Trevor never disappointed. They’d just finished visiting a string of national parks, where spectacular views and hiking at strenuous elevations had exhausted everyone. The Grand Canyon had been their last adventure. Now, most of his group wanted to relax somewhere in the fun and sun for a week.

  Trevor scanned the web for something close. A charming and rather large Victorian Inn perched on the banks of a picturesque lake caught his attention. He scanned the list of activities and grinned. He could handle a week of boating, fishing, swimming, and lying on a private sandy beach. The Heritage Inn Resort bordered the quaint town of Pineville. And to start the good times rolling was his least favorite theme, Christmas – in July. How absurd was that? Anymore, he could barely tolerate one tinsel-filled holiday per year, yet here he sat debating on whether he should drag his passengers to this Inn for relaxation.

  Trevor ran a unique business, where his high-paying clientele loved surprises and put themselves totally at his mercy for an entire month. In the past, he’d disappointed none, everyone enjoying the places they visited. Ninety percent signed up for future tours. But he’d never brought them to such an old-fashioned, laid-back resort, as this one appeared to be. Trevor weighed their fatigue against the silliness of the Christmas event. Over the previous two weeks, it had become obvious not everyone aboard the bus was a naturalist or hiker. He needed to set his reservations aside and put it to a vote. When he did, it was unanimous. All thirty wanted to stop, rest, and enjoy Christmas in July.

  The last line of the advertisement brochure nearly caused Trevor to renege on the entire adventure. He threw his hands in the air as he read, the home of the famous love owls. Trevor recalled the item he’d received in the mail before this tour pulled out. He laughed outright. No way! His mother had been so excited and attempted to walk him down a magical, romantic lane of possibilities. Of all the gifts available, the item from of the North Pole – sent by Mrs. Claus, and postmarked to Trevor Dristoll – was a Christmas tree ornament. A girl and boy owl sitting on a branch making whoopee eyes at one another. He’d passed it off as a practical joke, and only after he’d left the house, discovered that his mother had tucked the pair of birds snugly inside his suitcase.

  In his room, Trevor grabbed the padded envelope from the top zipper of his bag. He sighed and sat on the corner of his bed and hit speed dial on his home number. When his mother’s cheery voice answered, he dove right in.

  “Really, Mom? Are you in cahoots with Mrs. Claus?”

  “Whatever are you talking about, Trevor?’

  “I’m looking online for a place nearby where I can give my guests a nice quiet break in the middle of our tour and guess what I found?”

  “No idea.” She attempted to keep her voice matter-of-fact, but Trevor heard the undercurrent of excitement in her tone. It rang through his ear loud and unmistakably obvious.

  “A charming resort packed with the makings of a quiet rest on the beach but only minutes from a town bursting at the seams with festivity.”

  “Sounds like the perfect place to bring your group.” She hesitated. “What exactly are you accusing me of, Son?” Her voice held no apparent misgivings as to her role of interference in his life, only more of her teasing enthusiasm.

  “It so happens the theme this month at the Inn, and the entire town of Pineville, is Christmas in July. Have you ever heard such nonsense?”

  Trevor’s mother squealed. “I love Christmas.”

  “And why you do is beyond me. Considering last year, I’d think the holiday should leave a sour taste even in your mouth. I could definitely do without two in the same year.”

  “Lighten up, Mr. Scrooge,” she said. “Your father loved Christmas. He’d caution you in giving up on the season of hope.” Trevor had to agree
on that point. Braxton Dristoll had led the craze-parade in their home every year with gusto and made sure his family passed along the spirit of Christmas to the less fortunate through acts of kindness. His mother’s voice rattled on with uninterrupted fervor. “I’ll make cookies and send them in the mail, to compensate for your second-rate attitude.”

  “I know my job, Mom. I can smile and go along with just about anything.” Trevor chuckled. “But here’s the amusing part. Are you ready?”

  “Fire away,” she said.

  “Heritage Inn is famous for the pair of owls that live in the barn on the property.”

  “Owls!” Trevor had to push the phone away from his ear. He’d done it now. Sandra Dristoll would never let this coincidence go. “Oh, Trevor, it’s providence! You must visit the owls. Maybe they have a message for you.” She gasped. “Did you say a couple – as in male and female – like your ornament gift from Mrs. Claus?”

  “Settle down, Mom.”

  “Can’t you feel the magic, Trevor? Surely you’re not that hard-hearted. It’s been three years since Gloria kicked you out of her life. It’s time to find that someone special.”

  “And you’ve gained that tremendous foresight from a fluke owl occurrence? No, Mom, there will be no romancing going on at the Inn. I’m working, remember?”

  “Of course, you are, dear.” Trevor suspected she’d tuned him out, already busy contemplating her next strategy. “Give me the address and I’ll mail the cookies. How many are on your bus again?”

  “Thirty. But I haven’t even called the resort yet. There may not be enough rooms available. Don’t go rushing things.”

  “Who me? I’ll bake my favorite cinnamon cookies, and wait for you to text the address.” In the background, Trevor heard her opening and closing cupboards doors. “Gotta run, Son. Don’t forget to unwind and enjoy yourself. Sounds like a mini vacation for you in the middle of a job. Take advantage of unexpected blessings.”

  Trevor listened to the disconnecting click, unable to hold back the smile. His mother was a gem that would never lose its shine. Although his job was vacation-based, he seldom relaxed long enough to enjoy it. Spending time on a beach would do him good. He could easily avoid the Christmas town, and his clients would be free to come and go as they pleased. Yes, it sounded better all the time. He glanced at the marketing folder for the phone number of the resort then made the call. His last thoughts before the cheery voice picked up the line on the other end was that he had absolutely no intention of visiting the famous barn. Two love-struck owls, Mrs. Claus, or his mother were not going to choose the next woman in his life.

  *****

  “You will never guess who that was?” Angie said to the assistant manager at Heritage Inn as she replaced the receiver onto the cradle of the antique desk phone.

  “By the look on your face, I’d say more business,” said Charles.

  “Yes! Isn’t it perfect? The guide of a tour bus needs twenty rooms for his passengers and one each for himself and the driver. They want to stay for at least five days, but we can give them seven if they decide they like it here.”

  “And who doesn’t like it here?” Charles beamed with fatherly pride at the last remaining member of the Parkinson family. He puffed his chest with thankfulness to have worked at this remarkable Inn for twenty years.

  “This is Thursday, and the next influx of scheduled guests don’t arrive until next Friday.” Angie was excited. “These are brand new people to the Inn. We must be overly accommodating to their wants and needs.”

  “As always,” Charles said. “It looks like that little break you were bragging about to the staff just got postponed, indefinitely.”

  “You’re right. I hope it won’t upset the staff.”

  “They all know July is the busiest month in Pineville and at the Inn. The town is gearing up for the opening Christmas dance on Friday night.”

  “Charles,” Angie planned as she spoke. “The group will be here late this afternoon or early evening. We need to get the cleaning staff busy now. All the rooms in the Inn plus the outside cottages need preparing for incoming guests. There are ten couples we can put in their own private spots by the lake and the rest we can house here inside the Inn, including the guide and the bus driver. It’s perfect.”

  “I know you love your job, but Angie, you don’t give yourself enough time off. Life’s too short to work non-stop.” Charles sighed. “But I suppose, new business is always good for long-term growth.”

  “Exactly!” Angie agreed.

  Charles reached for the phone and called, Stacy, the head of housekeeping. Before long, Angie saw girls bustling up and down stairs, the cleanup from the prior group well under way.

  Angie rushed to her office to begin the paperwork. She sat at the same desk her father, Samuel Parkinson, and his father before him had sat. This had been a family business for over eighty years, but the full responsibility had just fallen into her lap this past winter when her parents had died unexpectedly in a car crash. Most of the year was booked a full year in advance but last week one group canceled. They’d lost their deposit and left a seven-day gap on the calendar. She couldn’t be more pleased to have it filled.

  Angie loved the Inn and wanted more than anything to see the heritage continue by watching her own future children grow and take over the business. She chuckled knowing that, at the moment, no love interest loomed on her horizon, and she feared just one glimpse at her busy life would send any decent man running for the hills. Who’d volunteer for this twelve-month craziness besides her? But it was her life, and she’d have it no other way.

  The employees at Heritage Inn scurried around most of the day, preparing the resort to receive the thirty-two guests soon to arrive on their doorstep. She held an early supper and general meeting in the dining room.

  Angie addressed the staff as soon as they cleaned the last morsel from their plates. “Good afternoon. I want to thank you all for pitching in to help today. This booking was a total surprise, but serving people is what we do best at Heritage Inn.”

  They acknowledged Angie with friendly, although tired faces. She continued to build enthusiasm. “We will follow the schedule of events previously planned for the no-show group. One benefit is that instead of setting up the Christmas in July theme ourselves, we can let our guests join in the fun. I’m sure they will enjoy it. Thankfully, Pineville is ready to blast their first town event with a dance tomorrow night. We will encourage our guests to take part in the activities both here and in town. That will take the pressure off staff and provide more than enough fun for the bus group to enjoy.”

  “Will the beach be open?” asked a lifeguard.

  “Of course. Folks can’t come to Heritage Inn without beach time. Just follow the normal schedule we have posted. I will revise and post the shift changes on the timetable in the staff room. Hopefully, you all want overtime this month. If you’ve made outside plans, thinking you had a few days off, please come see me after the meeting so I can exclude you from the roster.”

  “The guide assures us,” added Charles, “that his passengers have experienced a physically grueling holiday thus far and are ready for rest. So, relax, and do your job. Show them a terrific time – all in the spirit of Christmas.”

  Cheers went up around the table. “So, please check the sheet for your new work hours. I’ll put it up tonight, but will send out emails as well to be sure you don’t miss the changes. And department heads, I depend on you to keep your team running efficiently. Happy workers make happy vacationers. Let’s do this!” Angie glanced at her cell phone. “The last text from the tour guide says the bus will arrive at 7 o’clock tonight. The kitchen is preparing a light evening meal for them. Thanks, everyone.”

  Angie sighed as she headed for the door. It would be a long night.

  GUESTS ARRIVE

  Angie was at the reception desk when the tour bus pulled in. She glanced at Charles and the heads of staff that stood waiting nearby. “Ready, everyone?” />
  “We got it, Angie,” her team said collectively, giving her the thumbs up.

  The door opened wide and a young man walked in. He made his way toward them. With an outstretched arm he introduced himself.

  “My name is Trevor Dristoll. And not too far behind is my following, all about to invade your premises.”

  “I’m Angie, the owner of Heritage Inn, and this is Charles Barker, my assistant. Welcome to the best week of your life. We look forward to showing you and your clients a wonderful time during your stay in our quaint town.”

  “Best week? You realize you have a lot to live up to. We’ve seen the wonders of the world.”

  “Sometimes the greatest wonder is discovered in the peaceful realm of nature, not to minimize the value of the Christmas extravaganza we have lined up.”

  “Ah, yes, Christmas. I will gladly receive the peaceful part.”

  His smile was polite but his tone uneasy. Angie brushed it off. Whatever suited his preferred mood was not her problem – the resort offered guests a wide-range of activities to choose from.

  “You shall find an equal dose of both quiet and boisterous activity here, Mr. Dristoll.”

  Angie noticed that Trevor was younger than most of the guides they’d dealt with in the past. He wore his wavy, dark hair slightly longer than the clean-cut replicas in his business. Chestnut eyes shone with streaks of gold, and somewhere amidst the seriousness that his leadership position required, Angie spotted a playful spirit that would need little prompting to burst clear from the buttoned-up stuffed-shirt-character he portrayed now. Relief flooded her, for she tired easily with the stern, matter-of-fact type that wanted everything handed to them on a silver platter, offering nothing in the way of encouragement in return. Her staff worked hard and deserved the lift that a simple thank you brought.