Third time’s a charm, right? I twisted the key with a bit more force. The engine gave a reluctant growl before falling silent again. My chest tightened with frustration.
“Don’t do this to me,” I muttered, trying once more. Nothing.
My hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white against the dark leather. “Last chance,” I said, almost threateningly, as I turned the key for the fifth time. This time, the engine roared to life, a sound so sweet it felt like victory.
“Thank you!” I exclaimed, giving the dashboard an affectionate pat.
I pulled out of the alley and headed towards the market. The streetlights cast a warm glow on the wet pavement, reflecting off puddles like tiny mirrors. Christmas decorations adorned every shop window, twinkling lights and festive wreaths adding a magical touch to the night.
The car’s stereo kicked in, filling the space with cheerful Christmas music.Jingle Bell Rockplayed, and I couldn’t help but sing along. My voice echoed in the small confines of the car, mingling with the upbeat melody.
For a moment, everything felt perfect—the smell of fresh cookies lingering on my clothes, holiday tunes lifting my spirits. My car may have been old and temperamental, but at least it had a killer stereo system. It was my graduation present from Mom when I was eighteen.
The memory brought a lump to my throat. Mom had always known how much music meant to me. She’d saved up for months to get me that stereo system because she knew it would bring me joy every day.
I pushed those thoughts aside before they could spiral into something darker. There wasn’t time for that now.
The phone buzzed on the passenger seat, screen lighting up with Ellie’s name. I reached over, careful to keep one hand on the wheel.
"Ellie! I'm so sorry, I know?—"
"It’s fine," she interrupted with a laugh. "I just want to make sure you're driving. I know how sensitive your car can be."
"Betty White is not sensitive," I defended, giving the dashboard an affectionate rub. "She just needs a little extra love."
"Right, well, I'm going to get back to my booth," Ellie said. "Just wanted to check in."
"Thank you," I replied, feeling a wave of relief. "And I'm sorry for being late."
"Don't worry about it. Drive safe."
She hung up, and I tossed the phone back onto the seat.
As I drove through Evergreen Hollow, the streets felt alive with holiday spirit. Strings of twinkling lights crisscrossed above the road, casting a warm glow on the cobblestones below. Wreaths adorned with red ribbons and pinecones hung from every lamppost, adding bursts of color against the gray winter sky.
Storefronts displayed elaborate holiday scenes in their windows—Santa’s workshop bustling with tiny elves, reindeer prancing through snow-covered forests, and cozy living rooms with stockings hung by the chimney with care. Each window was a little world of its own, inviting passersby to pause and admire.
Families strolled along the sidewalks, bundled up in scarves and mittens. Children’s laughter filled the air as they tugged at their parents’ hands, eager to see the next display or visit Santa's grotto set up in the town square.
I passed by Mrs. Whitaker’s flower shop, its windows fogged from the warmth inside. Through the glass, I could see her arranging a festive bouquet of poinsettias and holly. She caught my eye and gave a cheerful wave which I returned with a grin.
I decided to take a shortcut. The main roads were likely blocked off for the market or clogged with cars hunting for parking spots. My car wasn't reliable enough to idle in traffic. I turned down a smaller street that veered away from the center of town, hoping to avoid the chaos.
The narrow road wound through a residential area where snow-laden pine trees lined the sidewalks. Their branches hung low, weighed down by the recent snowfall. The houses were decorated with twinkling lights and festive wreaths, each one a postcard-perfect scene of holiday cheer.
"Hang in there, Betty," I whispered, giving the dashboard another encouraging pat.
The car's engine hummed steadily as I navigated through the quiet streets. I could see plumes of smoke rising from chimneys, mingling with the crisp afternoon air. The road was slick with patches of ice, but I drove cautiously, my grip tight on the steering wheel.
Suddenly, without warning, Betty White shuddered. The engine sputtered and then went silent.
"No, no, no," I muttered, my heart sinking.
I coasted to a stop on the side of the road and tried to restart the engine. Nothing. Just a hollow clicking sound that echoed in the stillness of the night.
"Not now," I groaned, slumping back against the seat.
I tried again, twisting the key with all my might. The engine refused to turn over. Frustration bubbled up inside me as I sat there in the darkened car, surrounded by cheerful holiday lights that seemed to mock my predicament.
