He just wanted to be a good neighbor by fixing her broken fence. He didn’t know that this simple woman owned half the city. When she discovered he was raising his daughter alone after being abandoned, she saw something money could never buy. The hammer pounded with a steady rhythm. Manuel watched the fence that separated his modest property from his neighbor’s.
Three broken boards, a rusty nail, and too much time neglected that boundary between worlds. “Dad, can I help you?” Lucía’s voice arrived like a breath of fresh air on that Saturday afternoon. “It’s best to watch from over there, sweetheart. I don’t want you to hurt yourself on those nails.” Manuel smiled at his daughter as he continued hammering. His greatest treasure, the only truly valuable thing he had in this life. Three years had passed since Beatriz left without explanation, leaving him with a young daughter and a mechanic’s workshop that barely provided enough to survive.“Are you making a lot of noise? Excuse the disturbance.” Manuel turned around, surprised. On the other side of the fence, Carmen watched him curiously. The woman had lived alone in that modest house for just over a year. They had barely exchanged a couple of polite greetings. Neighbors who share space, but not lives. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Carmen, I’m just fixing these planks before winter comes. I could have called someone to do it.” Carmen offered him a glass of water, which Manuel gratefully accepted.
“Neighbors help each other out,” she replied simply, taking a sip of her drink. “Besides, Lucía loves playing in the garden, and I don’t want her to hurt herself on the loose boards.” Carmen watched the little girl shyly hiding behind her father, hugging his leg as if it were her safest refuge. A smile lit up the girl’s face when their eyes met. “How old are you, Lucía?” Carmen asked, moving a little closer to the fence. “I’m very old,” the girl replied, holding up her fingers.
“And I like birds and yellow flowers.” Manuel gently stroked his daughter’s hair. “Excuse me, she’s very talkative with people she likes. It’s a compliment.” Then Carmen smiled. “Yellow flowers are my favorites too.” Lucía let go of her father’s leg and walked over to the fence, watching the woman more closely. “You live alone, you don’t have children, Lucía.” Manuel gently chided her. “Don’t ask such personal questions.” “It’s okay,” Carmen chided.
No, honey, I live alone. My job hasn’t allowed me to start a family. What do you do for a living? Children’s curiosity knew no bounds. Carmen hesitated for a second. Real estate, buildings and houses. My dad fixes cars,” Lucía said proudly. “He can fix anything that breaks. That’s why he’s fixing the fence, because he’s the best repairman in the world.” Manuel blushed slightly. “I have a small mechanic shop two blocks from here. Nothing fancy. San Miguel Shop,” Carmen agreed.
“I’ve seen him. There are always cars waiting. He must be good at what he does. I try to be honest with my customers. In a town like San Martín, reputation is everything.” A comfortable silence settled between them. Manuel went back to his work, placing a new board on the fence. Carmen didn’t leave. She watched attentively as the man’s hands, calloused from work, transformed something broken into something functional again. “They don’t have any appointments today. It’s Saturday,” Manuel remarked without stopping his work.
Carmen shook her head. “I prefer the peace and quiet of my garden to social gatherings. Dad, look what I found!” Lucía ran up with a peacock moth in her hand. She stopped in front of the fence to show it to Carmen. “It has seven spots. Do you know that means good luck?” Carmen leaned over to get a better look at the tiny insect. “It’s beautiful. And yes, I think today is a lucky day for everyone. Would you like to come and have some lemonade when Dad’s finished?” Lucía asked.
We made it yesterday and it’s delicious. Manuel was about to speak, but Carmen spoke first. “I’d love to, if your father doesn’t mind.” Their eyes met over the half-repaired fence. Manuel nodded. “Of course. A break will do us all good.” As he finished fixing the fence, Manuel couldn’t help but wonder about his neighbor. She lived simply in a house that didn’t stand out at all. Her clothes, her way of speaking, everything about her was understated.
Nothing suggested that Carmen was any different from anyone else in town. The truth, unknown to everyone in San Martín, was that Carmen Álvarez wasn’t just a real estate agent; she was the owner of Álvarez Construcciones, an empire that controlled half the properties in the province, a fortune few could have imagined, and a secret she guarded jealously, tired of self-serving relationships and false friendships. She had bought that simple house seeking peace, a place where she could simply be Carmen, not the businesswoman everyone wanted to please out of self-interest.
