The neighbor collected her mail and watered the plants in her apartment when Jolene worked away from home. She’d have to pick up another gift card at the donut shop a few doors down – the woman was a die-hard patron and spent a lot of free time there, browsing the net or visiting with friends but always nibbling on their delicious desserts. Simone refused to take any money for the neighborly kindness she provided for Jolene, but could never pass up a pre-paid card for the Donut Hole.
Jolene shuffled through the mountain of mail. She’d had a birthday while she was gone; turned the ripe old age of twenty-three, and friends and relatives had bombarded her with cards. Grinning at the messages of love written long-hand, Jolene wondered why she’d succumbed to replacing the good-feeling of snail mail greetings with the ease of technology that sent quickie messages via airwaves. It was the same as giving store-bought gifts as opposed to the home-made ones she so appreciated. People called her old-fashioned but she considered that a coveted compliment.
The message on a manilla envelope caught her attention, “Happy Birthday – Christmas in July”. In the left-hand corner, she chuckled at the seasonal Santa tag with the home address of the jolly lady from the North Pole. Who was playing a prank on her now? She ripped the seal open and peeked inside.
“Oh, my,” she squealed as she withdrew a beautiful blue heart-shaped ornament, made of ornate flowers and sprinkled with glittery diamonds – probably not the real thing, but, nonetheless, it shone bright and cheered her weary soul. For Jolene, it wasn’t about the monetary value that a real gem might offer as much as the thought that went behind the gift. When she examined it closely, she noticed the one side had a thin slice and sighed. Just her luck that the mail service had broken the heart; a close reminder of the frail condition of hers. She put the ornament on the table beside her and looked inside the envelope again.
A short greeting was written in beautiful script on a blue piece of Christmas stationary. It read: Hearts are not broken, but need intertwined, to beat the rhythm of a love sublime. Seek and ye shall find.
No one signed the riddle and Jolene’s curiosity piqued as she opened the thick package and emptied the contents in her lap. A colorful brochure, advertising the Heritage Inn and Resort, captured her interest immediately. The sandy beach, the calm lake, boats and trails and a historic lighthouse to shine its light over the area.
Pineville was the nearest town, and both locations were winding up to begin their yearly tribute to Christmas in July. The entire month, every store and café mentioned in the ad was in on the fun offering festive specials. The coming week was the kick-off dance and a fair. Jolene loved Christmas! What a splendid way to spend her week off. Not to undervalue the main attraction – the lure of the Love Owls living in the barn, which laid claim to adding a touch of romance and magic to the Inn. She could use a dose of that.
This was a sought-after location for vacationers and chances of her securing a room at the last minute was nil-to none. She noticed a photo-copy sheet, and gasped. On it was recorded a confirmation number for a seven day stay at the resort – the exact number of days she had off work. The registration was listed for Jolene Sumpter, and signed by Mrs. Claus – Merry Christmas in July.
The source of the package had to be a joke from one of her well-meaning friends, or her father, who might be too embarrassed to sign his own name after his apparent neglect of their yearly birthday dinner. No, couldn’t be him; he’d want the recognition. So, perhaps an anonymous birthday gift from someone else – although that special occasion was never mentioned in the notes, only Christmas. Did anyone she knew celebrate Christmas in July?
Jolene sighed. What did it matter? She could definitely handle down-time and try as she might to cast it off as nonsense, the idea stuck. She scooped up the phone and called the number on the pamphlet. A woman’s voice answered on the other end.
“Good afternoon, Heritage Inn and Resort. This is Angie, how may I help you?” The voice was young and Jolene was drawn to her immediately.
“I was just wondering the hours designated for check in.”
“It is usually between three in the afternoon and six, but there is someone inside the Inn that can get you settled if you need to arrive after that. Are you registered?” Angie asked.
Her question exactly, but she didn’t say it aloud. She checked the date on the letter. “Jolene Sumpter for tomorrow afternoon.” Wow – tomorrow – how perfect was that. Pineville was only a five-hour drive from home.
“Yes, I see you here. Do you need to arrive late?” the woman on the other end of the phone asked.
“I think I can make it before six,” Jolene said. “Thank you for your time and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Looking forward to spending Christmas in July with you, Miss Sumpter.”
Jolene hung up and stared at the bundle in her
