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

by Marlene Bierworth

  “I can take you to the barn this evening if you like? You can meet the Christmas duo in person.”

  “Sounds delightful. Has Trevor met them?”

  “He never showed when the group went out. Seems to have a disliking for owls,” Angie said.

  “I can see where that might present another stumbling block. That boy is sure giving the magic a challenge this week.”

  Angie did not pursue the subject any further. The secretive stance that was so evident in her son now consumed the mother, and Angie grew tired of the riddle.

  Once back in the office, Angie settled to completing the bookkeeping for the former group. She never liked to fall behind in paperwork further than last week’s guests. In January, she’d succumbed to procrastination, and the task of catching-up had proven overwhelming.

  The lunch bell sounded and Angie decided she should make an appearance. It encouraged her staff to feel that the boss was a part of the everyday running of things. She’d allowed the situation with Trevor to discourage her from connecting with his group. That ended, today. When she walked in, the smell of smoked ham filled her senses. It was her favourite meat; the chef smothered it in a warm pineapple sauce and served it alongside home fries and asparagus.

  Guests fired questions at her about the afternoon volleyball and badminton tournaments at the beach. When she casually directed them to Travis, the man in charge of the activity, the conversation turned to what was really on their minds. From the beginning, everyone had been aware of the attraction between herself and their tour guide, and now the group’s curiosity piqued as they watched it crumble before their eyes. With the sudden appearance of Mom, the gossip vine overflowed with endless possibilities, none of which Angie was willing to entertain.

  At the end of the meal, Angie addressed the guests preparing to leave the dining hall. The sheet is at the reception desk. Don’t forget to sign up for sports this afternoon. Little skill required. Just a willingness to have fun.”

  “Don’t you think your guests would enjoy a bit of serious competition? It was the glue that held Braxton and me together,” Sandra said.

  “When the tournament finishes, there is a game planned for them. First, we want to let everyone enjoy the exercise and fun of the sport.”

  “I see,” Sandra grinned. “You are the defender of the underdog. Another thing I like about you.”

  “There are too many to mention, Mom,” said Trevor as he came up from behind. Angie recognized the sarcastic tone but noticed the confused expression that accompanied it. He never looked at her directly but focused on his mother. “I have some free time. Would you like a tour of the town?”

  “I did that this morning, while you were frantically typing – but mostly deleting – words on that computer of yours.”

  Trevor regarded Angie, his business face fully intact. “My mother does not appreciate the number of hours it takes sitting behind the screen of a computer to run a successful business.”

  “I sympathize with you, Mrs. Dristoll, but need to agree with Trevor on this one. It’s the way of the world now.”

  “Well, I’d rather see you smack that ball the way you used to when you were on the college team,” said Sandra.

  “You were on a volleyball team?” Angie asked, pleased with the improvement in his mood.

  “I was.” Trevor appeared humble and embarrassed at his mother’s boasting.

  “School’s star player. Got the trophy for most valuable player four years in a row,” Sandra said.

  Trevor sighed. “Fine. Where do I sign up, Angie?”

  She wondered if it were a slip of the tongue or if he’d dealt with the reality of Miss Parkinson and had cast the name he scorned from his vocabulary.

  “At the registration desk. Did you have lunch?” Angie asked.

  “Had it sent to my room; work – you know.”

  Angie smiled and Sandra clicked her tongue to show motherly disapproval.

  That afternoon at the beach, the social director had his hands full, dealing with participants at different skill levels. The rules were the bottom law and none escaped the iron hand of the Inn’s competitive-minded, Travis.

  Angie urged Stacy from the housekeeping department, to join in the match of better players, who stood nearby eagerly waiting their turn to play. Angie ignored her objections and penned her name in.

  “That’s not done, Angie and you know it,” said Stacy.

  “Lighten up. All work and no play makes Stacy a dull girl.” We are short one player. I can relieve you of scoring duty and I know you love to compete. So, what’s the problem?”

  “No problem. If you’re on board, boss, then I’ll whip these amateurs into shape.”

