“You can’t argue with the matchmaker from the North Pole.”
Sandra sat down and peeled the outer layer off and fixed her gaze on a perfectly wrapped Christmas box. “Well, I’ll be,” she muttered. “It’s wrapped like a present. I should put it under the tree. Probably no room in Santa’s sleigh so she sent it on ahead.”
“Are you listening to yourself?” asked Angie.
“Like you said, you can’t argue with Mrs. Claus. Last time we thought it a lark, but you and Trevor getting together is proof there is merit in packages sent from the North Pole.”
“Well, I don’t think she wants you to wait until Christmas morning. How will you identify the clues that lead to her hand-picked lonely heart?”
“Oh, fiddle-e-dee. I was never good at waiting anyway.” Sandra pulled the yellow ribbon while she rattled on. “My parents ran out of places to hide gifts. I always found the stash, unwrapped everything with my name on the tag, played a while, and then carefully re-wrapped it. Got away with it for years.” She ripped the shiny red paper impatiently, lifted the box lid and peeked inside. Nestled inside a cozy bed of protective bubble wrap sat a ball-shaped ornament. She withdrew it and gasped. “I’ve been to this place.”
Angie stood over her shoulder. “It’s gorgeous!”
“Years ago, my husband and I stopped at this shop. Maybe Mrs. Claus merely meant it as a memory gift for my second Christmas without Braxton. This was our favorite season for many years.”
“Read the tag,” said Angie.
Hanging from the top of the ornament was a red strip of paper. She read it aloud. “Where the past finds the future.”
“A clue!” said Angie. “Perhaps Mrs. Claus wants you to go to the store again to find your lonely heart.”
“Well, I have other plans. My son is getting married at the resort in two weeks so I’m not going anywhere, especially to hunt down a man. But I will cherish it as a nice memory with hopes I am not doomed to stay alone forever.”
“My season of mourning has ended. It’s been an interesting year and memories of my family are sweet, not bitter,” said Angie.
“Agreed. Mourning ushers us into the next stage, and when it happens, I’ll be ready, but I will not push the issue,” said Sandra.
“We are all living in a healthy place,” said Angie.
“Enough of this distraction. The focus is on the bride and groom this month and I’ll not be stealing your thunder, Angie Parkinson.”
Sandra couldn’t resist one last glance at the gift. “Trevor will enjoy seeing the ornament. He was a toddler when we visited the Christmas store but he’ll remember it. Called it a magical cave the way the rear of the store disappeared into a snowy forest.”
Angie looked closer. “You’re right. You can only see the entrance. The rest hides behind a blanket of trees and the icy, snow cover creates a winter wonderland. It’s a remarkable structure.”
Sandra positioned the ornament back inside the bubble-protected box and pushed it off to the side. “Back to work, Angie. Your day waits for no one.”
At lunch, the two women sat at a table close to the window that faced the front of the Inn. They’d be the first to spot Trevor arrive, and it was hard to determine who was more excited – the bride or the mother.
“How many responses today, Sandra?” asked Angie.
“Thirty-eight said yes and four had to decline. Baby coming to the Mercer family and old Nellie is on death’s door so the family can’t leave her.”
“I’m surprised anyone can come, it being the Christmas season.”
“Are you kidding? Where else would someone want to be but Heritage Inn at Christmas?”
Angie smiled. “I know what you mean. I like to imagine this place is magical, like that store you visited years ago.”
“Between the owls in residence and Mrs. Claus drawing you two together, I’m convinced the Miracle Maker has touched and blessed this resort.”
Angie squealed and jumped to her feet. “Trevor is here.”
The love-struck girl bolted for the door and Sandra forced herself to remain seated. Although her heart pounded with joy to observe her son in love with Angie, her expression revealed torn emotions as the pair raced toward each other and embraced. A mother’s heart, full to overflowing, and breaking at the same time. Sandra loved Angie and knew she was the perfect match for Trevor. But she wondered who’d eat the cookies she baked or who would fill her mind as she waited with eagerness for someone to return home.
In another week, Heritage Inn would be Trevor’s home and her house in Nashville would become a lonely place without him.
Angie and Trevor had disappeared from sight, when a man, who commanded the room by his mere presence, walked into the foyer of Heritage Inn. Charles appeared preoccupied, settling an in-house dispute, so Sandra walked over to greet the stranger.
“Good evening,” she said as she held out a welcoming hand. The man’s smile lit up his face and his fingers lingered on hers slightly longer than necessary.
“Hello. My name is Robert Fredricks.”
“The wedding planner?” asked Sandra, taken by surprise. The man didn’t look the part; far too casual and unstuffy, but then all she had for comparison were actors from chick flicks. She knew Angie had hired a man, but surely a middle-aged mind would not be in tune with the expectations of young hearts on their special day.
“You’re surprised? Expecting someone younger?”
Sandra bit her lip to hold back the grin. “Possibly.”
“Then I shall have to work extra hard to meet your standards.” His eyes twinkled with humor. “And who might
