Free Licking His Cane by Viola Grace Page A

her pocket. “I would say you have a morale problem or someone wanted to slow you down.”
    Harold Derkeson blinked down at the fork in her hand.
    Belinda hit the power unit for the cookie press, and she turned the whole thing off. She passed him the fork and continued with the inevitable.
    “Well, it is working now, so I will just get my things and get on to my next call.” She nodded and gathered her wrenches.
    She took out her phone, and she thumbed the screen until the invoice was sent. Belinda smiled brightly. “I arrived quickly, I would appreciate payment quickly.”
    “Yes. Yes, of course.” He looked down at the fork, and he was obviously still stunned.
    She grabbed her kit and headed out the back door. It was always painful to see that moment of realization when they suspected that the machines had been killed on purpose.
    Every time she had fixed a unit in the last few weeks, she had enjoyed the power of bringing something thought dead back to life.
    The energy of Christmas was hope to some, but since she had become embedded in it, she appreciated the power to shift through the darkest days and come out on the other side. It was survival. She wasn’t able to extend that to humans, but she could definitely show it to machines. Most of the equipment was far older than the workers who loaded it, and its silent ability to fill the hearts and minds of those who consumed their products with memories from generations past was definitely something worth preserving.
    Sweet Repairs was her contribution to preserving that bit of the holidays for the next few generations. Bel felt like she was finally doing something for Christmases future instead of just on Christmas Eve.
    She started up her vehicle and drove the panel truck off into the false dawn.
     
    Five hours of sleep was not enough, but her phone woke her with an annoying rendition of Jingle Bells.
    She cleared her throat and answered with a cheery chirp. “Sweet Repairs. How can I help you?”
    “Hello; you have been recommended to me by one of the local bakeries. I have a problem with one of my candy rollers, and we need it back online as quickly as possible.”
    “Where are you?”
    “Rex’s Candies on Fourth and Main.”
    “See you in an hour.”
    “Thank you. I am Rex by the way.”
    “Bel. I will be on my way shortly.”
    She hung up, but she heard him say something in a surprised tone. She would have to ask him about it when she met him. His tone was something she could listen to forever. It rang through the phone like bells in the night.
    She ran her hands over her face and smacked her romantic sensibilities. She had a job to do.
    The shower wasn’t strictly necessary as she had one after she came home, but it helped clear the cobwebs.
    She braided her hair tightly against her skull and tucked it under before getting dressed. Her boiler suit was blindingly white, as suited someone working with food. She could see the smallest speck of anything inappropriate on her clothing for her clients.
    She listened to the pop of the toaster and rescued the bagel from purgatory before slathering it with cream cheese. It was white and would not show as she left her small apartment near her workshop and got into her truck.
    The winter air kissed her skin and tickled the snowflake on her neck. It suited her work with machines to have a silvery snowflake on her skin, visible to all. Most folks mistook it for a gear.
    She followed the directions of her GPS and lucked into a parking spot in front of Rex’s Candies. It was more than luck to find a spot on this bustling street, and part of her smirked as she settled into place.
    She slung her toolkit over one shoulder and forged her way into the shop. Normally, she would have gone around the back, but delivery trucks blocked the lane.
    Laughter filled the space, and it was nice to hear it in a place where folks were usually fighting for the last gingerbread house.
    It was near eleven and the customers were