“Callum MacGregor,” I said as we shook hands. “Thanks for coming out so fast.”
“In this weather, I figured you didn’t want to be standing around. Hi, Brooks. How’s that baby of yours?”
Brooks narrowed his eyes and said nothing. He was a charmer, this one.
Dare didn’t seem deterred. “Caught the short straw today, huh?” He clapped the sheriff on the back. “Last I saw, Christian was on patrol.”
“He’s out too. All kinds of yahoos around tonight with the festival, and some of them can’t stay on the road.” With a narrowed-eyed stare for me, the sheriff returned my license. “I should give you a Breathalyzer.”
I shrugged and put it away. “Do what you wish. It’d be a waste of your time, as I haven’t had a drink since, at best guess, June sixteenth.”
The night Hudson, my youngest brother—by seven and five minutes respectively from the other two triplets—had celebrated getting his degree in graphic design. He was considered the free-spirited one among my brothers, other than my own edgy sideline in drawing and painting.
Drawing and painting itself wasn’t edgy, ignoring the whole starving artist thing. And I definitely was not starving after some of my recent commissions. But my choice of subject occasionally skirted the line for some.
Or unskirted, depending on my subject’s state of undress.
Unusual faces and locations captured the bulk of my attention, so those were what I painted most often. It just seemed more notable the few times I’d painted a woman’s form in a more natural way.
Well, notable to my family. The public at large didn’t know who I was. I did my work, cashed my checks, and enjoyed my anonymity.
“We’ll skip the Breathalyzer for now,” the sheriff said, although he didn’t seem happy about it.
Dare rubbed his gloved fingers over his bearded jaw. “She’s a beaut. Shame she got scuffed up, but we’ll get her in and out quick for you, with the holidays and all.”
“Oh, thanks. I really appreciate that.”
“Our shop does custom work. We’ll fix her up so she looks better than brand new. Later on, how do you feel about racing stripes? My brother and Tish and their team do some damn fine work.”
“Hmm. That might be an idea.” Since I hadn’t gotten off on the best foot with his brother, I’d probably end up with a middle finger painted on the fender, but why not give it a shot? “I’d like custom rims too.”
“They’d look sweet with a ride like this. Tell you what, I’ll bring it in and see what Gage and Tish think before we write you up a quote. We’ll set you up with an appointment for the custom work in the new year. Or we can—” Dare broke off as yet another ginormous float went by, this one consisting of a huge gazebo decorated with Christmas lights. A sign proclaimed it courtesy of August and Kinleigh’s Attic.
A flurry of honks went off as the driver moved into the opposite lane to pass our collection of vehicles on the side of the road, much to the sheriff’s consternation.
“We need to get this car out of here. Talk at the shop. You keep it moving once your vehicle is ready.” The sheriff pointed at me. “I don’t want to hear about you causing another ruckus in town.”
“I wasn’t aware I’d caused a ruckus to begin with, but I’ll take it under advisement.” By this point, I couldn’t do much other than shake my head.
At least I’d get an even more tricked out vehicle come the new year, even if it was at considerable cost. I could afford it. My account was nicely padded, and my agent thought a few more pieces would sell soon.
If I ever made it out of small town, USA. Hopefully, without a ticket. I wasn’t even sure for what.
Sheriff Brooks would think of something.
“Okay, let’s do this.” Dare smiled. “You’ll be on your way sooner than you think.”
Ninety minutes later, I finally walked out of the auto shop. The snow was still thick and steady, but the townsfolk didn’t seem to mind. The shop was just a bit down the street from what seemed to be a town square of sorts near the lake. The wide snow-covered lawn was covered with different food and game booths as well as the holiday floats I’d seen, plus a few others. People roamed around with their mittened hands clutching cups of cocoa, talking and laughing, accompanied by excited kids and scampering dogs.
Somehow I’d driven right into a Hallmark Christmas movie.
There was even the gazebo that had clearly served as the inspiration for the float that had glided past my damaged car. The real thing was even more grand as it gleamed in the darkness, strung with miles of lights and with a tree sparkling inside. Families clustered into the space to surround the tree, their laughter carrying on the crisp breeze. Someone pitched a snowball at a woman in the crowd, and she shrieked and rushed down the steps to build a snow arsenal of her own.
I smiled despite my general irritation. I’d been told I’d be able to pick my car up probably tomorrow, thanks to the hefty rush fee I’d paid. We’d scheduled the custom work for the new year.
At least I’d already secured lodging. After a recommendation from the shop, I’d called to reserve a room at The Hummingbird’s Nest bed and breakfast down the block. The sprawling inn overlooked the frosty gleam of the lake and the Christmas hijinks going on nearby.
There was certainly plenty to inspire me here—even if cozy holiday scenes and frigid winter landscapes weren’t my typical subject matter—but I didn’t have any of my supplies. I definitely didn’t have my laptop. Handily, I could take photos and sketch in my on-the-go app if I wanted to capture anything until I got back to my studio at home.
In the meantime, I’d just grab a slice of pizza from Dare’s and Gage’s dad’s booth, Robbie’s Pizza, at the winter festival. I’d heard it was the best in town. Of course Dare was entirely biased, but my growling stomach was willing to take his word for it.
Gage had neither confirmed or denied. He’d just written up my work order silently while giving me a healthy dose of side-eye worthy of my students.
Further cementing my daredevil status in town, I crossed the street outside the crosswalk and headed into the middle of carnival madness.
I bought two slices of cheese pizza and a bag of fried dough that steamed my glasses. Then I looked around the crowded square for a place to sit—or lean, since there was a half wall just beyond the gazebo attached to the pier. I found a spot and ate while I stared at the sprawling homes that lined the lake, their lit windows so homey and comforting in the snowy dark.
Something twisted in my chest that felt suspiciously like yearning. I didn’t mind spending time alone. In fact, due to my large family, I’d grown to appreciate solitude. But being in the center of a happy crowd at Christmas reminded me that hey, there was more to life than teaching and grading and sketching and painting. More than Sunday dinners at my parents’ house filled with friendly or not so friendly squabbling, depending on who was in a mood that week.
The holidays were coming up, and since I’d turned down my best friend Bryce’s pathetic attempts to set me up on a blind date with one of her friends, I’d likely be alone.
Again.
“Hey, mister, you dropped your fried dough.” A young girl with a dark ponytail and braces held out the bag of warm fried dough I hadn’t realized I’d dropped.