“That’s it,” Manuel announced, tapping the fence one last time with the hammer. “It’s not perfect, but it’ll hold up well through the winter.” Carmen surveyed the finished work. A solid fence, but with character, like the man who had repaired it. “He’s done an excellent job. How much do I owe you, Manuel?” He shook his head. “Nothing. As I told you, neighbors help each other out. I insist, your time is valuable.” “Would you be willing to exchange it for some advice, then?” “I need to buy a present for Lucía. Her birthday is coming up, and I never know what to choose.”
Carmen smiled. It was the first time Manuel had seen her smile like that, so broadly, so freely. That was a fair exchange. Lucía called to them from the small porch of the house. Lemonade awaited them in a glass pitcher and three glasses. As she crossed the newly repaired fence, Carmen felt she was crossing much more than a physical boundary. Manuel opened the small wooden gate with a certain pride in his work and invited her in with a simple gesture, but one imbued with dignity.
Manuel’s garden was small, but impeccably cared for. A swing made from a tire hung from the only tree, and a flowerbed overflowed with wildflowers, clearly planted with more enthusiasm than skill. “Lucía insisted on planting every seed she could find,” Manuel explained, noticing Carmen surveying the chaotic but colorful garden. “It’s beautiful,” she replied sincerely. “It’s alive.” They sat in mismatched chairs around a garden table that had seen better days. Lucía poured the lemonade with such concentration on her face that none of the adults dared offer assistance.
“Let’s toast,” said the little girl when she finished raising her glass. “What are we toasting to?” asked Manuel. Lucía thought for a moment. “To the new fence!” The three of them laughed and clinked glasses. “To the new fence!” the adults repeated. “And why did you decide to fix it today?” asked Carmen after taking a sip of her lemonade. “It’s been broken since we moved here, almost four years ago,” explained Manuel. “It’s always been on my to-do list, but the workshop takes up all my time.”
“My mom said she would fix it, but she left before then,” Lucía added with the innocent frankness of children. “She left when I was little.” An awkward silence followed her words. Manuel tenderly stroked his daughter’s hair. “Sometimes people take different paths,” Carmen said softly. “Beatriz decided she wasn’t meant to be a mother or a wife,” Manuel explained in a controlled voice. “She preferred to look for other opportunities.” Carmen sensed the pain behind those measured words, the wound still open.
“My mom is in the big city,” Lucía continued. “She’ll come to see me someday. Dad says she’s very busy.” Manuel looked away. Carmen understood that this was a sweet lie to protect a little girl’s heart. “And what would you like for your birthday?” Carmen asked, skillfully changing the subject. Lucía’s face lit up. “A bicycle. But Dad says maybe next year.” The girl lowered her voice as if sharing a secret. “People’s cars are breaking down less these days.”
Manuel smiled somewhat sheepishly. Things have been a bit tight at the garage. The new chain of garages on the main road is taking away our customers. Autofast, Carmen agreed, her body tensing almost imperceptibly. She knew that business well. It was one of the many companies her corporation had acquired the previous year, although the day-to-day management was handled by others. “They have better prices. Better tools,” Manuel continued. “It’s hard to compete as a family-run garage, but you actually fix cars,” Lucía chimed in.
Mr. Ramón says that at Autofast they only give them a superficial paint job. Carmen couldn’t help but laugh at the fierce way the little girl defended her father. “Customer loyalty is invaluable. I’m sure your shop will overcome this difficulty. I hope so,” Manuel sighed. “For now, we’ll manage.” The conversation flowed with surprising ease. They talked about the town, the upcoming harvest festival, and the small events that made up life in San Martín. Carmen surprised herself by sharing anecdotes from her childhood, stories she hadn’t told in years.
“And your parents?” Manuel asked at one point. “Do they live in town?” Carmen’s expression changed subtly. “They passed away a long time ago, in an accident. I was young and had to take care of everything.” “I’m sorry,” Manuel said with genuine compassion. “It was difficult,” Carmen admitted. “I had to grow up overnight, learn to handle responsibilities I hadn’t expected.” What she didn’t mention was the magnitude of those responsibilities, a business conglomerate that had grown tenfold since she took the reins.
Decisions that affected hundreds of employees. A life of gilded solitude at the height of success. “Losses shape us,” Manuel said thoughtfully. “They force us to discover strengths we didn’t know we had.” Carmen looked at him with renewed interest. This unassuming man possessed a wisdom that many of her highly paid advisors lacked. “Mr. Manuel,” a voice called from the street. An elderly man peered over the front fence. “Excuse me for bothering you on a Saturday, but the car won’t start, and we have the grandchildren visiting tomorrow.” Manuel stood up immediately.
