Yeah, so I've definitely gone insane! Anyways, welcome to Abby's. Hope you enjoy :)
DISCLAIMER: Sound of Music isn't mine!
3:39 p.m., Tuesday, Von Trapp Villa
The seconds ticked much too slowly for his liking as he counted down to the end of a particularly boring Zoom meeting – actually, as he counted down to the end of the forty-minute limit on this particular meaning. You see, despite being in one of the most successful companies in Austria, the company hadn't actually invested in premium accounts, and Georg being himself, didn't bother upgrading his existing account.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
Auf Wiedersehen, Marcus!
Smiling albeit smugly when the meeting ended, he emailed a short apology to Marcus, who was presenting, and an "apology" to Elsa, his teammate, who he knew was just as pleased as he was that the meeting ended a little too early.
He sighed contentedly as he closed his laptop, a little proud of himself. His phone vibrated a little bit, then a smile tugged on the corners of his lips when he saw a text from Elsa.
El: Good one, G! That meeting seemed to go on forever [eye roll emoji]
[Received 3:46 p.m.]
Me: Fun now, but I'm 100% sure I'll get a long email from Chris tomorrow, asking me to upgrade my Zoom account [upside down smiley]
[Sent 3:46 p.m.]
El is typing…
There was a knock on the door, but before he could tell the person to enter, a frazzled Frau Schmidt entered his study.
"Frau Schmidt, what seems to –"
"We're almost running out of –"
His mind went blank for a second at the sight of his usually-stoic housekeeper starting to flail her arms around, eyebrows knitted.
"Frau Schmidt –"
" – and there's not enough potatoes to make the mashed potatoes Kurt loves and –"
"Frau Schmidt –"
" – and oh, Marta's been so upset, especially with her tooth –"
"Frau Schmidt – Ellen – would you please listen to me for one second?"
He must have said it a little too forcefully (he felt guilty about it, but he was grateful, in a way) because Ellen finally stopped, hand on her forehead, and he was so afraid that she was going to faint right there. But she took a seat on one of the chairs in the study, and listened to him.
"You're at risk. You cannot possibly be thinking of going out there? Just because you have a face mask, a face shield, and a gigantic bottle of disinfectant does not mean that you are safe. I will go get the groceries."
"But Franz –"
"Is needed by his family during this time, so are Dina and Genevieve. That's why we've decided to send them home and send them their wages via bank transfer, remember?"
"But the children –"
"I will ask them what they need during dinner, and then I'll be going grocery shopping in the morning," he said with a tone of finality. Frau Schmidt could only shoot him a slightly-disapproving look before shaking her head and leaving the study.
Checking his phone before he started doing more work, he smiled when he noticed that there was a message from Elsa.
El: Hmmm, true. Brace yourself, then.
[Received 3:46 p.m.]
El: Also, you know, I really like this side of you better. You really do seem more daring when you're working from home [wink emoji]
[Received 3:47 p.m.]
Brace yourself, then. He shook his head.
4:00 p.m., Wednesday, Abby's Mart
She had been sitting at the register for who-knows-how-long, and without having absolutely anyone she could talk to (meal times were eaten alone, and everyone had to stay six feet away, and with a mask and a face shield, there was no way you could possibly hear what they're saying. No one is going to appreciate her analogy, but she feels like she's in a convent), she felt like she was starting to go mad.
Her only entertainment as of the moment was staring at the entrance and hoping that people who looked interesting enough came through the door. For the past who-knows-how-long, she's named people after who looked like (in her eyes) – Sugar Plum Princess, Mary Poppins, Victorian Dude, Stan Zbornak, Marlon Brando, and so many more.
Still staring at the entrance because no one bothered to pay via cashiers (and chose to self-checkout instead), Maria cocked her head to the side when a rich-looking guy entered Abby's. Looks like a male Karen, she thought, chuckling to herself.
Eventually tiring of looking at the entrance, especially since there weren't much people anyways, she decided to scroll through her phone. Seeing pictures of people baking and of home cooked meals, her stomach started growling a little bit, making her grimace. She hadn't eaten anything for the day yet, she realized. She had woken up late that morning and missed breakfast at the dorm. So there's that, she sighed.
