Mistletoe & Motor Oil (The Evergreen Hollow #1)

1. Beth

Chapter 1

Beth

I spent the entire day baking cookies, and I had no regrets. I stood in my kitchen, the warm scent of vanilla and cinnamon wrapping around me like a cozy blanket. My fingers were still dusted with flour as I pulled the last tray of cookies from the oven. They were perfect—golden brown with just a hint of crisp around the edges.

As I set the tray down to cool, the aroma intensified, filling every corner of my little café. The cookies had those delicate cracks on top that promised a soft, chewy center. Chocolate chips glistened in the dim light, their sweetness mingling with the earthy scent of nutmeg and ginger.

"Ellie is going to love these," I murmured to myself, smiling at the thought of her bright face when she tasted them.

Then it hit me.

"Ellie!" I gasped, my heart dropping into my stomach. I had promised her I'd deliver these pastries to the holiday market... thirty minutes ago.

Panic surged through me. I rushed to grab a cooling rack and carefully transferred each cookie onto it. They needed just a few more minutes to set.

"Come on, come on," I muttered, glancing at the clock on the wall. It ticked away mercilessly, each second reminding me how late I was.

I started packing up other baked goods—sugar-dusted scones, gingerbread men with tiny candy buttons, and spiced apple muffins that still steamed when you broke them open. My hands moved swiftly, almost on autopilot from years of practice. But my mind raced with worry about keeping Ellie waiting.

The door jingled open, and I turned to see Mr. Thompson from next door peek in.

"Beth! The smell in here is heavenly!" He took a deep breath as if he could inhale the cookies straight off the cooling rack.

"Thanks, Mr. Thompson! I'm actually running late," I said, shoving a tray of pastries into a basket lined with festive red cloth.

"Need a hand?" he offered, stepping closer.

"No time! But thank you!" I flashed him an apologetic smile before turning back to my task.

The cookies had cooled enough. I scooped them up gently and added them to the basket. My heart thumped loudly in my chest as I finally dashed toward the door, praying Ellie wouldn't be too mad at me for being late again.

I hurried through the café, weaving around tables and chairs with practiced ease. Soft, amber lights hung from the ceiling, casting a golden glow that made everything look cozy. The walls were adorned with eclectic art pieces and photographs, each telling its own story. In one corner, an old upright piano sat waiting for the next live music night, its keys worn from years of use.

The tables were mismatched but charming, each one covered in a different holiday-themed tablecloth. Tiny Christmas trees adorned with twinkling fairy lights stood on each table, their glow reflecting off the polished wooden surfaces. A few patrons lingered, sipping on their holiday-themed drinks. One couple sat by the window, their hands entwined as they shared a peppermint mocha.

I felt a pang of pride as I glanced around. This café was my sanctuary, my little slice of happiness in the world. But today, it also felt like a ticking time bomb reminding me how late I was.

As I passed the counter, I noticed the chalkboard menu where I had painstakingly written out today’s specials in curly handwriting. Gingerbread lattes, spiced hot chocolate, and cranberry scones—all favorites among our regulars. My gaze landed on the glass display case filled with pastries and desserts. The sight of my creations always gave me a sense of accomplishment.

"Beth! You’re in a rush today," called out Lily, one of my regulars who sat at her usual spot near the counter.

"Running late for Ellie," I replied with a quick smile.

Lily chuckled and took a sip of her eggnog latte. "You’re always late for something."

I couldn’t help but laugh despite my stress. "Story of my life."

I pushed open the door to the back alley where my car was parked. The cold air hit me like a slap to the face, making me shiver despite my thick coat. The basket of goodies felt heavier in my hands as I hurried toward my car.

I fumbled with my keys for a moment before finally unlocking the door and sliding into the driver’s seat.

I slid into the driver’s seat, the cold leather sending a shiver up my spine. My breath formed little clouds in front of me as I inserted the key into the ignition.

“Please, please, please,” I whispered, turning the key.

The engine sputtered and died. My heart sank.

“Come on, baby, just one more time,” I pleaded, turning the key again. The engine whined but didn’t catch.

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 Rock played, 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.

Taking a deep breath, I reached for my phone and called Ellie again.

"Beth? Are you okay?" Her voice crackled through the speaker.

"Betty White broke down," I admitted, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm stuck on Maple Street."

There was a pause on the other end before Ellie replied. "Hang on. I think Walker's Auto Shop is on that street."

"Really?" I asked.

"Look around and see," she said.

"But is it even open?" I asked. "It's Saturday, and the market?—"

"Daryl isn't exactly festive," she replied. "I wouldn't be surprised if he was open."

I took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. The cold air bit at my cheeks, and I pulled my coat tighter around me. I looked up and down Maple Street, scanning the various storefronts. Evergreen Hollow always looked so magical during the holidays, each shop dressed up in its finest decorations.

To my left, a small bakery had its windows filled with an array of gingerbread houses, each one more elaborate than the last. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted out every time the door opened, mingling with the crisp winter air. A little further down, I could see a quaint bookstore, its windows frosted with fake snow. Twinkling fairy lights framed a display of classic holiday novels.

Across the street, a toy store had set up an impressive window scene with animated figures of Santa’s workshop. Tiny elves moved about, assembling toys and wrapping presents, while a miniature train circled around a snow-covered village.

I turned my head to the right and saw Walker's Auto Shop. The sign above the door was simple and unadorned, but there was something comforting about its straightforwardness. The shop itself was small and no-frills, just as Ellie had described. The large garage doors were closed, but light spilled out from behind them, casting a warm glow onto the snowy sidewalk.

"Found it," I said into the phone.

"Good luck," Ellie replied. "Call me if you need me."

I hung up and tucked my phone into my pocket before making my way across the street to Walker's Auto Shop. As I approached, I noticed the waiting room through a side window. It was quaint in its own way—mismatched chairs lined one wall, and an impressive collection of magazines cluttered a small table in the center.

I took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the office. The warmth inside was a welcome relief from the biting cold outside.

Now all I had to do was find Daryl Walker.