“I’ll be right there, Don Francisco.” He turned to Carmen. “Duty calls. It was a pleasure sharing this lemonade.” “The pleasure was all mine,” she replied, getting up as well. “And thank you for fixing the fence. Come back tomorrow,” Lucía exclaimed, impulsively hugging Carmen. “Can I show you my collection of shiny stones?” Carmen, surprised by the gesture, awkwardly returned the hug. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had hugged her without expecting anything in return. “I’d love to see those stones,” she replied, her voice slightly trembling.
As Manuel walked Carmen to the small gate in the newly repaired fence, a thought crossed his mind. This woman kept secrets, like everyone else. But there was something about her that inspired trust. Perhaps it was the way she listened to Lucía with genuine interest, or how her eyes reflected a loneliness he knew all too well. “See you soon, neighbor,” Manuel said, extending his hand. Carmen shook it, feeling the warmth and strength of those fingers marked by honest work.
See you soon, neighbor. Upon returning home, Carmen paused in front of the hall mirror. She observed the simple woman who gazed back at her, so different from the powerful businesswoman who appeared in the financial magazines. For the first time in years, she felt that both versions of herself could coexist. In her office, the telephone rang incessantly. Twenty missed calls from her assistant, Ernesto, who was surely desperate to consult her about the purchase of some land, decisions that now seemed as distant as the stars.
Carmen looked out the window. Manuel had already left with his neighbor, but Lucía was still in the garden talking to the woman who was now resting on a leaf. A broken fence had been the beginning. Of what? She didn’t know yet. But for the first time in a long time, Carmen Álvarez felt curious about the future, a future that might be different from the one she had meticulously planned for years. On the horizon, the first stars were beginning to appear, silent witnesses to a seemingly chance encounter that would forever change the destiny of two people separated by much more than a simple wooden fence.
The bell at the San Miguel workshop rang faintly as Carmen pushed open the door. The smell of motor oil and freshly worked metal filled the air. Two weeks had passed since that Saturday with the broken fence. Two weeks of almost daily visits between neighbors who were slowly becoming more than just neighbors. “Just a moment, please.” Manuel’s voice came from a car lifted by the freight elevator. “No rush,” Carmen replied, taking in the modest workshop.
Manuel appeared, wiping his hands with a rag. His surprise at recognizing her was evident. “Carmen, I didn’t expect to see you here. I was passing by and thought I’d say hello.” He lied. In reality, he had canceled a meeting with foreign investors to be there. “I’m interrupting something important.” “Just the daily routine. This old sedan needs an urgent oil change.” Carmen scanned the workshop. Three cars were waiting to be serviced, tools meticulously organized on panels, invoices and papers piled on a small desk. Everything spoke of constant work, but also of financial hardship.
And Lucía isn’t with you today. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, she stays with Doña Soledad after school. She’s the neighbor across the street, an elderly lady who does me the favor of looking after her until I close up shop. It must be difficult to juggle work and raising children. Manuel shrugged. We adapt. In a small town like San Martín, people help each other out. Doña Soledad lost her son years ago and says that Lucía brought joy back into her home.
“Unexpected connections are the most valuable,” Carmen remarked, reflecting on how her own life had changed since crossing that fence. “Do you need me to check your car? Excuse my appearance, but no, it’s not that.” Carmen interrupted. “Actually, I came to invite you and Lucía to the village fair this Sunday. There will be craft stalls and music. I thought Lucía would enjoy it.” Manuel seemed hesitant. “He’s very kind, but on Sundays I usually get some work done here while it’s quiet.”
I understand, it was just an idea. An awkward silence settled between them. Manuel wiped his hands again on the cloth, a gesture Carmen had noticed was common when he was nervous. Manuel looked up, though. “Lucía’s been talking about the fair for weeks. Maybe I could make an exception for this afternoon.” The smile that lit up Carmen’s face was so genuine that Manuel couldn’t help but return it. “Wonderful. We can meet in the main square at 4. We’ll be there.”
The small church bell tower chimed in the distance, marking the hours. “It’s already 12 o’clock!” Carmen exclaimed. “I have to go. I have things to take care of.” “Of course,” Manuel agreed. “I’ll walk you to the door.” As they left the workshop, Carmen noticed curious glances from the café across the street. In a town like San Martín, news traveled at the speed of the wind. “I think they’re watching us,” she remarked with amusement. Manuel visibly tensed. “People talk, it’s inevitable. Does it bother you?” “It’s not that.” Manuel hesitated, searching for the right words.