  “Good. I’ll take that clip board and the whistle. Angie pulled her cap tighter over her head and smiled. “Meet the new umpire.”

  Stacy ended up on Trevor’s team and she moved around the court one step behind him. Angie watched them laugh and fall in a heap together on the sand while attempting to hit the same ball. They were having a blast, and something akin to a blob of green jelly formed in her gut. Jealousy? Trevor was a free agent and not hers to claim. It should please her to see him have fun. But she wasn’t pleased. Reminding herself of his need to unwind – the original mission – did nothing to soothe her. Things had changed. Angie wasn’t the least bit thrilled that Trevor bounced and tumbled on the sandy court with another woman. Honesty was not Angie’s friend today and it distracted her from her role as umpire.

  “Hey umpire – you should have called that. Those two are in cahoots and cheating at this game.” Angie looked where the sore loser pointed and saw the pleading faces of two full-grown children caught-in-the-act. The guilt was obvious, so she sided on behalf of the other team. They jumped and high-fived one another, and only then, Angie realized she’d just given the opposing team the win. How did that game end so quickly? She’d fussed in her head the entire time over Stacy and Trevor and their crazy antics and ended up missing the passage of time.

  Mrs. Dristoll shimmied up behind Angie. “Just to let you know, my son is a poor loser.”

  That statement proved accurate when his voice shouted loud and clear. “Rematch!”

  Angie glanced at her watch. “Officially, the event is closed. Sorry, Mr. Dristoll. But play on if you can find enough to make teams. I won’t be officiating, so you might even win.” Angie could not hold back the grin and Trevor marched over.

  “Too late. The crowd is scattering. Guess they’re all done in.” he brushed the sand from his shorts. “Maybe I am too. Must have been more physically fit in college.”

  Stacy walked by at that moment and nudged him. “You’re just fine the way you are, Trevor. See you around.”

  Angie watched as Trevor followed her departure with eyes she could not decipher. Had he found a new attraction already? Fine. It didn’t matter. She’d missed her chance with the man and knew he could do a lot worse than Stacy. With the green monster securely locked inside her core, she headed toward the Inn.

  After supper, Angie cornered Sandra Dristoll before she left the room with Trevor. “If you’re interested in viewing the barn owls, the best time is just before dusk. They start to get active then and the hunt for prey begins.”

  “Really, Mom? Give it up, will you?” Trevor said.

  “Give what up? I want to see the creatures while I’m here. Did you know that people travel for miles to watch the Heritage Owls?”

  “So I’ve been told.” Trevor said.

  “Just because you’ve lost the spirit of magic doesn’t mean a mother can’t dream.” Sandra winked, and Angie could not stop the flush that instantly colored her face.

  If Trevor noticed, he said nothing. He directed a groan toward his mother and trudged away. “See you later. Have fun.”

  “What does your son have against owls?” Angie asked.

  She looked at Angie as if she should know. “Have you opened your Christmas stocking yet?”

  “My Christmas
Stocking? What does that have to do with it?”

  “If you’d opened it, you’d know.”

  “I pushed it to a side table to make room to spread files on my desk. Completely forgot about it – again.”

  “I suppose God hasn’t. He’ll remind you, in His time.”

  The barn area designated for the owls was behind a one-sided glass wall. On the reverse, the same glass became a mirror, which the birds loved to mosey up to and primp. From this cozy room people could watch the birds and not disturb the natural order of things.

  “Oh, my. Up close and personal they create quite the spectacle,” said Sandra. “Faces as flat as a pancake, and those eyes are huge – kind of scary, don’t you think?”

  “I’ve always thought the heart-shaped face tends to soften their stark, outer appearance,” said Angie.

  “Such a romantic,” Sandra sighed. “You’ve made a valid argument. I’m convinced.”

