Angie jumped at the sound of a voice behind her. “This is where you disappeared.”
She twirled around to face Trevor. “Well, hello. The dance doesn’t start for another couple of hours. I want to get my table all arranged before I grab a bite.”
“I haven’t eaten either. Perhaps you know of a good place? Or better yet, maybe allow me to dine with you?”
“Nothing quite so elaborate as dining. Just a burger and fries at the Hop Shop.”
“Even better,” Trevor said. He looked around the empty room. “Is there anything I can help you with beforehand? You seem abandoned.”
“Not at all. Some was done before I arrived and the last-minute people will arrive to finish the last of it while I eat. The townsfolk share in the work, as well as the play.” Angie took two steps back and pointed to the table. “What do you think? This is where the judges will make their final choices for the reigning couple.”
“It screams Christmas, that’s for sure,” said Trevor.
“Oh, not yet. I haven’t even opened my box of ornamental goodies.” Angie pulled it from under the table and unfolded the flaps. She sat on the floor, patting the spot next to her. “Come see.”
He seemed reluctant to join her so she buried her head in the box and removed the tissue-wrapped packages, laying them on the floor beside her. Trevor bent, picked them up and put them on the table.
“Thanks,” she said as she bounced to her feet.
Angie dragged out a tote from under the cloth, and from inside withdrew two small artificial, pine trees. She placed one on the far end of the table and began to stretch the branches to make it appear full and appealing. Trevor grabbed the other and did the same. She looked down the length of the table and watched his expression change with the touch of each pine branch. What was going on inside that mind of his? Such a torrent of emotions. She decided to test the waters to see if her first impressions had been accurate.
“Do you like the Christmas season, Trevor?”
His eyes darkened, and she saw shadows try to steal any sparks of joy that peeked through his defense armor. His initial response of displeasure in being put on the spot smoothed into a more polite expression.
“My mother is the queen of Christmas,” he said.
“Oh? Like Mrs. Claus?”
“Don’t give her any ideas. She hasn’t claimed that title yet.”
“She sounds delightful,” said Angie.
“She is. Just a mite pushy sometimes.”
Angie laughed. “That’s a mother’s job. Didn’t you know?”
“You must miss your parents help during the busiest season of the year.” Trevor stated it as an obvious fact rather than a question.
Angie took a deep breath and said, “My parents lived and breathed Heritage Inn and I miss our united efforts here, any time of the year. It’s our legacy.”
“Forgive me. Promise I won’t mention them again. I hate to see the sadness in your eyes.” Trevor’s gaze dropped to the ornaments. He began to unwrap them.
“No, on the contrary. It helps to talk about them.” Angie glanced over and noticed the first decoration he’d opened. “That is a town favorite. Supposedly, one of the old-timers, way back when, punched in all the details of the original town hall onto that tin shape.”
“It’s so true to the one standing today. I noticed it on my way here,” said Trevor.
“The people of this town hold a historic passion that many in America have forgotten,” Angie said. “I’m happy to live here. Our past molds us, don’t you think?” Angie asked.
“I suppose.”
Well, that was a mountain of enthusiasm, Angie thought. This man was not at all forthcoming about the deep stuff that mattered in life. Perhaps he was a modern traveler, living for today, caring less about yesterday or tomorrow. She would not like to discover that to be true of Trevor Dristoll. It hit her then; she cared. Yes, it was most likely the lost expression he revealed occasionally that drew her. She sighed. Her father had always said she was a sucker for the downtrodden.
One after another, Angie explained the significance of each ornament. It didn’t take long for Trevor to warm up to the activity. When the last ornament was hung and thin garland wrapped around the strings of lights, Angie stepped back to admire their work.
“Beautiful! Both trees will draw the crowds to reminisce over past Christmas’ in Pineville.”
Trevor moved in close beside her. “Agreed; Works of art. Not to diminish my enjoyment in the bonus history lesson of your fair town. Both have definitely given me a hearty appetite for that fast food you were bragging about earlier.”
Angie gave him a look of horror. “Did I say fast food?”
“Hamburger and fries? Isn’t that the definition of fast food?”
“Slow and homemade is more like it. The most delicious you will ever eat, besides at the Inn, of course. Many generations have passed down the ingredients that go into the meat patty at the Hop Shop. The owner prides himself in serving good quality food – fresh fixings only, never frozen. Of course, the fries are debatable, but according to ol’ Sammy, the youngsters demand the fatty stuff.” Angie pushed the box and tote back under the table and slid the cloth to cover them from view. She grabbed Trevor’s hand. “Come on. I’m starving.”
Somehow the food tasted better than usual at the Hop Shop. The music blared jolly Christmas tunes,
