I do not own Once.
Yawning, Belle shuffled into Mr. Gold's shop early the next morning. She spent most of the previous night crying over the argument she had with her father. She just didn't get his vendetta against Mr. Gold, who was a perfectly nice man. He was just a little rough around the edges. There was nothing wrong with him.
She also spent a few hours researching how to fix wrecked books, the reason she was here in the first place. While it looked easy in the videos she watched, she had no idea whether she could fix Gold's books.
The bell over the door chimed, signaling her entrance. She had never been in Gold's shop, but she was always curious to what was inside. She wasn't brave enough to step in by herself, and none of her friends would go in with her. Her mouth fell open as she looked around.
The shop was dim, and filled with thousands of objects of all sort. It looked like a jumble of junk, but as Belle walked around, she saw it was neatly organised. A collection of antique tea sets were guarded in a case of glass. She saw a tall grandfather clock, with a smaller matching one beside it. Hanging from the ceiling was a baby mobile with beautiful glass unicorns. The sun shone on them, projecting a rainbow prism on a golden candelabrum.
She was drawn to another glass case that held jewelry. There was an assortment of beautiful engagement rings, some tarnished bracelets that needed polishing. A silver necklace looked like something straight out of a fairytale, fit for a princess.
"See anything you like, dearie?"
Belle jumped, and pressed her hand to her chest. Mr. Gold had materialized from a backroom that Belle hadn't noticed.
She looked back down at the case. "Everything is so beautiful. I couldn't pick."
Gold walked to the other side of the case. "Looking for a wedding ring to tell your beloved to buy you?"
Belle laughed. "I would if I had one. But if I did, I'd hope he could pick one without my help."
Gold's lips twitched. "Come on back, Miss French."
She followed him back to the other room. While the front of the shop was full of beautiful objects, the back held broken items that looked like Gold tried to fix. Unfinished projects were spread out everywhere. A large desk occupied most of the space, and was piled with papers and tools.
Gold picked up a small stack of books. "Here they are."
Belle took them from him gingerly, and gasped. "This is my favorite book!"
She set down the books except for the one on top. She gently turned it over in her hands, admiring it. "Jane Eyre. I read it while I was gone. I loved it." She examined the other books. They weren't in bad shape, considering how old they were. "I think I can fix them. Might take a while though."
Gold nodded. "You're welcome to stay here and work on them."
Belle looked up at him. "Are you sure? Won't it be a bother to you?"
He waved away her concerns. "Not a lot of customers come in here, Miss French. You won't be a bother at all."
She smiled at him. "I'll do my best, Mr. Gold."
Almost two hours later, Belle figured she did her best. She found some heavy objects, and set them on the books to aid the drying process. She stood up, and stretched her back. She wandered into the front of the store where Gold was reading some papers. She ran her fingers along a bookshelf, and frowned at the dust.
"It's dusty in here," she said to him. "I wouldn't think a man like you would let your things look bad."
"I'm a very busy man, Miss French," he replied without looking up from his work.
She frowned. She strutted to the backroom, and found an old duster under a pile of screws. She went back to the bookshelf, and started dusting, making sure to get every nook and cranny.
"What are you doing?" Gold asked irritably.
"Cleaning," she said simply, standing on her tippy toes to get the higher shelf.
"Why?"
She sighed, and looked at him. "Because it's dirty. I'm trying to make things look nice."
He frowned. "It does look nice."
She scoffed, "You can barely see it through this dirt."
"Don't you have work to do? I don't recall hiring a maid."
She shrugged. "I'm done. I'm waiting for them to dry."
"Surely you rather be doing something else," he said, exasperated.
She went back to her work. "I don't have anything else to do. I don't have a job, and everyone I know is at work."
He shook his head. "Fine. Just try to stay out of my way."
They worked in silence for a few minutes. She stood back to admire to her work. "That looks much better." She bumped into a large object, and put her hand on it to steady it. "Is this a spinning wheel?"
She sat down on the stool next to it, and turned the wheel slowly.
"Yes." Gold came to stand beside her.
"Do you use it?" she asked him, noticing the basket of yarn beside it.
He nodded. "Every day."
"Every day? Why?"
"You're a curious thing, aren't you?" he said sharply.
She laughed. "Sorry. My mother used to give me grief about that too. 'Stop asking questions!' she used to say."
Gold went back to his work. "Your mother is a smart woman."
"Yes, she was," Belle said softly, turning the wheel over and over.
A few hours later, Belle checked on her books. They seemed to be holding together nicely. She nodded in satisfaction. She carried them to show Gold. "I think they're all better."
He studied them, and nodded. "All looks to be in order. Thank you, Miss French."
She put her coat on. "It was my pleasure, Mr. Gold. Thank you for getting me out of the house."
He handed over a few crisp bills. She gasped at the amount. "Oh, this is too much Mr. Gold."
She tried to hand some back, but he shook his head. "For the extra work you did."
She shrugged. "It was no big deal." She walked to the exit. "I'll see you later, Mr. Gold."
She was about to push the door open, when he called to her. "Wait."
Belle turned back to him curiously.
"It does look rather nice in here," he said stiffly. "How would you feel about doing some more?"
Her face broke into a grin. "I thought you said you didn't hire a maid," she teased.
"Would you be interested?" he asked her.
She cocked her head. "How about we make a deal?"
"A deal?" he repeated.
"I'll work for you, but you have to promise to not call me Miss French," she said. "My name is Belle."
He pursed his lips, and nodded. "We have a deal."
She laughed lightly. "I'll see you tomorrow then, Mr. Gold."
"I'll see you tomorrow, Miss… Belle."
AN: Thank you for all the kind reviews. I promise you'll see Lacey soon.