Hearing the familiar sound of a pushcart heading her direction, she slightly brightened, happy to finally be doing something productive. One glance at who was pushing the cart, though –
Oh no, it's male Karen, she panicked as he parked his cart and started loading his items onto the counter.
"Hoarders," she whispered under her breath as she scanned the barcodes of the mountain of items before her. She almost rolled her eyes – there were many things she could tolerate, but she just didn't understand hoarders. They were –
"I beg your pardon?"
Ah, shit.
"If you should know," he squinted to read the name written on her name tag. "If you should know, Maria, I'm buying for a family of nine. Apparently, catering for the needs of seven children make me appear like a hoarder," he visibly rolled his eyes, much to her displeasure, then handed over his credit card when she was done punching in and bagging all the items in his cart.
Slightly blushing, she decided it was better to simply keep quiet and let her conscience eat her up for the rest of the day for misjudging a customer. Somehow, a fear began to bubble in her chest, and before she could apologize to the customer (Mister Georg von Trapp, she remembered), he was gone.
What if he's actually a male Karen?
5:00 p.m., Wednesday, Abby's Mart Parking Area
Mostly glad that she wasn't closing Abby's today, she sprinted to the staff room, gathered her things, and logged out immediately. She had a customer to chase.
"Mister von Trapp!" She shouted when she spotted him still in the parking area. She removed the apron around her waist, which was, in her opinion, limiting her as she ran. She stopped by his car, grateful to see him still there – just that his hand was on the car door handle – preparing to leave. "Wait, look, I'm sorry if you were offended," she started, still trying to catch her breath. "Please don't report me to my manager," she pleaded with what he would later on describe to her as a frantic look in her eyes. "It's just that I desperately need this job –"
"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Maria. It's quite obvious that this pandemic is taking a toll on all of us. And you're quite right about hating hoarders," he shrugged before opening the car door and sliding in. He drove away, leaving her in the parking lot, slightly relieved, but mostly intrigued.
Not a male Karen.
3:24 p.m., Thursday, Abby's Mart
Marge [sparkle]: Mia
[Received 3:24 p.m.]
Marge [sparkle]: Mia
[Received 3:24 p.m.]
Marge [sparkle]: Mia !
[Received 3:24 p.m.]
Me: What?
[Sent 3:25 p.m.]
Marge [sparkle]: Did you hear that the guy who owns Whistle Seafoods was here yesterday?
[Received 3:25 p.m.]
Me: Who?
[Sent 3:25 p.m.]
Marge [sparkle]: The guy who owns Whistle Seafoods. You know, the cute packaged seafood?
[Received 3:26 p.m.]
Me: I know what Whistle Seafoods is! I've been working here for three years. I mean who owns Whistle Seafoods? And how did you know he was here?
[Sent 3:27 p.m.]
Marge [sparkle]: You know Berthe from accounting? The one I used eat lunch with until Covid?
[Received 3:37 p.m.]
Me: Yea, what about her?
[Sent 3:37 p.m.]
Marge [sparkle]: So, she was looking over stuff from yesterday and apparently, she saw a long af receipt and when she checked who the credit card holder was, it was Georg von Trapp. Sooooo, yeah, Whistle Seafoods!
[Sent 3:38 p.m.]
Oh, shoot.
4:45 p.m., Wednesday, Abby's Mart
For some reason, Ellen had forgotten a multitude of items in the first list (which was very unlike her), so he was back again at Abby's after a week. He looked at the list and then to the loaded cart in front of him, which was brimming with food, cleaning supplies, tissue, and liquor.
Pulling up to Five, which was one of two counters open, he almost laughed aloud when he had realized that she was the one manning the counter.
"Oh, it's you again," she muttered under her breath, obviously not meant for him to hear. But sorry for her, he had sharp ears. "Good afternoon, Mister von Trapp!"
"Good afternoon," he squinted a little to pretend that he's forgotten her name. "Good afternoon, Maria," he said in a civil manner. The thing is, she hasn't been off his mind since last Wednesday when they first met. Which was weird, because she accused him of being a hoarder and she managed to chase him down just before he left to ask him to not report her to the manager. She had probably expected him to be upset with her after the hoarder fiasco, but he wasn't. On the contrary, he had been quite intrigued with her.
