Flawed Perfection: A Collection of Winter Wishes

by Ouvrard, Jude

  Rick dipped his chin in agreement, but added, “I won’t know until I look, but I’d be surprised if the old girl has much life left in her.”

  “I know,” Aubree agree with a sigh. “I just hope to get a few more months, until my finances stabilize.”

  “I can understand that,” Rick concurred easily. “I just opened up shop myself. Daunting, isn’t it?”

  “You got that right.” Finally warm enough, Aubree tugged off her hat and pulled down the mirror to smooth her short hair back into place. Luckily, static had not yet set in. At any rate, my hair is too short to go far. “Still, I’ve been wanting to do this forever, and I finally was able to do so. I’m over the moon.”

  She glanced at Rick and saw him grinning, his teeth clean and white behind the veil of his beard. “I hear that. What business are you in, Miss Melville?”

  “Real estate,” she replied with a matching smile. “If you need a house, a workshop, or any other property to own or rent, give me a call. But do call me Aubree. Miss Melville is such a mouthful, and it sounds like a kindergarten teacher too. We’re in this together, we small business owners, so we should be friends whenever possible.”

  “I’ll do that,” he replied. “And I totally agree.”

  “So, what brings you to the area?” Aubree asked, enjoying the conversation.

  “My daughter went to college here on a scholarship,” he replied. “Her mother is from Dodge City, so she was familiar with the surrounding communities. Some of her friends came here, so she came too. She’s majoring in business management and working part-time as my office manager. I got sick of the crowding and the expense of living in LA, so I decided to give Kansas a chance.”

  “That’s a big change,” Aubree commented, regarding Rick with wide eyes. “What do you think of it?”

  He shrugged. “I’m too old for fast living, Aubree. I’ve just turned forty-five. At this point in my life, a slower pace and being close to my kid feels just right. I’m a bit cold though.”

  “I bet.” Aubree shivered. “I’ve lived here my whole life, but the cold still gets to me every. Single. Year. The good part it, it doesn’t last long. We have ‘winter’ from November to February, with temperatures ranging from the thirties to the seventies. It snows some, even into March, but overall it doesn’t last long, so that’s not too bad.”

  “Sounds tolerable,” he commented. “Um, no offense, but… does it always smell like this?”

  “Smell of money,” Aubree replied with a giggle. “There are several feedlots around the town, not to mention the beef processing plant. You’ll have to get used to it.”

  He wrinkled his nose.

  Nice nose, she thought. Bold and masculine, without being too prominent. He has decent features under all that hair.

  Being strangers, they didn’t converse further as they drove the short distance to their mutual street. Once the tow truck pulled into the mechanic shop lot, Aubree bounced down from the cab. “Thanks so much, Rick. You really saved the day. Call me, please before you do anything expensive, and let’s discuss options. Is that okay?”

  “Sure is,” he agreed. “I’ll give it a thorough once-over – that will cost about $40, along with $30 for the tow – and let you know before I do anything else. Deal?”

  Aubree sighed. “There goes my massage for the month but… it’s fair. Thanks, Rick. I’m late to a meeting, so I have to run.”

  “Wait, your number!” he called as she sprinted for the sidewalk.

  “I’m late to a meeting with a client,” she yelled over her shoulder. “I’ll call your business phone after.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Rick replied, the wind carrying his voice away until it was nearly inaudible.

  “Thank you,” she said, not sure if he would hear her. Then she looked both ways, jaywalked across the street and ducked into her office, only ten minutes late to her meeting. Naturally, Gina Showalter sat prim and pristine, every one of her teased hairs perfectly in place despite the driving wind, her hands folded in her lap. “Sorry, Mrs. Showalter. Car trouble,” Aubree said by way of excuse.

  The older woman compressed her lips in a thin line and said nothing.

  “Have you given any more thought to how you want to handle this sale?” Aubree added, indicating the door to her office with one hand.

  The woman struggled stiffly to her feet. “Yes,” she said in a cracked and sour voice. “I have decided that since you refuse to sell my house for the price I want and you very nearly stood me up today, I’ll be declining to use your services and find a competent realtor instead. You can be sure I’ll let everyone know how I’ve been treated.”

