“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,
