Page 2 of Winter Wish

Ezra Curtis gritted his teeth as he navigated around yet another cluster of blue hairs inching toward the casino, undoubtedly intent on squandering their Social Security checks. Honestly, someone should staple slow-moving vehicle signs to their backs. Maybe that’d speed them up.

The heat hit him like a hammer as he reached the hotel’s entrance. This trip was one irritation after another. From the sycophantic ass-kissing of the Wheels Network execs pitching their reality show—insisting America would love another look inside a garage, this time against the picturesque mountains of Wintervale, Montana—to the snail-paced octogenarians clogging every walkway, every moment gnawed at his last fraying nerve.

And then there were the staffing issues.

Ezra snorted, his disgust palpable. Weeks later, the betrayal that caused those problems still felt like acid clawing its way up his throat. Antacids didn’t help. Neither did bourbon.

Staffing issues, for Christ’s sake—a problem that could make or break their business and the Wheels deal. The truth was, they needed the influx of cash from the show, plus the product endorsements and the tourism dollars it could bring to Wintervale.

But with him and Aaron both away, Curtis Garage was barely limping along, held together by a skeleton crew. What a fucking joke. He didn’t have to like the situation, but he’d damn well handle it. Sometimes doing what was best for everyone else was the hardest thing to stomach.

As the head of the family and the business, Ezra carried his responsibilities like a badge of honor. He didn’t run when things got tough, and he never turned his back on those who depended on him.

“Are you even listening?” Aaron’s exasperated voice dragged Ezra from his thoughts. He swallowed the bitter tang of regret, refocusing on whatever his brother was ranting about now.

“Stop worrying this to death, Ezra. It makes perfect sense! God, it’s like kismet, destiny, or some kind of divine fucking intervention is dropping the perfect opportunity right into our laps. We’d be idiots not to take advantage.”

Ezra had no idea what his brother was rambling about—and he told him so. His gaze drifted over the automotive projects and displays in the convention center, but beyond the car and trade show, he didn’t have a single clue what Aaron was worked up about. Frankly, he didn’t give a damn. There was plenty of shit back home demanding his attention. Just one more night of flashing lights, bells, whistles, and Elvis impersonators, and he could finally get back to work where he belonged.

“Look around, you dumbass,” Aaron shot back, undeterred. “AMAC is hosting the first-of-its-kind hiring event. Twenty-three certified mechanic trade schools, all in one place, with the best and brightest from each school right here, ready for open interviews!”

Ah, fuck. Not this again.

Ezra started to shake his head, but Aaron plowed ahead, his words spilling out faster, driven by a near-desperate urgency.

“There are at least one hundred and fifty fresh graduates right under our noses. You’re telling me we can’t find one or two who’ll meet our needs and be willing to move to Montana?”

Ezra reluctantly took a closer look at the nearest booths. Most of the candidates milling around were fresh-faced and eager, but there were a few older guys scattered among them too. Yeah, fresh out of school and green as hell—probably in desperateneed of real-world training. Babysitting was not on Ezra’s to-do list.

“We already know what we’re willing to offer someone with experience,” Aaron continued, as if reading Ezra’s thoughts. “For someone just starting out, we could offer a temporary or probationary position with a baseline salary. If the guy works out? Awesome. Give him a bump in pay and the full benefits package. If not? Send him packing, and we’re no worse off than we are now, right?”

Ezra hated making snap decisions; he preferred taking his time, weighing problems from every angle. Still, it had been weeks, and no one qualified had responded to the ads he’d placed.

“Finding affordable housing could be a problem,” he admitted. Rental properties were listed at a premium in their little tourist town.

“Manny has an extra room he might be willing to rent out for a bit,” Aaron suggested. “Or, if you’re open to it…we could clean out Uncle Grant’s place. Turn it into an affordable room-and-board incentive.”

Ezra smoothed his fingers over his mustache and beard, a habitual gesture whenever he was deep in thought.

Grant’s place was an efficiency apartment built above the garage at their family home. Neither he nor Aaron used it—they stilllived in the main house, the one their parents had built a few years before things had gone to shit between them. Ezra shoved thoughts of his parents aside and instead focused on Aaron’s suggestion.

He nodded reluctantly. It would take some work, but it was probably time. Other than clearing out the fridge and cupboards, the apartment had been left untouched since his uncle had died. It hadn’t been cleaned in more years than Ezra cared to count.

“Call Manny,” Ezra said finally. “See if he’d be willing to host someone and what he’d charge for room and board. If that doesn’t pan out, we’ll go with Grant’s place.”

He needed a game plan. Doing things on the fly made him anxious and irritable, but this was an opportunity they couldn’t dismiss just because of his need for control.

Once again, Aaron seemed to know exactly what Ezra was thinking and quickly offered a plan to ease his rising anxiety. “Let’s take a walk through and observe before approaching anyone. We’ll make a list of potential candidates.”

“Yeah, good idea. After lunch, we can start the interrogations. They’ll be more relaxed.” And so would he. Waiting would give him time to adjust.

“Uh, don’t you mean interviews?” Aaron asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Isn’t that what I said?” Ezra shot back, curling his upper lip in a sneer that could turn even the best Elvis impersonator green with envy.

Aaron shook his head and grinned at his brother. “Let’s get to it, then.”

***

---