  Aubree drew her eyebrows together. “Ma’am, I did not, at any time refuse to sell your house. I only asked you to consider. If you’re determined, it’s your choice, and I would like to point out that I’m only ten minutes late. That’s hardly standing you up. However, who you chose as a realtor is up to you.”

  “I’ve been sitting here for nearly an hour,” the old woman crabbed. “And I’ve not been offered so much as a cup of coffee.”

  Aubree frowned at the cranky lady, who held one empty Styrofoam cup in her hands. Three others littered the floor around her feet. Donut crumbs dotted her crumpled polyester pantsuit. “Well, I’m very sorry to hear that. Would you like to come into my office or shall I help you to your car?” I will not be drawn into a pointless argument like this. She wants to complain, that much is clear, but this is business, and I will be professional no matter what.

  Mrs. Showalter regarded the door of the realtor’s office. Outside, a gust of wind blew several brown and wizened leaves off the branches of the nearby trees. Inside Aubree’s office, a comfortable armchair in an inviting shade of chocolate brown waited to cradle her aching joints. The woman rubbed her knee and took a rickety step toward the office. Score, Aubree thought.

  “Who is that?” Michelle demanded, staring open-mouthed at the door.

  Aubree glanced. “That’s Rick. He owns the new tow truck and mechanic shop that just opened down the street. He just towed my car to the shop. See what he wants, would you, while I deal with Mrs. Showalter?”

  “Sure,” Michelle agreed, her eyes still glued to the door.

  Shaking her head, Aubree ducked into her office to deal with her most challenging customer.

  ***

  “Do you want to tell me something?” Michelle asked the second Mrs. Showalter tottered out the door, a triumphant grin plastered on her crumpled face.

  Aubree smoothed her hair back into place and rolled her tight shoulders. “Nice little old lady, my ass. That woman could scare gangsters into submission.” Then her sister’s question registered on her consciousness. “What are you talking about?”

  Michelle wiggled her eyebrows. “That super-hot tow truck guy wanted your number. What’s that about, hon? Did you score a date finally?”

  Aubree threw her hands up in the air in disgust. “Seriously, is that all you ever think about?” she yelled. Her sister’s expression drooped. Aubree continued in a lower – but still plenty loud – volume. “Don’t be dumb, Michelle. He needs to call me and tell me how much it will cost to repair my car. It’s business, professional to customer, and not personal. Jeez, do you ever listen? I. do. Not. Need. To. date. Let it go.”

  Michelle sat blinking in shock. Then she shook herself all over. “Okay, okay. I get it. Never mind.”

  Finally. “Did you give him my card?”

  “Yes, of course.” Michelle’s head slowly turned from one side to the other as she answered. “So, what’s next on today’s agenda?”

  “The Millers want to see the house on third street later,” Aubree explained, relieved to be back to business. “I can take it if you want, but since you’ve worked with them before, I didn’t put it on my schedule.”

  “Thanks, sis,” Michelle replied, at last seeming to be back to normal. “What do you have happening?”

  “I need to meet with the escrow officer so we can finish
up paperwork on the Jimenez sale.” She sighed. “Not my favorite part of the job, but I’m glad for the family to be getting into their house soon.”

  Michelle nodded. “I know what you mean. At least Joe is friendly and professional.”

  Aubree nodded even as her insides squirmed. “He is that, for sure. Very friendly. Very professional.” At least most of the time.

  ***

  “And that wraps it up, folks,” Joe said in his quiet, unassuming voice; a voice that matched his appearance. “I’ll get this filed at my office and we will soon be done and ready for you to move into your new home.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Gomez,” Aubree said. “I appreciate your help, as always.”

  “Si, gracias, señor,” Lucy Jimenez agreed earnestly, reaching out to shake Joe’s hand. Her taciturn husband agreed with a curt nod.

  Within a few minutes, the gathered home buyers dispersed. Aubree also made her way to the door, but Joe’s thick fingers closed on her arm. “What’s the hurry, Bree?” he asked. “Don’t rush away. We can get some lunch. I’d like to talk to you.”

