The thought nearly made me scoff. Crowded streets, kids running around with sticky hands, and the constant hum of Christmas carols. It turned the whole town into a madhouse. At least it meant the rest of town slowed down, giving me some peace and quiet in my garage.
"Hello?" a voice called out.
I ignored it, figuring it was someone outside or maybe just voices carrying over from the market. They could be handing out free cookies for all I cared. It wasn’t my problem.
I leaned further into the engine bay, adjusting the carburetor. My wrench slipped slightly, scraping against the metal with a sharp screech. I gritted my teeth and focused harder.
"Hello? Mr. Walker? Are you there?" The voice was closer now, more insistent.
I paused, glancing up with a frown. Whoever it was, they weren’t going away. Sighing, I set the wrench down and wiped my hands on an old rag.
"Yeah, I’m here," I called back, my voice echoing slightly in the spacious garage.
A small figure appeared in the doorway, silhouetted against the bright afternoon light outside.
I straightened up, wiping my hands on a rag. The figure stepped inside, and I squinted against the light until she came into focus.
Beth Morrison.
I recognized her from the café in the nicer part of town. She was always there, serving up smiles and holiday-themed drinks.
She looked out of place in my grease-streaked garage. Her bright green eyes scanned the room before landing on me, her lips curving into a warm smile. Beth wore a simple dress, paired with a cardigan that looked hand-knitted, giving her an air of casual elegance. Her long legs were covered in navy blue tights. Her hair, golden like a summer's field, cascaded over her shoulders in loose waves.
"Hi," she greeted me, her voice light and cheerful.
I took a drag from my cigarette; the smoke curling lazily upward. "Yeah?" It came out rougher than I intended.
"Um, I'm really sorry to bother you," she began, her smile faltering just slightly, "but my car broke down." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking genuinely apologetic.
I let the silence stretch for a moment, studying her. She shifted from foot to foot but didn’t look away.
"Where’s it at?" I finally asked, letting the cigarette dangle from my lip as I reached for my toolbox.
"Just down the street," she replied, relief washing over her face.
I nodded and stubbed out the cigarette on a nearby ashtray. "Let’s go take a look."
Beth stepped aside as I moved past her toward the door. The sunlight outside was harsh compared to the dim interior of the garage, but it felt good to stretch my legs after being hunched over that Impala for hours.
"So, how are you doing during the holiday season?" she asked. "The café's been crazy busy with all the holiday traffic."
I grunted in response, keeping my eyes on the pavement. "Figures. People love their holiday drinks."
"Yeah, we’ve got this new peppermint mocha that’s been flying off the shelves," she continued, her excitement palpable. "And the live music nights have been a hit too."
I nodded absently, scanning the street for her car.
She hesitated before speaking again. "You should come by sometime. We’ve got this great band playing next Friday."
I glanced at her sideways, raising an eyebrow. "Not much of a café guy."
She laughed softly, a sound like wind chimes. "Well, maybe just for the music then?"
I shrugged. "Maybe."
Her car came into view—a small white sedan parked at an awkward angle on the curb. I could see why she’d need help; it looked like it had seen better days.
"There she is," Beth said, relief evident in her voice. "I’m really sorry to drag you out here like this."
