“I am pleased to hear that. Giving is a sure path to happiness for all involved.”
“Not working too well for me,” Trevor said, raising his eyebrows and demanding a response.
“The stocking? I’ll get to it later, I promise.” Angie started to move away. “Have a nice afternoon, Mr. Dristoll.”
“Mr. Dristoll? Really, Angie, I thought we’d passed that point?” She started to walk and he stepped up close behind her. “Let me treat you to a treat from the mid-way. You pick the vendor.”
Angie felt trapped. Surely she could manage a professional relationship with the man. Yes, professional she was good at. “Thank you.” She avoided using his name, first or last. “I was thinking of cotton candy.”
“The stuff that disappears on your tongue before you even swallow it?”
Angie could not help but smile. “It’s like sweet magic in your mouth, don’t you think?”
“I suppose, but I like more sustenance to my bite. Like a candy apple.”
“Why don’t we tackle both, then?”
“A fair compromise,” said Trevor as he hurried to catch up to the girl already in motion. “What’s the rush?”
“Work, remember?”
“I went through my events for the rest of the year. Can I book an appointment with the busy owner of the Inn to see if any of the dates are available for a revisit?”
“You can email them to me,” Angie said. “Let’s tackle the sticky apple first and save the magical melt-in-your-mouth treat for our last indulgent.”
“Angie, are you pushing me away on purpose?”
She wanted to blurt yes, but the word caught in her throat. She did not want to push this man away and a new wave of anger toward her brother erupted. It must have shown in her face for he backed off.
“I’m sorry, Miss … I don’t even know your last name.”
Angie bit her lip. That might trigger a memory to the name of the killer-teen he hated so much. “Angie is fine.”
“Well, then Angie. I think I will stop pushing myself on you since it seems to make you angry. That was never my intention. Have a good day and enjoy the magic treat. I’ll pray the Claus family will touch it with whatever you need to pull you out of that cocoon you’ve wrapped yourself in.”
Touché! He’d slapped her with the same earlier analysis she’d made of him. Trevor marched away into the crowd and soon disappeared from sight. Her heart plummeted. He obviously cared enough to want to see where fate would take them, but then, he didn’t know that the Parkinson family had been the ones to steal the last breath from his father. His anger would surely turn on her, and she couldn’t bear another heartbreak. Angie avoided the apple and headed straight for the pink cotton candy, which offered no magic to her tormented soul.
Just before supper, she received the email. It was formal, addressed to the owner of Heritage Inn, and took a business approach. It turned out there were two possible dates when Trevor could bring his tour bus to the Inn for a short stay. She’d be a fool to turn away business. There were ongoing bills and wages to pay, and her father had taught her to be a wise businesswoman. Angie could not let her heart stand in the way of success for Heritage Inn. With trembling fingers, she began to respond then scolded herself. She’d always appreciated meeting clients face-to-face whenever possible. She pushed back the chair and stood. Without a second thought she grabbed up her scribbly-sheet and went to hunt down Trevor Dristoll.
Angie found him in the sitting room standing at the tree in the same spot she’d seen him before. The room was deserted so she walked in.
“Trevor,” she squeezed the word out. The personal business touch she sought required using his Christian name. He turned at the sound of her voice and let the ornament fall back against the pine branch.
“Angie.” His voice held no sign of intimacy and it hurt in a deep emotional place, an inner state that suffocated close to death since the loss of her family. Loneliness was killing her from the inside out, and just when she’d imagined it possible to break loose; all hope had been snatched from her. Trevor would not be the one to rescue her from this inevitable fate. Her heart would surely die a second time.
“I looked over your dates and found two this year that worked.”
“You could have emailed me.”
Angie bit her lip to stop the quivering. “Touché. I’m sorry if I offended you earlier. It was not my intention.” Angie glanced toward the mantle. Perhaps the stocking could be her redemption and they could at least go back to being polite with one another. When his silent stare became uncomfortable she walked toward it.
He’d written her name in glittering bold letters against a red, felt stocking. She untied it from the line and glanced back at Trevor. He hadn’t moved.
“I’ll get my notes and meet you in your office in ten minutes. A better place to conduct our business.” He turned on his heels and left the room.
Angie stood with the stocking in hand and let the tears flow down her cheeks. This is what she’d settled for – a polite business relationship. Yet all she remembered was the kiss and the way his eyes drank her into his innermost soul. She hurried from the room and escaped inside what had become her prison. Throwing the stocking on