  “Sure, we can do that,” Aubree agreed readily, eyeing her friend. Jose ‘Joe’ Gomez stood at an average height – about 5’10, and once again revealed himself to be the most medium person Aubree had ever seen. Medium colored complexion. Medium brown hair. His figure, neither fat nor thin, pushed out the seams of his attractive suit in just the places one would expect of a man of forty. All this served to provide a backdrop for Joe’s one striking feature: eyes that straddled the line between hazel and green. They tip him over the edge from average to a bit handsome, she thought, not for the first time. As Aubree zipped up her coat and pulled on her gloves to combat another chilly autumn day, she noticed those eyes lingering on her face. Did I forget to sign something? Is my makeup messed up? My hair? She smoothed the strands and found nothing out of place. “Is everything okay?”

  Joe nodded. “Sure. You ready?” At her assent, he added, “let’s go then. I’d like to get there before the rush. You driving?”

  “My car is in the shop,” she explained. “My sister dropped me off. She’s waiting for my call, but I told her I didn’t know when.”

  “Okay then, I’ll drive, shall I?” Joe suggested. Aubree agreed with a smile, following him out to his SUV and climbing into the passenger’s seat. As they made their way through the streets of their small town, his gaze continued to slide in her direction. Aubree pulled down the mirror on the sun visor, but could find no obvious flaw in her makeup that would account for his stare. I’m afraid I know what’s on his mind. Her frowning reflection made her quickly flip the visor back up into position as he pulled to a stop outside a small, hidden-away box of a restaurant. “Is Pho Hoa okay with you?” he asked, indicating the restaurant. “If not I can head up to fast food row.”

  “Don’t you dare,” she replied playfully. “Soup sounds perfect on a cold day like today.” She jumped down from the vehicle and followed the scent of spices into everyone’s favorite local hangout. Though nearly noon, the lunch crowd had not yet arrived, and Aubree and Joe quickly found themselves seated at a table near the decorative fish tank, sipping chicory coffee with sweetened condensed milk while they waited for bowls of spiced broth and noodles to arrive.

  “So, how’s everything going?” Joe asked.

  Aubree sipped her coffee. “Fine. Can’t complain.”

  “Off to a good start?” he pressed.

  “Yes, naturally,” she agreed. “We don’t have so many realtors in town, you know? People know me, so they’re checking it out. I don’t foresee any big problems transitioning to owning my own business. Especially not with Esther retiring. No competition, you see?”

  “That’s great to hear,” he agreed. “I know how you agonized over this move. It’s great when things work out. So… if you’re in a good place financially, maybe you’re ready to consider… other things?”

  Aubree closed her eyes. Please don’t do this, Joe. “That was never the issue, you know.”

  “What do you mean?” She opened to see his hazel green eyes locked on her face.

  Aubree took a deep breath. “Listen, Joe, we’re good friends. I value our friendship a lot. I’m not dating anyone because I don’t want to, not because I’m too busy. Please, let’s not go there.”

  His warm hand closed around hers. “That’s not the impression I got last month.”

  Damn it, I was afraid this was going to happen. “I told you then, and I meant what I said, that there was nothing behind it, and you shouldn’t take it to mean anything. You do remember that conversation, right?” She slid her hand out from under his.

  “Hard to remember words in the wake of…”

  She glanced around at the diners and held up her hand, silencing him. This is a small town. Everyone knows everything. If I don’t handle this right, they will have me matched up with Joe before I can even finish this conversation. She leaned towards him and whispered, “Please don’t do this.”

  He backed up and tilted his head to one side, regarding her curiously. “Are you serious?”

  Aubree nodded. “I’m sorry if I confused you,” she breathed. “It was not my intention. Remember the conversation we had once we sobered up?”

  He squeezed his eyes. His disappointment made her heart clench. Am I being cruel? Should I give him a chance? More than ever she regretted spending the night with him after a boozy Halloween party for business owners. “I had hoped you might change your mind if I gave you some time to think about it.” He regarded her expression. “I guess you weren’t thinking about it, were you?”

