It was 1898 when they first met; a blistering cold January day exact. She was only twenty-five years of age and a lowly shop worker. She stood dutifully behind the counter of the small accessories shop, waiting to greet customers as they came through the door. It wasn't the sort of job she wanted, at least not at first. She had hoped she would have been married by now, perhaps raising a family. However, things don't always go as planned and she just had to settle with what she had.
It was the chiming of the bell above the door that brought her from her day dreams. The first customer of the day had arrived. She looked up from the dark wooden counter to the man standing in front of her. He wasn't that much older than she was. At least the didn't look it. His hair was a bright and his beard just as ginger. His eyes were warm and kind. She found herself admiring his appearance, and if she hadn't been so caught up in it all, she would have noticed that he also taking interest in her.
"I'm looking for a pair of gloves," he said, his voice steady and firm. "The must be soft and easy to care for. Nothing too expensive, but nothing too cheap. Do you have anything of the sort?"
"Oh, yes, of course," she answered turning to the drawers behind her. It only took her a moment to think of the perfect pair and pull them from the drawer. "How about these? The leather is soft and won't cause your hands to perspire. They are easy to clean and won't stain. Because of materials that make them up, the price range would be just what you are looking for."
The man picked up the gloves and inspected them with trained eyes. "I see," he mused aloud. "And the stitching? It won't come undone?"
"No sir. They were made by one of the best seamstresses in the area." She watched as tugged the leather, testing the seams of the gloves. He nodded, obviously pleased with the quality.
"I'll take them," he said, setting the gloves back down on the counter for her to wrap and box. "Could you gift wrap it? They are for my wife."
Suddenly her face fell. Wife? Of course, how could she be so foolish? A man like that was bound to already been wedded. It happened every time she found someone of interest. "Of course, sir," she said softly. "Who should I make the label out to?"
"Harriet," he answered her. "From Roger."
"Roger," she repeated gently as she wrote the label.
"I didn't catch your name, miss."
"Oh? It's Josie, sir. Josie Mardle."
"Roger Grove, a pleasure, Miss Mardle," he said with a bow of his head. She could feel his eyes on her as she wrapped the gloves. "My wife is very ill. The physicians say she'll be invalid for the rest of her life. Her hands are always cold. I thought some new gloves would cheer her up a bit."
"Well, your wife is very lucky to have a husband like you," Josie responded, glancing up at him with a small smile.
"And what about you, Miss Mardle?"
"Sorry?"
"I'm sure your husband is a lucky man."
"Husband? Oh, no. I'm not married."
"Shame," Roger said as she finished wrapping the gloves and putting them into the box. He put a few notes on the counter to pay for them. "A woman such as yourself shouldn't be alone."
She felt her cheeks heat up as her hand moved to cover her face. "Oh...well...I suppose the right one hasn't come along," she managed to say, obviously flustered.
"Perhaps he will." He took the box and tucked it into his coat. "Thank you, Miss Mardle. You were a great help. I'm sure I will be seeing you again."
"I'll-I'll be here," she responded a bit breathlessly. She smiled and watched him leave the shop. She didn't know what it was about him, but she had a good feeling.