“But if homemade eggnog means a drink recipe at the hand of your famous chef, I can’t wait to try,” said Trevor.
Angie grinned and pointed toward the kitchen. “This way, then.”
That night Angie lay in her bed a long time before she finally nodded off. Her mind refused to shut down. It was most likely the eggnog – probably not her best idea this late in the evening.
It was customary at the Inn for a member of the Parkinson family to dine with the guests whenever possible. Since she was the only one left, the duty fell to her. Angie enjoyed meeting people from the many countries that vacationed in her historic town of Pineville. Today was no exception.
Trevor arrived late, apologizing before he sat down. Dressed in khaki pants and a turquoise t-shirt he gave the outward appearance that he was ready to relax, but under the façade appeared distracted, still in work mode. The man needed to unwind worse than she did. Between the town of Pineville and the activities planned at the resort, his clients would have no problem finding their happy place. She wondered if he would find his.
After the kitchen staff served the cinnamon rolls and topped up the coffee cups, Angie stood and brought the discussion around the tables to a halt.
“Excuse me, folks. We trust you all feel refreshed after a good night’s sleep and are ready for a full day of fun, or just a lazy day in the sun – your choice.” Angie pointed to a man who made his way to stand beside her. “This is Travis, the entertainment director. He will outline the many choices you have for your day. Whatever you decide, we hope you will enjoy yourself.” Angie moved to the side.
“Good morning, vacationers. I have a full program planned for you.” Travis waved a printed page in the air. “If you forget something I say, don’t worry. Written on this sunny yellow paper, that you will find at the registration desk every day, is everything you need to know. Please help yourself.”
Travis began his spiel and Angie slipped quietly from the room. Her guests were in good hands now. Travis had worked for the Parkinson’s two years and she appreciated his creative mind and sense of humor that kept him smiling even with the most difficult visitor.
In her office, Angie started a new file for this tour group and printed the date, Trevor Dristoll’s name, and his contact number. Her family had recorded every guest that had ever stayed at the Inn. Her old-fashioned father had not totally relied on computers to keep the list safe. She honored his memory and would continue the same practise. Inside the folder, she placed all the pages she’d worked on last night, then closed it and stored it alphabetically in the antiquated filing cabinet. Every twelve months after taxes, she piled the binders into labeled boxes and transferred them into a storage trailer parked beside the barn. These names were part of her history, and for but a moment in time had passed through her family’s circle of influence.
Angie turned when she heard the musical rat-a-tat-tat at the door. “Angie, I hope I’m not interrupting,” said Trevor.
“Not at all. Come in,” Angie said as she stood and walked toward him. “What can I do for you?”
“My question exactly,” Trevor said. “Can’t get my head around all the events Travis recited this morning. My people, as you call them, totally ignored me as they sped away from the dining room. Whatever will I do with myself if I don’t have them to entertain?”
“Perhaps you could use some downtime at the beach,” Angie suggested. “If you enjoy rowing, feel free to take a canoe out on the lake, or if speed is your game, there are water sports on the Heritage Queen motor boat after lunch.”
“Like I said, so many choices. I’m scratching my head and wondering if I should dock my paycheck.”
“That would be up to you,” Angie laughed. “I promise, that my staff will send any disgruntled guests we can’t handle your way.” He still didn’t look convinced. “Mr. Dristoll, put on your beach wear and enjoy your day. I will hunt you down if any problems arise.”
Trevor appeared hesitant to leave. “Travis said there was a kick-off Christmas dance in town. Will the owner of Heritage Inn be attending?”
“I never miss it. My family has the honor of crowning the next Claus couple who will reign in Pineville for the month of July.”
Trevor puckered his brow. “Really, the town allows kids to run the place for an entire month?”
“The kids – as you so label them – consider it a great privilege to help the officials run our town. All the teens participating take responsibility seriously and have competed since the beginning of the senior high school year for the position. Their points are tallied and we choose the winners at the dance.”
“So it’s not the real Claus family? Magic, and all that stuff.”
Angie broke out in laughter. “You’re a believer! I’m pleased to hear that. Rest easy. These are only runner-ups – helpers for the aging duo in the off season.”
Trevor shook his head. “Maybe I’ll skip the dance.”
“No, come. You will have fun. Trust me,” said Angie with her most persuasive voice.
Trevor gazed at her and the lines on his face relaxed. “Okay, I’ll go, just to see you crown the two rascals.”
“You don’t like teens?” Angie asked.
“Not particularly.” He guarded the shadow that threatened to distort his face. He appeared to sense her analyzing his reaction,
