Danny hung up the phone and crossed off the name of the last reputable auto repair shop within easy driving distance of Madoka’s home. Nobody had any appointments available until after Christmas. Every shop was overrun with people having their snow tires mounted for the Winter, or having last-minute repairs done before they drove off for the holidays.
He regretted that he hadn’t planned this earlier, but he had procrastinated, and now he was running out of options.
With a sigh of resignation, Danny accepted the truth. His fears had become real. He would have to call Santiago’s.
Santiago’s was the best–all of his customers agreed, and enthusiastically recommended Santiago’s to their friends, who were then disappointed to discover that Santiago had a waiting list several years in length for new customers. Santiago’s could afford to be selective.
Danny knew that Santiago’s crew would do the work expertly, quickly, and charge him a reasonable price. Danny also believed that he could get an appointment at Santiago’s. He’d always been able to get into Santiago’s on short notice before. He was on a first-name basis with half of the staff.
But Danny also knew that by taking Madoka’s car to Santiago’s, he was taking a terrible risk. He didn’t know how Santiago, proprietor and soul of Santiago’s Automobile Repair, Improvement, and Enhancement Shop might feel about working on Madoka’s car, and dreaded having to explain the reason for having the work done.
I’m not doing anything wrong, Danny told himself. People must do this sort of thing all the time. Well, some of the time. Occasionally. But the rarity of an event has nothing to do with whether it is moral or ethical, he rationalized.
Danny suspected that the fact that he was about to do something he didn’t want to explain to his mechanic was probably a sign that something wasn’t quite right, but then he reconsidered. He really wasn’t doing anything wrong–he was just doing something that he didn’t want to explain. His reasons were personal, and Danny treasured his privacy.
Danny took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he dialed the number from memory.
“Hello, this is Santiago’s Automobile Repair, Improvement, and Enhancement Shop,” answered a feminine voice with a drawling southern lilt. “How may I help you?”
Danny immediately recognized the voice of Cherry, last name unknown and perhaps unknowable, the receptionist, maitre’d, and majordomo of Santiago’s.
“Hello, Cherry. This is Danny Frenelli. I’d like to make an appointment for a winter service.”
Danny was careful not to claim that it was for his own car.
“Danny! How are kids? And how is Mary?”
“Everyone is great. The kids are very excited about Christmas. We’re hosting this year.”
“Ah, that’s great. They must be excited to have the whole family up. So, is this for the Saab, or the Toyota?”, responded Cherry, switching back to business.
“Neither. It’s a different car. I haven’t ever brought this one in. It’s a Mitsubishi Galant, 2002. Not sure exactly what trim level.”
“What exactly do you need?”
Danny could hear the surprise and curiosity in Cherry’s voice, but decided to ignore it.
“Snow tires, fluids and filters, new battery. I need a cold-weather battery. I’ve got the tire size if you need it.”
“Don’t worry; we’ve got the tires. We see a lot of those.” Cherry paused. “You need this right away?”
“I need to have it done before Christmas. I know that it’s short notice. Don’t sweat it if you haven’t got time.”
“Before Christmas? What color is the car?”
The question surprised Danny. “It’s red. Burgundy. Something like that.”
Danny could almost hear Cherry thinking, and he dreaded what her next question might be.
“Can you be here in an hour? We can get it done by closing. It’s not a hard service and the guys have been putting on snow tires.”
“That’s fantastic. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Danny–one thing. Could you park it around back? Instead of in the front? It’ll be quicker that way. Trust me.”
“I’ll see you in less than an hour. Thanks again.”
Danny hung up, reached for his shoes, and considered who to call next: Madoka, who would have to walk home from the bus stop because he wouldn’t have her car back until that evening, or Mary, to tell her she’d be late for dinner.
Might as well start with the easy one. He dialed Mary’s cell phone.