  “These days I like to think the idea of owls living on my property will bring a great change into my life. I’ve already suffered the departed-souls theory and tire of the transition period the so-called experts claim as symbolism. I’m hoping change is in the air.” Angie said the words quietly, but the effect ripped through the tender shoots of intimacy she’d envisioned with Trevor and attempted to tear the image from her mind. The roots held fast, and she felt strangely grateful.

  “I second that motion, dear. Some people fear change, but I see it as a new opportunity, beneficial for growth. The older I get the harder it is to tolerate stagnated people stuck in the same old trench they’ve dug for themselves.”

  Angie smiled. “You are refreshing, Mrs. Dristoll. I am thrilled you decided to come to Heritage Inn.”

  “Me, too.” She offered a huge smile then moved closer to the glass, squinting and peering inside. “The barn is getting dark. Will we be able to see the owls hunt?”

  “Pot lights are timed to turn on. The owls have lived here for years and don’t give the dim glow a second thought.” Within minutes, the room brightened, just enough to glimpse the bird’s movements while providing a haunting quality to their night activity.

  A harsh piercing scream filled the air. It lasted only a few seconds. After a short breath, a second screech bellowed and the barn came alive.

  “It’s the female. She’s telling her fella it’s feeding time. She has to beg for every morsel he brings her.”

  “Oh, I shouldn’t like that,” said Sandra.

  “You never begged for a single thing, Mother, and Dad respected you for your independence.”

  The women twirled around and saw Trevor standing by the door. Sandra hurried over and dragged him to the glass. “Look – see that nest over there. That’s another male fluffing the straw just right for the new mama.” She looked at Angie. “Am I right? Is Mrs. Owl expecting?”

  “She is,” said Angie. “You have a keen eye, Mrs. Dristoll. No one from the group even noticed the bulging female the other night when they visited the barn.”

  Trevor grinned. “I see mice scurrying about on the barn floor. Perhaps Mr. Owl is teaching his screeching lady patience by inspecting the nest first before he directs his interest on tonight’s dinner?”

  Angie laughed aloud, relieved that Trevor had joined them on the owl watch. “I can appreciate a man’s perspective.” Angie said. “Owls are very smart birds. Mythology has them linked to wisdom.”

  “Hey, he’s exercising his talons. Getting ready for the kill.” Trevor grew excited. The owl’s head rotated two hundred and seventy degrees, as if daring the others in his parliament to interfere.

  The plump mouse reappeared on its way to the safety of another pile of straw. In a flash, the owl swooped and picked up his prey when it was only halfway to its destination.

  “Cranky, that’s fantastic!” said Trevor.

  “Cranky?” Angie asked.

  “You mean he hasn’t used that expression yet?” asked Sandra. “Personally, I hate it, but does that stop him? The only good about it is I know he can still get excited about something.”

  “Woman, stop your mumbling. Mr. Owl is bringing it to the Mrs. Let’s see how she can beg.”

  The screech sounded, and the owl teased the female with the fresh meat before he passed it over. She gobbled it down in an instant leaving him with an empty stomach. He turned away and once again scanned the floor for the pesky rodents that inhabited the barn and threatened the gardens beyond. When he saw no movement below, he looked toward the hole in the side of the building, large enough to allow the birds freedom to roam at night. Within the moment, he was up and away, flying out into the near darkness to find another small animal to bring home.

  “I always pray for their safe return. They’re like my little babies and I dread the thought of eagles or hawks completing the circle of life at the cost of one of my Heritage owls.”

  “Such barbarism. I hate watching nature shows on television for that very reason. Why can’t they all just love one another?”

  “You know why, mother, so don’t play dumb,” said Trevor.

  “Who me?” Sandra winked at Angie.

  Suddenly, the female owl charged toward the glass. She settled on the limb staged for viewers, and plucked at loose and dirty feathers.

  “On the other side, the glass is a mirror. Barn owls are self-aware and like to show off, parading themselves in front of the males when they return.”

  Angie caught Trevor watching her. She smiled. “Love and fertility are big with owls. Would you care to wait and see the parade of the fittest when the boys’ return?”

