#sneezey

Marcus’ eyes darted over to Jefferson once again, his breathing picking up in speed, his thumb and forefingers rubbing together as he tired to calm his rising anxiety.

“Bless you!” Jefferson called, walking over to stand at Marcus’ side. He grinned as he leaned his forearm on his shorter friend casually. “Maybe you should talk to Dr. Whale about that, hmm?”

Mr. Clark tucked away his handkerchief as he nodded. “Yes well -- “

“Oh! Are you snagging up this piece?” Jefferson questioned, pulling away from Marcus. “ I had a friend with his eye on it for a while when it was listed online. He’s going to be disappointed to hear someone beat him to it!”

Jefferson reached out to snag the tag off the antique, gesturing towards the other counter. “Let me get you rung up.”

Mr. Clark nodded wordlessly and followed him over to the register without a word of protest, leaving Mr. Gold to his own devices.

xxxxx

The rest of the morning had gone fairly smoothly after that. The customers had adored Grace along with her baked goods. It really had added to the ‘small town’ atmosphere in just the right way.

While he wouldn’t consider it a booming success, he wouldn’t call it a failure either. The traffic of the town folk was steady throughout the day, all curious about the new shop and to see its wears. By the end of the day the shop had done fairly well with sales, as Marcus predicted, the smaller items were in larger demand. However, a first time customer could turn into a long-term customer, and with items being added on a weekly basis they would return.

With Jefferson and Grace at his side he was able to navigate the trickier tricker parts of communication with customers. Although Jeff shot him a look when he refused to sign while one was in the room. He had a feeling they would have a discussion about that later on.

Grace had even offered up helpful hints as to what each person had hobbies and interests in. When asked why she knew such details, she simply chalked it up to being a spy. The idea of little Grace dressed all in black being lowered from the ceiling of the National Museum of Natural History in order to steal the Hope Diamond only added to the humor of the idea.

The pair of them had been a dream team and Marcus couldn’t complain when it came time to get Grace home and fed dinner. He gave them both a tight hug before waving them off, promising that he would be home after the shop closed for the night.  

Marcus had sat down in the back for a short break after making a cup of tea when the high-pitched ringing of the bell above the door caught his attention. The sound was within his hearing rage, even without his hearing aids, so he had opted not to get an alert and notification system.

With a sigh he set his cup aside on the desk knowing it would end up ice cold and untouched, quickly heading out to the sales floor to greet the customer.

“Good —”

Marcus stopped short of his greeting as his eyes landed on the petite brunette that was currently browsing the shop. She didn’t seem to have heard him as she was absorbed in studying the objects and art throughout the shop.

Her chestnut brown curls framed her face as they cascaded over her shoulders, standing out in contrast against the light gray cardigan, layered over a floral blouse. The top was tucked neatly into a pleated black box skirt and while tights hid her shapely legs they lead down to a pair of tall stilettos.  

He opened his mouth again to speak just as her focus shifted, her gaze landing on him, finally picking up on the fact someone else was in the room.

“Hello!” she greeted, her smile large and warm.

Marcus was hopeless in doing anything but returning it in kind, his cheeks burning in embarrassment as he glanced away for a moment. He hadn’t meant to stare, but nodded in reply to her greeting.

“I saw your hours posted outside but I didn’t have a chance to come by earlier. You just opened today, right?”

He moved a tad closer to the woman, standing behind the counter as he lowered his gaze to her lips. She had a warm and rich accent with vowels that were just a bit to wide and open to catch everything she said clearly.

A nod seemed to satisfy her when he caught on to a few words, reaching behind his right ear to turn up the volume on the hearing aid, careful not to expose it from under his shaggy hair.

“I’ve only been here a couple minutes and it's already like I’ve taken a trip around the world! You have so many things here, there must be so many stories behind all if it.” Her lips spread into a smile with a light giggle following them.

“I’m Belle, by the way. Belle French.” She offered out her hand across the counter for him to accept, shaking his in turn. “You must be Mr. Gold. I run the library across the street.”

Marcus looked up to her eyes to make contact, finding the various shades and hues of glittering blue in them impossible to describe. He only had a moment to take them in before his attention dropped back to her lips, doing his best to read them; trying and failing not to notice how soft they looked.

“Do you collect all of this yourself? How far do you travel for your work?” Belle questioned, walking down the length of the counter, her fingers lightly ghosting over a few items on display. “Must have taken you a lifetime to bring all of this together…”

Belle stopped to observe a rather intricately detailed gold-metal clock that sat on the counter, steadily ticking as it tracked the minutes and hours across its face. With the hands reading downwards to display that it was five thirty-seven, it offered the appearance of a mustache.

“This is French, is it not?” she questioned, looking over her shoulder.

Marcus’ brows furrowed together until he caught onto the word ‘French’ and offered a nod of confirmation. Her warm voice was enjoyable to listen to yet her Australian accent threw not only his hearing off, but his lip-reading as well.

All accents caused people to have unique vocalizations but also different mouth positions when speaking… and reading an Australian accent was not something he had much practice with.

“France is on my list of places to travel,” Belle explained, “considering its my namesake it seemed an obvious country to visit.” She looked back to the timepiece, reading the hands once again.

“Oh shoot! I am so sorry, Mr. Gold! I wasn’t paying attention to the time at all, I’ve kept you past closing time.” Belle adjusted the strap of her purse where it was hanging on her shoulder before offering him another smile, heading towards the door.

His eyes flicked up across her face to read her expression only to be drawn back to her mouth, finding that it shared the same delighted look as the rest her.

“Looks like I’ll have to add your shop to my travel plans as well,” she noted with a chuckle. “It’s a great deal closer than France. Have a good evening, Mr. Gold.” Belle waved before she stepped out of the shop, the door closing behind her.

Marcus released a long breath that he hadn’t known he was holding, allowing himself to be in the moment to decompress the whirlwind that was Belle French.

Out of everything that Marcus had predicted to happen that day, one or two of them had come true; being left breathless and dumbfounded had not been one of them.

Chapter Notes: