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

by Marlene Bierworth

  Angie did not approach the subject of seeing him stash his D-rated work of art into someone’s Christmas stocking. “Your low grade did not reflect on your ability to trim a Christmas tree. I recall watching you tackle that task quite efficiently.”

  “Suppose anyone can toss a few ornaments on branches. No skill required.” He placed his feet safely on the rubber bar on each side and turned off the machine. Mopping his face and neck with the white towel, he suddenly noticed her watching. “What?”

  “Sorry, rude of me to stare.” Caught, Angie felt embarrassed and walked to the huge windows that faced the water. The sun was sinking lower in the sky as he slid in beside her.

  “I don’t mind you staring. In fact you are becoming a notable distraction for me.” Trevor sounded sincere.

  “Is that a good or a bad thing?” Angie was feeling brazen and allowed her curiosity to run the gauntlet.

  “My mother would say yes indeed – extremely good.”

  Angie was beginning to wonder if Trevor was a mommy’s boy. “Do you realize how many times you bring your mother into the conversation? It’s as if you have no opinion or worldview of your own.”

  “Now that you mention it, I suppose I do let her ideas talk for me. Keeps me out of trouble. Or could be we just got a lot closer lately, and I discovered she has a lot of smart things to say.” Trevor squirmed and shuffled his feet.

  “Close is a good thing. Treasure your mother while you still have her.”

  “That’s the plan. I need to go shower and change. See you at supper?”

  “You bet, and after that the Christmas Eve event.” The color drained from his face and she thought he’d pass out. “Are you alright, Trevor? You’re not coming down with something, are you?”

  “Nothing that a cold shower won’t shake loose. See you later.”

  Angie watched him leave and wondered again at the complex nature of this character that had invaded her mind and soul in such a short time. She was fooling herself if she thought her interest stopped at showing the hard-working tour guide a good and relaxing time while he visited her part of the world. Visited! She’d do well to remember that. He’d ride off into the sunset the same as he’d arrived, and that would be that. She hardened her heart; it could not survive another break so soon. Love was a fragile thing, whether directed to family or to the one reserved for happily-ever-after. She’d do well to guard her emotions around Trevor.

  The guests whooped and hollered as they gathered in the main sitting room of Heritage Inn. During supper, the staff had frantically erected the eight-foot artificial tree, stretching its scrunched branches and spreading them wide to model a full-grown pine. They stood it close to the electric fireplace. A simulated fire blazed upward allowing the Christmas scene to take on a warm, wintry atmosphere, without the heat. Boxes lined the game table, holding each stage of the decorating process, the lights, garland, ornaments, tinsel and a can of fake snow to give the impression that the white snows of the North Pole had touched the tree.

  On the other side of the room sat the monstrosity of a stone fireplace, reserved for winter. It remained unlit. July was the season to stay cool. The air conditioner ran full-blast, and the imitation would have to suffice for the Christmas in July event at Heritage Inn. But heaven forbid a bare fireplace should remain in the festive room. Unadorned, it lacked the most significant traditional element of holiday decorating. To fill the space, strings of red rope were stretched across the mantle area, and from it hung stockings – one for every person staying at the Inn tonight. Lots of red, green and blue hung proudly, waiting with treasures from this morning’s scavenger hunt, and the crafts the guests had created specifically for the name they’d draw from a hat at the onset of the event. They would know each other after traveling all these miles together, so the unveiling tomorrow morning should be insightful and hopefully fun for the group.

  “The Christmas tree stands in wait of your creative talents. I see twelve of you have signed up to trim the tree so get comfy everyone else and let’s watch the transformation. The lights first, please.”

  Four people jumped up and the stringing of over five hundred lights between the branches began. Angie flicked off the light switch, and the final check revealed all the twinkles balanced and covered the evergreen entirely. The groups proceeded, and within the hour, they’d positioned the final touches on the pine tree and we stood in awe of the transformation.

  A few late contributions found their way into the stockings, until the felt bulged with roughly wrapped yard-sale gifts and creative sheets of glad tidings. The feeling in the air was contagious, like a bunch of children waiting for Christmas morning. Hot chocolate, cider, eggnog, and an assortment of Christmas shaped cookies arrived from the kitchen.

