Snowflake Repairs sits tucked between the post office and the candy shop, its windows fogged from the heater inside. The bell jingles when I step in, and Clarence looks up from his workbench.
“Well, hello, my friend. So, what brings you in?”
I pull the watch from my pocket and set it on the counter. “Found this. Thought maybe you could take a look.”
Clarence leans in, turning it over with delicate fingers. “Lovely piece. This belonged to Noelle Jolly’s grandmother, if I’m not mistaken. It’s hers now?”
I nod, afraid my voice will give me away if I talk about Noelle.
“Mmhmm.” He opens the back with a tiny screwdriver, squinting through his glasses. “The mechanism’s worn, but not beyond saving. Might take a few hours, maybe a day.”
“That’s fine.”
He looks up at me then, his sharp eyes seeing more than I’d like. “You look like a man who’s trying to fix something important.”
I huff out a laugh. “Guess so.”
He sets the watch down carefully. “Funny. Things break, stop, stall… but that doesn’t mean they’re finished. Just means you’ve got to give them a reason to start working again.”
I glance at the watch. “Are you saying I should try and fix things with her?”
Clarence smiles faintly. “I’m saying maybe this isyourtime, son. Don’t let it slip away just because you’re scared it’s broken.”
I leave the shop as the snow starts to fall harder. Clarence is right.
Maybe Noelle and I have been missing each other for years; not only because the timing was wrong, but because neither of us ever showed the other how we felt.
Something has to change.
Chapter Seven
NOELLE
The bell above the diner door jingles for the hundredth time, and I paste on another smile that feels about as natural as tinsel in July.
“Hi, welcome to Jolly’s! We’re out of Christmas Dinner Melts until tomorrow, but we’ve got the Candy Cane Club and the all-new Jingle Jam…”
The customers keep coming, smiling, taking photos of their food, and I pretend that everything is wonderful. Like I didn’t wake up tangled in Gabriel Frost’s sheets yesterday and leave before he could say a word.
I move on autopilot, taking orders, wiping counters, refilling mugs. Anything to stop my brain from replaying the way his hand brushed my hair back, or the way his voice went low when he said my name.
When the rush slows as the daylight fades, Avery bursts through the door, her red pom-pom hat crooked, cheeks flushed. She drops onto a stool at the counter like a woman on a mission.
“Okay,” she says, pointing a mittened finger at me. “You’ve been spacing out since I got my coffee. Spill it, Jolly.”
“There’s nothing to spill.”
She gives me a look. “You’ve got an expression like stale turkey and you’re hiding something from me. And you look like you’re about to cry.”
I sigh. “Fine. I stayed at Gabriel’s yesterday.”
Her jaw drops. “Youwhat?”
I groan. “Please don’t make this weird.”
“Oh, I amabsolutelymaking this weird. Was it good? Wait… of course it was good.”
I can’t help smiling, even though it hurts. “It was… perfect.”
