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Saturdays were his least favorite day at the shop.
Callum loved his work, but when Bae wasn't in school he wanted to spend every free moment enjoying his boy. Today it couldn't be helped. Customers ran errands on weekends and he felt obligated to be open from 12 noon to 5 p.m. Unfortunately, he was handling more than just his son today; one Saturday a month he watched Grace while Jefferson entertained 12 consecutive hours of back-to-back fitting appointments at his boutique.
For now, the youngsters were content playing a game of checkers on the workroom floor while he manned the front of the shop. Wrapping up a filigree necklace for David Nolan, a birthday present for his girlfriend Mary Margaret, Gold glanced at the clock, allowing his thoughts to wander. Just another 45 minutes and he could close for the weekend and take the kids to the park.
Would Belle like to come along on their outing?
Since their first dinner at Granny's nearly one month ago, Callum had visited the sweet brunette's book room on several afternoons, always with Bae in tow and on a quest for more comic books. Each time, Belle introduced him to a new tea: he had tried gingerbread black tea, pumpkin spice brulee oolong tea, ginger coconut rooibos tea, jade citrus mint green tea, lavender peach white tea and a host other flavors. His favorite teas were strong and black, but he was helpless to resist Belle's enthusiasm whenever she discovered a new blend. "I have something special for you to try," she would say with a hint of mystery, ushering him to one of her tiny tables and asking him about his day while he sipped. Always she had some kind of pastry or sweet to complement the tea she served, along with cookies for Bae.
Those quiet moments over steaming cups of tea and light conversation about books, spinning, and Maine winters were the fragile beginnings of their courtship. Callum moved forward cautiously; he had never been very good with women and his social life was limited to parent-teacher conferences and evenings with Jefferson, Bae, and Grace. He still hadn't worked up the nerve to ask Belle on a proper date—just the two of them. For one, Bae's presence made them both more comfortable; two, he and Baelfire were a package deal and anyone he had a relationship with had to have a wonderful rapport with his son; and three, Belle was still an enigma. At moments she was warm, tactile, and flirtatious; at others she was cautious, taciturn, and on edge. Part of him feared she would simply disappear one day.
Placing the finishing touch on David Nolan's gift—a gold cloth ribbon woven on his own loom—Gold presented the package. "Thank you, Mr. Nolan. Is there anything else I can do for you today?" As usual, he was carefully courteous.
"I'm all set. You think Mary Margaret's going to like this?" David asked anxiously, tapping the wrapped box in his hands.
"It's an exquisite piece for a lovely young woman. You chose well," Gold assured him and sent the charming Mr. Nolan on his way.
Locking the display case, Callum realized the background noises of childlike conversation and laughter were conspicuously absent. Pivoting back toward the workroom, he scanned the back of the shop. He frowned; Grace and Bae were nowhere in sight. Then the side door swung open and he heard giggling as his son and his friend crept back into the shop in the seven-year-old's version of stealth. Which is to say, they weren't the least bit quiet. Two sets of eyes widened as they took in Callum's stern expression.
"Caught you!" Gold announced with a hint of triumph. "And just where have you been?"
"Papa!" Blushing furiously, Bae pulled a guilty face and quickly moved his hands behind his back. "How—how long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough," Callum narrowed his gaze, sensing trouble. "What are you hiding, Baelfire Gold?"
The bell over the front door jingled, signaling the arrival of another customer and Gold sighed. "We'll continue this conversation later," he hissed. "Behave!"
"Yes, Papa. Yes, Uncle Callum," two angelic voices chorused.
Tossing them a harangued look, he turned on his heel, and immediately collided with Zelena Greenlea.
Zelena careened into his arms, causing his cane to clatter to the wooden floor—really, he hadn't bumped her that hard—and Gold stifled a groan. This was not going to be pleasant.
"Miss Greenlea, my apologies," he began, pushing her lightly away from his body and bending to retrieve his cane. "I wasn't expecting you to be there. This is my workroom and all the merchandise is in the front of the shop." He gestured, trying to propel her back towards the front of the store, but she was still clinging to his shoulders.
"Callum," she chided, ignoring his hint that customers weren't welcome in his private workspace. "We've known each other many years. When will I finally convince you to call me Zelena?" She pouted, making a moue with her ridiculous red mouth. "Darling, I'm still a wee bit dizzy. You don't mind if I hold on to you a little longer, do you?"