  Angie addressed the group while their mouths chewed busily. “I trust you all enjoyed setting up for our Christmas morning celebration of gifts. Tomorrow night we have a treat for you. Heritage Inn is known for the owls that live in our barn. I will personally take you on that tour, but beware you seekers of love – many hearts do not return the same.”

  “What’s so special about your owls?” a young man asked.

  “Well, it seems this particular family is as old as our Inn, or at least the length of time my family has been here. The first couple came when my great-great-grandfather first settled in these parts. And as each generation passed on, the next stayed behind to populate the barn.”

  “How do you know it’s the same family?”

  “Same way you know your children, I suppose. We just know,” said Angie. She pointed to the huge painting over the fireplace. “Every Christmas celebration the owls don the Santa hats and love perches on the branches ready to romance their one true mate.”

  “Sounds hokey-pokey,” said a young teen. “All that love and mush. It’s just instinct for birds.”

  “And have you passed that theory by any of my owls?” Angie asked, giving the boy a generous, playful wink.

  “I might do that tomorrow night.”

  Angie laughed. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, everyone.”

  On her way past Trevor, she beckoned him aside. “Are we still on for the boat ride tomorrow?”

  “Looking forward to it. Three at the dock, right?” Trevor confirmed.

  “Right,” Angie said. “And I hope to see you at the church service. It’s interdenominational and held at the chapel on the east side of the Inn every Sunday morning.”

  “Is the sermon somehow connected to your owls?”

  “You peeked at the preacher’s notes.” Angie chuckled.

  “No, I just noticed the title of his sermon in the schedule. The gift of owls.”

  “Very observant,” said Angie.

  “I thought owls were an omen for death or bad luck?”

  “Are you superstitious, Mr. Dristoll?” Angie grinned. “It’s true that some tribes in Africa figured if they saw or even heard one cry out a hoot, that someone would surely die.”

  “Only in Africa, huh?”

  “And I see the belief has spread to America, as well. But I think you’ll discover that the love aspect overrides it all – at least in a spiritual sense.”

  “It’ll be interesting to see how death can spread to a gift, and finally love? You must agree, that’s a big stretch?”

  “Perhaps after the sermon, you’ll discover the link,” Angie said. “I must leave you now. Got a conference call in ten minutes.”

  “Isn’t it late to be doing business?”

  “Apparently, not in China. Goodnight Trevor.”

  It was midnight when Angie closed the door to her office. She couldn’t wait to crawl under the sheets. As was her custom, she went to check if the guard was on duty.

  “Evening, Joe. Quiet out there tonight?” Angie asked when she spotted him close to the front entrance.

  “Sure is. You must have worn out your guests today. Most lights are out and everyone tucked under. Just one lonely soul in the sitting room.”


  “Oh? I’ll peek in on my way by. Have a good night, Joe.”

  Trevor stood by the tree, fingering the ornaments, and talking on his cell phone. Angie would have continued to slip on past the room but stopped when she heard her name mentioned.

  “Her name is Angie. And she is all about Christmas and even owls. I’m sure you’d love her.” As Trevor listened to the voice on the other end, Angie leaned against the wall in the hallway.

  “What a dumb question. I just met the woman a few days ago and you’d do well to remember I am not in the market for romance.” There was another pause before he continued. “Owls are not the kind of good sign that a matchmaker from the North Pole would send. I Googled it, and if you’re into magic and dark mystery – which I’m sure you avoid like the plague – one might believe all this mumbo-jumbo the woman is pushing off on us as a good thing.”

  There was a moment of silence, and Angie began to feel like an eves-dropper. As she stepped to leave, she heard Trevor say, “Trouble is, Mom, I think I like her anyway. Probably too much.” Angie’s feet stuck to the spot. She held her breath and wondered what she thought about that remark. She’d not been looking for romance either, but there was an attraction to the man she couldn’t deny.

  “I’ve got to go, Mom. Church tomorrow. And don’t get all weird on me. It’s at the Inn, and I should attend if I want my tour passengers to feel comfortable with the program. Besides, the sermon is about owls. How spiritual can that get?”

  Angie smiled. She’d heard the sermon before and knew Trevor was in for an eye-opening surprise.

  THE HERITAGE QUEEN

  Sunday a good many of the guests showed up for the in-house service that retired Pastor Jake officiated every week for the guests at Heritage Inn. The crowds throughout the year varied, but the assembly today was in the Christmas spirit and wanted to celebrate Jesus, and it seemed, owls. They appeared pleasantly surprised at the allegory the man of God set forth between the owl and God’s Son. The birth of a baby, the tragic symbolism of death; then turning it all around to portray the hope of great change as it moved from a state of sin to purity. Angie smiled as she heard the congregation release a deep sigh when death was conquered and the owl emerged, bowing to Jesus as the epiphany of eternal love.

  Trevor was the first to track her down. “Do you think the man took a few liberties with his analogy?”

  “Possibly, but it’s what the history books tell us, both mythology and the Bible.”

  “Definitely a great story-teller.”

  “Agreed. He has the best material to work with. Jesus is the greatest story ever told.”

  Trevor smiled. “My mother would like me to go to church regularly, but work keeps me away most of the time. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m rusty in the spiritual department.”

  “Only you can change that.” Angie nodded toward the sitting room. “You best get in and join the stocking party. I’ve got an errand to run before lunch.”

  Trevor looked surprised. “You’re not attending?”

  “Travis will do the honors. I can’t possibly attend all the events that happen on the site, Trevor. There’s a lot of work goes on behind the scenes to run a resort like this.”

  “No doubt.” Trevor disconnected Angie from his usual attentive gaze and stared absent-mindedly at a crystal table vase of fresh flowers. “Just figured you’d be there since you had a stocking hanging with the rest.”

  “I do?”

  “Sure. I think it even has something in it. Looks chubby,” Trevor said.

  “I’ll try to peek in after lunch. I really cannot put off my errand. Consider the event an opportunity to get to know your clientele better. Have fun and I’ll see you later.” When she noticed his downcast eyes remained she blurted out. “Would you care to take a boat ride with me, later today?”

  “Yes, I’d love it.” His answer came quick, filled with a panic-stricken tone that I might snatch it back before he got the words out.

  Angie’s strongest resolve to keep a safe distance between them betrayed her at every opportunity. The invitation had slid out instinctively, as a response to witnessing his sad face. Apparently, her mother’s gift to discern and search out the needy one in a crowd had passed down to her. But as much as she’d like to believe the trait to be the root motivator in this case, it eluded her, and exposure to the truth caused her to blush. At long last, a man had cast a net into her world and she wasn’t fighting his pull. Thankfully, her heart had not died from loneliness and that fact alone gave cause for celebration.

  “Then it’s a date.”

  “A date? That sounds serious?”

  “Well, I invited you, and it’s just the two of us – besides the captain. That has the elements of a date.”

  “My mother would love to hear that,” Trevor muttered under his breath.

  “Is she coming along?” Again, Angie wondered if this man was a Mommy’s boy, but added a teasing smile to the remark.

  “No, of course not. Sorry, I have a habit of thinking out loud.”

  Angie felt certain he was recalling last night’s conversation with his mother, but he didn’t voice it. She’d let him off the hook, although it was funny to watch him squirm like a worm dangling at the end of a fishing line. “Just us, then. Looking forward to showing you the sights, Trevor.”

  “Thanks for the invite.”

  “Check with Charles at the desk for the time. We’ll need to work around the captain’s schedule.”

  On her way past the desk she leaned in and spoke to Charles. “Can you radio Frank and ask him if he can give me an hour or so on the boat this afternoon, around three-ish?”

  “I can. And will our Mr. Dristoll be joining you?”

  “Were you eavesdropping, Charles?”

  “Not on purpose. The young man’s eager voice drifted across the room and caught my attention.”

  Angie laughed. “Well, when you receive the okay from Frank, let Trevor know the time. Can you handle that?” she asked in a teasing banter. She walked out the door with a light step and a song on her lips.