He had never felt quite as challenged by anyone, he supposed. And no one had ever called him a hoarder before – and he had never seen anyone as livid as she was upon seeing a supposed hoarder.
He blinked his eyes for a second, and when he opened his eyes, he found her staring straight at him.
"Oh, card, sorry," he apologized before handing his card over to her.
While waiting for the card machine (he never actually knew what to call them) to do it's thing, he stared at the liquor bottles neatly arranged inside the cardboard box he had asked her to put his groceries in.
"You know that parties aren't allowed right?" She asked, a hint of humour in her voice, when she caught him staring at the bottles.
"Oh, believe me. There's no party, unless you consider me an entire party."
"Party for yourself, hmmm. Sounds about right," she laughed lightly.
She tore the receipt from the roll, pulled his card from the machine, placed the receipt and the card on a small. pink plastic tray, which she then handed over to him.
"Have a nice day," she said. "And thanks for shopping at Abby's. Stay safe!"
"You stay safe, too."
4:40 p.m., Wednesday, Abby's Mart
A weekly routine had settled, he guessed. Mondays, he was required to physically do to work, Tuesdays, he had to attend Zoom meetings with his team and some other people (and no, he hadn't upgraded his account, and no, they never trusted him with hosting the meeting again), Wednesdays, he went to the grocery, Thursdays, work some more, Fridays, physically go to work, Saturdays, book day with Brigitta, Friedrich, and Liesl, baking day with Marta and Gretl (chaos), or adventure day with Kurt and Louisa, and Sundays, movie days with the kids.
Today was Wednesday, so today was grocery day, which meant going to Abby's to see her – er, he meant – going to Abby's to go grocery shopping. He had settled a routine there, too, first grabbing the essentials and making sure to complete the list, then buying little treats he could give his kids for surviving online classes (which they loathed). Then he would pull up at Five, where, he knew, she would be. They would talk, and laugh, and try not to talk about the worsening situation of the world, and if he may say – he'd actually made a friend.
Unloading his groceries from the cart and onto the counter, he heard the faint beeping sounds of the barcode being scanned, and then he looked at her, whose eyebrows were knitted in concentration. She cracked her fingers and moved her head from side to side, and then faced him.
"You know, I've been meaning to ask you for weeks, but I heard that you own Whistle Seafoods," she said as a matter of factly, making him almost laugh. "Shouldn't your assistant or something be the one doing your groceries?"
"I don't have an assistant."
"What?"
"My brother and my sister own Whistle Seafoods, not me. I don't even have an assistant."
"Oh," she blushed slightly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."
"No, it's quite alright."
"It's not," her shoulders sagged. "Sometimes, I just really say everything I think and feel without filtering them. Ugh, it's one of my greatest faults. I really am sorry," she smiled sadly.
He didn't know how he managed to know that she smiled sadly – maybe he was getting better at "seeing" behind people's masks.
(Or maybe he was just better at reading her.)
"It's fine, really. Some people call it honesty," he replied, trying to assure her that there was absolutely no harm done.
"It's a terrible thing, though," she scrunched up her nose. "I don't like the burden of it," she sighed. "Well anyways, I hope your lovely Liesl likes her ice cream, and your marvelous Marta loves the pink marshmallows. Stay safe."
"You stay safe, too," he smiled. "And for the record – I am smiling," he said, recounting their conversation last week about her telling him that he didn't know how to smile. She let out a small laugh, that sounded like music and ringing bells.
"I know," she smiled back.
Yeah, it's definitely just him getting better at "seeing" behind people's masks.
A/N
Hi!
Okay, I know that I still have Exile and TWB to finish BUT I've officially gone insane because of this 10-month quarantine and I've been dying to write a quarantine fic and so on. I just couldn't help myself, okay? The idea came to me a few months back and I just couldn't stop writing. I really do hope that G and M aren't too OOC here, and I really, really, really, hope that I got this thing right HAHAHA. Anyways, I hope you liked it as much as I enjoyed writing this chapter.
And yeah, again, welcome to Abby's and I hope you enjoy shopping with us [wink]
Stay safe and please go follow quarantine guidelines,
H