“Enjoy your day, Mr. Dristoll.”
CHRISTMAS IN JULY
At noon, Angie walked into the reception area. The place was empty. “Where is everyone?” Angie asked Charles, who clicked away on a computer behind the desk.
“I believe it was a toss-up between exploring Pineville and the lure of escaping the sweltering hot afternoon sun.” He pointed out the window where bodies littered the sand. “The shoreline appears to be gaining the most popularity.”
“Has Drake fired up the barbeque at the beach? Tummies will soon grumble for his delicious burgers, sweet potato fries and whatever else he’s included on the menu. Something healthy, I hope. Do you know?” asked Angie.
“A Mediterranean, Asian, and creamy potato salad; even saw a new nutty-fruit combination carried from the kitchen. It should satisfy those hoping for a meatless lunch.” Charles scrunched his nose in protest. He loved his red meat.
“Some will eat it all, you know?” said Angie.
“No doubt. The chef left us plates in the kitchen. When you’re ready, we can take a break,” Charles said.
“I am ready.”
On the way passed the ceiling to floor windows in the dining room, Angie noticed the food-hut filled with hungry patrons. They continued into the kitchen and found it deserted. This was a working lunch at the beach for the kitchen staff, and thankfully, the weather was cooperating. Angie grabbed a beef patty from the warming oven and scooped a spoonful of everything else onto a plate.
“Look, I tried it all. I will be as big as a horse if I don’t watch it.”
“You are slim and trim and wear off every pound you consume,” said Charles. “Now my wife could use…”
“Charles! Never voice that out loud. It would crush her to think she didn’t meet your image of perfection.”
“Oh, but she does. I prefer to snuggle up beside a woman with meat on her bones.”
Angie laughed. “Someone for everyone, my mother always used to say.”
“And what about you, Angie? Your folks would not want to see you dying an old maid in this place that inspires lovers and dreamers every week of the year.”
Angie frowned. “I am twenty-six, Charles. Far from an old maid.”
“I’m watching out for you. Matter of fact, what do you think of our Mr. Dristoll? Handsome chap, and I don’t see a ring on his finger,” said Charles, sending a wink her way.
“It’s barely seven months since my parents died. No man wants to hang out with a grieving soul.”
“As your father would say – time to put it behind you, girl. You’re missing out on minutes you will never get back.” Charles rhymed it off in the same matter-of-fact tone her father had on multiple occasions.
Angie smiled at the memories that flashed through her mind. “That was his favorite pet-peeve, wasn’t it? Preached it to anyone who’d listen. Live for today. You can’t count on another tomorrow.”
Samuel and Fran Parkinson had crammed every day with active, good-works, and would not be experiencing any regrets in the afterlife. Time had not cheated them. It didn’t matter that the last day on this earth had arrived long before the couple had officially become senior citizens, for they had squeezed a dozen lifetimes into one. Angie wanted more than anything to grasp the quality of that heritage, and have people say the same of her when the Lord brought her home to heaven.
“Think I’ll stretch my legs and walk on the beach,” Angie said, standing to her feet. She brought her dirty plate to the sink, grabbed her floppy hat and sunglasses from the office, and left the Inn.
Noticing the crowds, Angie opted to move up the shoreline in the other direction. She removed her sandals and felt the hard, cool sand under her feet. Pine Lake dipped and dived through parts of the town, but Heritage Inn bordered on the biggest inlet, where the water stayed warm all year. Her family managed the best vacation beach in the area, and even locals rented a room just to relax and enjoy the facilities.
The Inn offered membership to those in town who wanted to take part in the special activities not specified for groups only. Cooking sessions from the chef, spa treatments, public pool swims and lessons, reservations at the dining hall were all extras that Angie had persuaded her stuck-in-the-past father to branch into. The ideas, filtering through Angie’s mind, were endless. When placed in the hands of her skilled employees – who loved their jobs and the opportunity to flaunt expertize to a paying crowd – most ventures became an instant success.
This month, they would not see too many locals hanging around – since Pineville was hosting Christmas in July with enough events to fill anyone’s social calendar. The Inn had postponed regularly scheduled programs designed for the townsfolk to allow for the festivities, but business, as usual, would resume again in August. Trevor Dristoll’s group of passengers would enjoy the luxury of undivided attention at the resort during their stay.
Angie heard a voice behind her. “Hey, wait up.” She turned around and noticed the tour guide closing in.
When Trevor caught up, she asked, “Is there a problem?”
He shook his head. “No! Quite the contrary. Coming here was my best idea yet. Remind me to sign up other groups before I leave. I plan to make this a sought after location for my clientele.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” Angie said.
“Yeah, well…” he appeared to be scrambling for the right words. “People are asking about the dress code for this Christmas dance tonight?” The tension in his face suggested that no one, except himself, was doing the asking.
“I believe that today’s schedule sheet covered that detail. But, to set