  Sandra grabbed Angie’s arm. “Not me, dear. But you and Trevor stay. I’m going to curl up on a soft chair and finish my romance book. The hero is finally showing signs of intelligence and listening to his heart instead of his head. What a relief. Good thing books have happy endings. I couldn’t bear to see fictional men and women throw away their chances at love the way stubborn people do in real life.” She brushed by her son, giving him a bump in the arm on the way past. Trevor stood with his mouth open, looking like the fool his mother portrayed in the characters she spoke of. “I won’t wait up for you, Son. Take your time. Who knows? The males in the barn might not be finished bullying their prey.”

  Angie could barely hold back the grin. When Sandra Dristoll left, Trevor peered at Angie with disbelief streaming from his eyes. “I can’t believe her boldness. Did she really say that?”

  “Heard it with my own ears.” Angie tried to downplay it to put him at ease. “But life doesn’t always wrap up with colored paper, ribbons, and bows. I’m more realistic than your mother.”

  Trevor ran his fingers through his dark hair but made no move to leave the barn. Angie directed her focus back inside the owl sanctuary.

  “I’m sorry, Angie. I’ve been a jerk.” She made no comment but held her breath. “If you want me to beg like that female in there, I’ll do it.”

  Angie spun around to confront him. “Does that involve a piercing screech?”

  “Suppose it could be arranged.” A smile of relief played at the corner of his lips.

  “Don’t bother. I accept your apology.”

  “Things were great between us, and I let the actions of someone else rip us apart.”

  “We were never a committed couple, Trevor. One kiss may have suggested a possibility, but we need to face the fact that you’re leaving, and I don’t think I’d do well with a long-distance relationship. I’m too much of a small-town girl.”

  “Doesn’t appeal to me either. But leaving you is a far worse scenario. I think I’m falling in love.” Trevor stood his ground and let his eyes search for the answer he hoped to find.

  “I’ve not encouraged you, Trevor, and I don’t want you to sacrifice the life you’ve chosen to live. Not for me or anyone else.”

  “What makes you think I love what I do?”

  “Why would someone live another person’s dream? Surely you would not build a business and endure it for the sake of ea
rning a wage?”

  “When my father died, my priorities changed. Now, I find myself trapped in a job that keeps me too far from my mother. I’m the only man in her life but I’m never around to meet her needs.” Trevor inched one step forward. “Don’t you see? It’s my heart’s desire to settle down and look after her – and an incredible special lady, should she let me into her life.”

  Something distracted Trevor’s focus from Angie, and a shocked expression replaced it. She turned around to see what had caught his attention. The male owl had returned and somewhere outside he’d found tiny Santa party hats. He was actually pulling it over her flat head and pecking at her. She, in turn, was eating up his devotion like a lovesick female.

  When Angie turned back toward Trevor, he stood directly in front of her. Hands moved upward to gently squeeze her shoulders, as he sought a response.

  “Angie – tell me there’s a spark of hope for us. We need to see if this is just Christmas magic or the real thing. I need to…”

  Angie placed a finger across his lips. “I need to know, too.”

  Trevor grabbed Angie into a frantic embrace that resembled the act of a desperate man. She gently pushed him back and stared into his eyes. “Relax, Trevor Dristoll, I’m not going anywhere.”

  When Trevor touched her lips again she surrendered to his claim. Angie trusted that love had the power to heal wounds from the past and offer them a future together.

  THE COUNTERPART

  Later that night when the guests had toddled off to bed, Angie stood waiting by the Christmas tree with the felt stocking in hand. Trevor asked her not to look inside until he arrived. Upstairs, he was saying goodnight to his mother and relating the good news that they’d decided to give love a chance. Christmas in December would tell the entire story. Angie desperately hoped for happily-ever-after, the relationship her princess-heart had dreamed of since a young girl. With the vivid imagination that only an innocent child can entertain, her castle-in-the-sky had stood strong and steady, occupied by her Prince Charming who in turn declared his everlasting love to her. The picture squeezed into the forefront of her mind and her spirit awakened.