I don’t want Lucía to suffer because of malicious rumors. She’s already been through enough. Carmen understood immediately. Your daughter’s protection always comes first. I deeply respect that. Thank you for understanding. They said goodbye with a gesture, aware of the eyes following their every move. Carmen walked to her parked car two blocks away. She didn’t want Manuel to see the luxurious vehicle that belied her simple appearance. Inside, she took out her phone and dialed a number. “Ernesto, I need you to discreetly investigate something.”
The Autofas chain and its impact on local workshops in San Martín, especially the San Miguel workshop. Of course, Mrs. Álvarez, it’s for the board meeting on Friday. No, it’s a personal matter. And Ernesto, as always, no one else should know about this—absolute discretion. Carmen hung up, aware that she was crossing a line. Her professional and personal lives were beginning to intertwine dangerously. But the image of Manuel working tirelessly in that modest workshop, while large corporations—his own corporation—threatened his livelihood, haunted her.
“Daddy, go higher!” Lucía laughed on the makeshift swing in the garden. Manuel pushed gently, carefully controlling the height. “If you go any higher, you’ll fly all the way to the moon,” he joked. “And you could say hello to the astronauts.” The sound of the gate opening interrupted them. Carmen appeared with a paper bag in her hands. “Carmen!” Lucía jumped off the moving swing, making Manuel catch his breath for a second. “Careful, sweetheart.” The little girl was already running towards Carmen, who greeted her with a smile.
“I brought something for a snack,” she announced, holding up the bag. “If you’re all okay with it, of course.” Yes, a surprise snack. Lucía jumped for joy. Manuel approached. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.” “It’s no trouble at all,” Carmen replied. “It’s just a thank you for the lemonade afternoons.” The quiet complicity between them grew as they set the garden table. Homemade muffins, fresh fruit, and hot chocolate made up the snack Carmen had brought. “This is delicious,” Manuel commented after trying a muffin. “Did you make these?” Carmen asked, hesitant.
The truth was that his personal chef had prepared them that morning following the family recipe. It’s my mother’s recipe. She always said that sharing food is sharing love. Your mother was wise. Manuel agreed. “Carmen, will you be coming to my school tomorrow?” Lucía asked suddenly. “Tomorrow is Career Day,” Manuel explained. “The parents are going to talk about their jobs, and since you work with houses, you could explain how they’re built. It would be more interesting than Mateo’s dad’s boring insurance talk.”
Carmen exchanged a glance with Manuel, who seemed just as surprised as she was by the invitation. “Lucía, Carmen surely has important commitments. We shouldn’t. I’d love to go,” Carmen interrupted. The opportunity to be a part of Lucía’s life, even if only for a day, was too tempting. “Yes, your father is fine with it.” Manuel nodded, touched by the genuine interest Carmen was showing in his daughter. “Yes,” Lucía exclaimed. “It’ll be the best introduction ever.” As Lucía ran to get her notebooks to show Carmen her school drawings, Manuel looked at her seriously.
You have no obligation. Lucía gets attached easily, but I understand you have your own life. And Manuel—” Carmen gently interrupted him. “I want to go. I really do,” Manuel seemed to be struggling with his words. “I don’t want Lucía to get her hopes up about a presence that might be temporary.” Carmen felt the weight of those words, the concern of a father who had seen his daughter suffer abandonment, a father who feared history would repeat itself. “I understand your concern, and I respect it.”
Carmen took a breath. “I can’t promise what the future holds, but I can assure you that I wouldn’t enter Lucía’s life just to disappear.” Manuel’s eyes searched for the truth in hers. Carmen held his gaze, letting him see her sincerity. “I believe you,” she finally said, “and I thank you for your honesty.” The moment was interrupted when Lucía returned with a stack of drawings, which she proudly placed in front of Carmen. “Look, this is my dad fixing cars, and this is the garden with all the flowers.”
And this one. Carmen examined each drawing with genuine attention, asking questions and praising the details. Manuel watched the scene with a mixture of joy and apprehension. His heart, closed for so long, was beginning to open again. The auditorium of the small San Benito school was packed with parents, teachers, and students. Carmen mentally reviewed her presentation, tailored to help the children understand the world of construction and urban development without revealing the scale of her business empire. “Nervous?” whispered Manuel, sitting beside her.