He gritted his teeth through a tight-lipped smile. "Why don't we go out to the showroom and find you a place to rest while I help you with…whatever it is you're here for?"
Closing his eyes briefly, he summoned his last threads of patience. Just play the game. Though Zelena Greenlea had harassed him for years, she was respected in Storybrooke whereas he was regarded with scrutiny. Circumventing her was always tricky, but not impossible.
Zelena had been Milah's best friend. Even during their marriage, Zelena had made no secret of her interest in Callum. Unwilling to take No for an answer, she persisted in throwing herself at him—with Milah's blessing.
"A willing woman should be taken advantage of, Callum," Milah had laughed darkly. "Zelena likes you. She finds you attractive. There's no accounting for taste, I suppose," she had snorted.
He colored with shame at the ugly memory of his own wife foisting him off on another woman.
Tossing her long strawberry blonde locks, Zelena gave him a sultry look. "It's nearly five o'clock. Let's go out for drinks," she suggested.
"Can't, thanks. I'm babysitting," he said brightly, happy to have a ready reason to turn her down.
"Little urchins," she huffed. "Isn't there someone else who can watch them?"
"Afraid not." He arched a dark brow at her, swallowing his ire.
"Hello, Callum. Miss Greenlea. Am I interrupting something?" Belle. Her voice was crisp and Callum caught his breath. She was breathtaking in a royal blue dress with a flared skirt, a belt cinching her petite waist, and soft brown leather boots. Her auburn curls hung in loose waves down her back.
"Actually…" Zelena snapped, but Callum was quicker.
"Not at all, Belle," he hurried to her side, taking her small, chilly hands in his and giving them a tight, welcoming squeeze. "Miss Greenlea was just telling me how much she enjoys children."
"Miss French," Zelena nodded coldly, choosing to ignore the insult. "How are things at the bore—I mean—the book shop?"
"How terribly droll you are, Miss Greenlea." Belle smiled glacially. "As it happens your copy of Witchy Pleasures just arrived with the Saturday morning shipment. Had I known you would be here I'd have brought it with me. Pity."
The women exchanged hard stares, circling each other, and Gold was secretly pleased by Belle's frosty attitude toward Zelena. Was it general dislike of the other woman? Or was she possibly…jealous?
Hearing Belle's voice, Bae and Grace came rushing out to greet her. "Belle!" Bae grinned widely. "I didn't think I would see you today! You've never been in here before." He threw his little arms around her neck and enveloped her in a tight hug.
Laughing, she returned his embrace and smiled at Grace. "I'm here to order some cloth from your dad. My shop needs some festive curtains for the holiday season. Besides, I'm overdue for my first visit to this fine establishment. I hear the owner is a master spinner as well as a procurer of fascinating and difficult-to-find objects." She looked at Gold fondly.
"I believe I was here first," Zelena interrupted again, discomfited by the familiarity between Callum and the saucy bookworm. Everyone in Storybrooke knew that Callum Gold belonged to her.
Four pairs of eyes turned to stare at her. "What?" she complained. "It's true."
"It's not that," Bae said solemnly, trying to keep a straight face. "It's just that…well, you have something in your hair."
Zelena's hands flew to her scalp, frantically feeling around until a large, hairy spider crawled down her forehead. She screamed, a high-pitched wail. "Get it off! Get it off!" she begged, until Gold showed some mercy and plucked the creature from her face.
When he returned from releasing the spider outside, Grace and Bae were rolling on the floor in a fit of giggles. Belle smothered a laugh behind her hand.
Enraged, Zelena stomped out the door, throwing a threat over her shoulder: "You'd best be careful, Gold. My influence in this town is considerable." The door slammed hard enough to send the bell crashing to the floor.
"Is that what you two were doing out in the alley earlier? Hunting for insects?" Gold's mouth twitched in amusement.
"Yes, Papa," Bae confessed. "Are we in trouble?"
"It's too fine a day for punishments," he declared. "What would you say to a trip to the playground and ice cream instead?"
"Yea!" The children squealed.
Gold laughed. "Go get your coats. I want you bundled up tight." He turned to Belle. "After we discuss your fabric, would you like to come for a stroll in Storybrooke Park?"
"Yes, I would love to," she beamed.