  That day at precisely three, when the slated time for water sports had ended, Angie arrived at the Heritage Queen for boarding.

  “Are you sure you don’t mind the extra hour on the water, Frank?” She handed him a bottled soda and cookies from the kitchen.

  “Not at all, boss. You deserve some free time away from the Inn, and I’m glad you took me up on the offer to show you my side of the job.”

  “I have a friend coming. He is the guide from the tour bus that invaded us this week,” Angie said.

  “Yes, Mr. Dristoll. He spoke to me earlier. He seemed rather excited to view the area from the water,” said Frank.

  “So he thinks we’re on a tour, does he?” Angie asked.

  Frank winked. “I told him you were the queen of the wake board and he told me he was the king of the belly-flop fish.”

  Angie laughed aloud and dropped her striped beach bag on the white leather seat at the back. “We shall see.” She glanced on the pier and then called out to Frank. “Here he comes.”

  She watched Trevor stroll up the dock toward the boat. He wore swimming trunks, a muscle shirt and carried a towel over his shoulder, his dark tan showing in all the uncovered surfaces. Angie turned away and looked at the lake. The blazing sun reflected off small whitecaps like glittering jewels, and a slight breeze blowing across the water’s surface produced a mesmerizing shimmer. A perfect day for a boat ride.

  “Are you cool?” came a voice behind her. She bolted around to face Trevor.

  “Goosebumps is all. I love the water.”

  “Me too. My parents owned a fishing boat and we used it as an excuse to escape the city whenever possible.” Trevor scanned the Heritage Queen. “Nothing like this one.”

  “So you enjoy fishing?” Angie asked.

  “My father did, so I learned to.” Trevor grinned. “They were special, quieter times I treasure – especially now.”

&nbs
p; Angie watched with a discreet eye, as his countenance grew sad. He glanced away.

  “Would you consider me bold if I asked about that hurt expression you attempt to hide from the world?” said Angie, finally finding the nerve to confront him.

  “Perhaps – since we haven’t even left the dock yet,” said Trevor.

  Angie yelled out to Frank. “We’re ready for some fun. Bring us to the wet-zone, Captain.”

  “The wet-zone?”

  “You didn’t wear those swim trunks for nothing, did you?”

  Angie reached to one side and unhooked the board. “While on your travels, have you ever tried surfing?”

  “Tackled a wave on the California coast, once, but it was disastrous. Never attempted it from behind a boat.”

  “You’ll do great. But, I’ll brave the first wave and embarrass myself so you’ll feel more at ease when your turn comes around.” Angie laughed. “Fairly nervy of me, only ten minutes into our afternoon together.”

  “So it’s not a date anymore?” asked Trevor. “Just an afternoon together?”

  Angie scrunched up her face and continued zippering and snapping on the life jacket. “You say the weirdest things sometime, Trevor Dristoll.”

  “Haven’t been on a date in a long time. Guess I just like the sound of it.”

  Angie yelled up to the front. “I’m ready, Frank.” He stopped the boat, and she dove into the water and came up shivering. “It’s cooler than I expected. Push the board out to me and throw me the tow line, okay?”

  Trevor did as she asked, and when Angie waved, Frank gunned the engine and headed for the middle of the lake. She steadied her feet on the board then inched her hands up the rope to find the right entry point. Victorious, she rode the wave soaring from the back of the boat. Angie winked at Trevor, lifted the line that connected her to the vessel and tossed it to him. He caught it in mid-air.

  “Look at you! Riding that wave like a pro.”

  The captain cranked the country music, and Angie watched as Trevor’s mood settled into vacation mode. He dropped onto the seat directly across from where she surfed, no doubt to watch her every move, whether it be for tips on the sport or just to googly-eye a girl in a bikini. Either way, his scrutiny did not unsettle her. In fact, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. Since his arrival, Trevor lived tightly bound within a cocoon of his own making, completely unaware of how badly he needed to break loose. Angie hoped the boat ride would reach that dark place inside and offer him a reprieve.