But for now, I focused on the task at hand—baking and enjoying the morning with my best friend.
One step at a time.
The afternoon rush had finally died down, leaving the café in a rare moment of quiet. I glanced at the clock and decided it was now or never. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed a basket of cookies, still warm from the oven, and slipped outside.
The cold air hit me instantly, making me shiver and pull my coat tighter around me. The town looked like something out of a Christmas card. Snow blanketed the ground, turning everything into a winter wonderland. Wreaths adorned every door, and twinkling lights hung from rooftops and trees, casting a warm glow against the evening sky.
As I walked down Main Street, I passed familiar landmarks—the old bookstore with its creaky wooden sign, the town hall with its grand clock tower, and the small park where children built snowmen and chased each other in fits of laughter. Every now and then, someone would wave or call out a greeting. It seemed everyone was in good spirits today.
My thoughts wandered to Daryl as I made my way towards his garage. The idea of him cooped up in that dimly lit space while the rest of the town celebrated Christmas made me feel both sad and determined. If anyone could use some holiday cheer, it was him.
The garage came into view at the end of the street. It stood in stark contrast to the festive surroundings—dark, unadorned, almost brooding. A single light shone from within, casting long shadows across the snow-covered ground.
I hesitated for a moment at the entrance, my breath visible in the cold air as I steeled myself for what might come next. Gathering my courage, I pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The warmth hit me immediately, mingling with the smell of motor oil and metal. Daryl was bent over a car engine, his back to me. He didn’t seem to notice my arrival at first.
"Daryl," I called softly.
He straightened up slowly, turning to face me with an expression that was equal parts surprise and annoyance.
"I brought you some cookies," I said quickly before he could brush me off again. "Thought you might like them."
His eyes flickered to the basket in my hands, then back to my face. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence stretched on, filled only by the distant hum of machinery.
Finally, he sighed and wiped his hands on a rag. "You didn’t have to do that."
"I know," I replied with a small smile. "But I wanted to."
I held out the basket, trying to ignore the way my hands shook from the cold. Daryl’s eyes lingered on it, but his expression didn’t soften.
"I appreciate the thought, Beth," he said, his voice low and gruff. "But I don’t need any cookies."
My smile faltered, but I kept it in place. "They're just a little something to say thanks for helping me with my car."
He nodded, his face unreadable. "Your car's fixed and will be ready for pickup Wednesday. No need for thanks. You paid. We're square."
I glanced around the garage, trying to find something—anything—to keep the conversation going. "You've got quite a setup here. Been busy?"
He shrugged, turning back to the engine he'd been working on. "Work’s work."
I sighed inwardly, feeling the weight of his dismissal settle on my shoulders. It was like talking to a brick wall. But I wasn’t ready to give up just yet.
"I was wondering," I began hesitantly, "if you’d like to come to the Christmas tree lighting tonight. It’s a big deal in town—lots of people, music, hot cocoa…"
He didn’t even look up this time. "Not my thing."
I took a step closer, desperate to break through his icy exterior. "You might enjoy it. It's a great way to feel connected with everyone."
Daryl finally looked at me, his eyes cold and distant. "Beth, I don’t do Christmas."
The finality in his tone stung more than I cared to admit. I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment as I took a step back.
"Okay," I whispered, clutching the basket tighter against me. "I understand."
Without another word, I turned and walked out of the garage; the door creaking shut behind me. The cold air outside felt even more biting than before as I hurried back towards the café.
My mind raced with thoughts of what I could have done differently or said better. But deep down, I knew Daryl wasn’t going to be an easy nut to crack.