  Aubree bit her lip. Should I give him a chance? It would get my mom and sister off my back if I had a date now and again. And he’s just the sort of guy I ought to date – if I were dating. He’s honest, hardworking, likeable, friendly… she studied him closely… and boring. Plus, using him because my convictions sometimes waver would only hurt him more. No, I need to be clear with myself. I will not consider dating anyone just because it’s ‘time’ or because my family thinks I should. “I’m sorry, Joe, but you know the answer to that.”

  Joe frowned. “I see. Well, I guess you know what you want then, don’t you?”

  Aubree nodded. “It’s not about my career. It’s about what I want. I enjoy being single.”

  “And you don’t enjoy my company more than your solitude?”

  Aubree raised her eyebrows. “I enjoy your company. You’re great to work with, and the odd business council meeting is made better by your presence. I hope we’re always friends, but changing the nature of our relationship? I don’t feel any compulsion to do that. I made a mistake last month. If I hurt you, it was a worse mistake. I’m sorry for your hurt, but it doesn’t change anything.”

  Whatever Joe might have said was cut off by the arrival of the soup. Huge black plastic bowls emitted a fragrant beef and cinnamon steam. Transparent noodles and strips of meat tempted her stomach to growling. While embarrassment over the lingering effects of her one moment of weakness twisted her insides, it could not overcome her appetite. Sprinkling cilantro over the soup, she grabbed a flat-bottomed porcelain spoon and took a sip of the broth, closing her eyes to savor its unexpected flavor. Yum.

  Feeling Joe’s eyes on her, she glanced. Their gazes locked, and then, with a sigh, he looked down at his lunch and let the conversation drift away.

  ***

  “Aubree?” a deep and well-modulated voice drew her attention away from the pile of paperwork on her desk. She blinked away images of 709 Susan Street, a modular home with a tiny kitchen, boring carpet and a truly spectacular family room in the basement, and met the striking blue eyes of her favorite tow truck driver.

  “Hi, Rick,” she said with a smile – a tentative one since she didn’t know what kind of news he’d be giving her on her car. “I thought you might call. Is it so bad you needed to stop by?”

  He reversed the chair her customers normally sat in and straddled it, dragging off his cap and runnin
g his hands through silver-threaded blond hair, left long on top but shaved along the sides. Like a mohawk without the gel. Yikes. The tattoos on his fingers didn’t seem to spell a word in English, though something about the symbols suggested they had more meaning than just their elegant shape. That doesn’t look like Chinese, I don’t think, but what do I know?

  “Not so bad, really,” he replied. “Your battery is shot. That’s why it wouldn’t start. I recommend you replace it. I have batteries in stock, but if you wanted to get one at the hardware store or the auto supply, it would cost less. I have no problem installing it and I dispose of used batteries.”

  “How much?” she asked

  “About $250 if you buy mine,” he replied. “Though I won’t be able to give you exact dollars and cents until I pull it all apart, which I promised not to do until I talked to you. If you buy your own, I’ll take care of the whole thing for $65.”

  “Either way sounds reasonable,” she agreed, sagging with relief. “I can afford that and only be a little over budget this month. You’d better supply the battery though. I have no idea how to choose a good one. My dad…” her voice wavered and she willed it to firmness. “This was my dad’s car. He kept it fixed up, but I don’t know how. I never took much interest in such things. I suppose he’d be rolling in his grave at the idea of me screwing up the battery.” Her attempt at levity rang false in her own ears.

  “Naw.” Rick waved away the comment with one heavily-inked hand. “Batteries just go after a while. If your dad knew cars, he’d understand it was just a timing thing. I’m sure he’d want you to head into winter with a reliable vehicle. Which brings me to my other point.”

  “Shoot,” Aubree said, not sure if it was a light curse or a suggestion to proceed.

  “Your transmission is shaky. It’s hard to say when it will give way completely.”

  Transmission sounds expensive. “Can you fix it?”

  “I can replace it,” he offered. “I do that. But you’ll have to understand that to replace the tranny would cost a couple of thousand, which is more than your car is worth. If it has sentimental value, or if you’re really strapped for cash, you might consider doing that. However, my best recommendation is to start looking for a new car.”