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Essential 21

Gabriel listened with one ear as the Carmichaels continued to discuss the merits of the wall hanging he'd originally shown them. Would Amelia like it? Is it too large? Would it work in her new apartment? Tuning their private conversation into background noise, he kept an ear open for any questions they may ask him as he began to plan that night's date. Sara hadn't reciprocated his 'I love you' before he'd left her outside; he purposely hadn't waited, not wanting to hear anything negative. His thoughts were interrupted by a quietly asked,

"Do you have anything else along this theme, Mr. Bowman?"

"Please, call me Gabriel," he repeated what he'd said earlier with a grin. "I'm afraid that I don't have anything else depicting the Nereid," he told them apologetically, "but I do have other 'fantastic animals' and things dealing with mythology that I can show you," he offered.

"Those would be perfect," the well-dressed woman answered.

Gabe nodded and thought over what he had in the shop. "Why don't we move over to the computer? I have pictures of my entire inventory scanned so that I can put them on the website. I can pull up anything that I think might work and you can choose things to see from there," he offered. "The shop isn't exactly set up for customers to browse for specific things," he explained. "Most of my customers order from the website and either pick up the merchandise or I have it delivered."

"Would it be more convenient...?" Mrs. Carmichael began only to be interrupted by a grinning Gabriel.

"It's no problem," he answered. "You're already here," he pointed out as he made his way to the table he used as a desk. His own office chair was flanked by another one and he went to grab a second from where it sat next to another table. "Please, sit down," he said as he gestured towards the two chairs.

"Thank you," murmured Mrs. Carmichael.

"No problem," he answered. "Do you have anything specific you'd like to look at?" he offered as he pulled up his website. If they found something there and wanted to see more pictures, he could find them on the disk. "A specific price range?" he asked to narrow down the search.

"Mythology and fantastic animals," came his answer. "Mermaids, dragons, etc. No real price range. If it's quality goods and worth the money, we'll gladly pay it," Mr. Carmichael told him, a thread of warning running through his voice.

"My prices are always fair," Gabriel told him, not taking offense at the minor insinuation since he was well aware of so-called antique dealers and small business owners who cheated their customers. That he was unexpectedly young was another mark against him in the eyes of some clients. "I've also made sure that anything I'm selling is the real thing; they've been checked out by experts other than myself."

"Christopher," came the softly spoken rebuke before the brunette turned towards Gabriel. "I should apologize for my husband," she offered quietly.

Gabriel chuckled and shrugged it off. "Don't worry about it; I like people who make sure of what they get." He flipped through the website, his state-of-the-art computer pulling up the pages quickly. "This," he told them as he scrolled down to a carved piece of oval stone, "is a typical sixteenth century carving of a dragon. It stands two feet high, has a width of one foot, a depth of three inches, and weighs approximately half a pound." He leant back to allow them to see the picture. When the man shook his head, citing that their daughter already had something similar, Gabriel began to search again. "She has an interesting hobby," he told them.

"She's always been fascinated by mythology and animals from the past," the woman explained. "She'd spend hours with her nose stuck in a book while the other children her age were outside playing."

Gabriel laughed silently at the accurate description of himself as a teenager; he'd only gone out and played if his siblings had dragged him.

"What's that?"

He stopped the slow scroll and backed up a little to click on the picture. "This is a gargoyle that was taken from an English castle when it was torn down. Many of the old castles have fallen into disrepair and it was decided that this one couldn't be repaired. Because it was deemed a hazard, it was dismantled after extremely careful checks by historians." He showed the couple the statue, explaining that it was solid carved stone and telling them the dimensions.

"I'm sure that she'd love it, but where on earth could she put it? It seems a bit large for a piece of coffee table art," the woman said worriedly.

"If you decide that you are interested in it," Gabriel told them, "I know someone who makes pedestals from a variety of materials. You could purchase one of his ready-made pieces or have one commissioned."

"Could we see that gargoyle?"

"Of course," he answered as he stood up and made his way to one of the crowded metal shelving units. He bent down, having put the heavier pieces on the bottom, and pulled it out slowly. The lights cast shadows over the surface of the unwrapped stone sculpture. Carrying it over to the table still occupied by the Nereid wall hanging, he flipped the cloth into so that it was out of the way and set the stone down on the table before stepping back so they could examine it. As they did, he pulled the wall hanging off the table and began to fold it.

"It's rather... worn," the man said doubtfully, a sentiment that his wife immediately dismissed.

"That's just part of his charm, Christopher." She hesitated and looked back to Gabriel.

Taking the hint, he murmured something and left them to relative privacy as he absently returned the woven cloth to the shelf it had originally came from. Hoping that they would make up their minds soon so that he could plan without distractions, he sat down at his computer and logged into his email, seeing if there were any orders. He was in luck: there were two from long-time buyers of his. Knowing that both of them preferred to pick up their own merchandise, and use the opportunity to nose around a little in the stockpile of rare and interesting things Gabriel's home housed, he emailed them back to set up appointments on whatever day and time was convenient for them. Not wanting to lose potential customers, he then accessed the website and put small 'SOLD' signs on what they had bought. The pictures would be taken down when they had paid and picked up the pieces; until then, the sign would keep others from expressing interest.

"Excuse me?"

Gabriel turned to look at the two customers he had left to debate which gift they wanted to give their daughter. "Have you made a decision?" he asked as he stood up from the chair he was sitting in and turned towards them.

"Yes," replied the man. "We'll take both," he told the young businessman.

"She's a lucky girl," was the answer he gave as he went and got the wall hanging from the shelf he had placed it and put it on the table the gargoyle still occupied. From there, he went to a small recess in the wall that he had closed off with a silk Chinese screen and took two flattened boxes out. He carried them to the table and opened them up, sealing the flaps in the bottom with packaging tape that had been stored under the table. He placed the wall hanging in the first, flatter box, before putting the gargoyle in the taller, thinner one. It was the perfect size; he was able to put the statue in the box without too much difficulty, but there wasn't enough room for it to wobble too much. He sealed the tops with the clear brown packaging tape he had used on the bottoms and turned to the Carmichaels. "How would you like to pay for them?"

"Check," came the answer and Gabriel busied himself with the normal, rather tedious aspects of the transaction. When they were finished, he put the check on his keyboard and wrote out a receipt, which he handed to the man. He also pulled a small leather case out of his top drawer and opened it to reveal a multitude of business cards. Searching them quickly, he found a marbled gray card that he paired with one of his more colorful ones and handed them to the man. "Here's my business card and the card for Jacob Harris. He's the man I mentioned earlier, who makes pedestals," he explained.

"Thanks," the man said, tucking both cards into his pocket.

"Would you like help getting everything down to the car?" Gabe offered.

"We can manage," Mr. Carmichael answered as his wife picked up the smaller box.

She watched her husband heft the second box and smiled over at Gabriel. "Thank you," she said before continuing with "we'll be sure to use your website next time instead of coming in directly."

Gabe grinned an answer and shrugged slightly as he opened his apartment door for them. "Whichever way works best for you."

She was trailing her husband out the door when she turned back to him. "Would you like to come to Amelia's birthday party? I'm sure she'd love to meet the man who has such an interesting business."

He hesitated, flattered at the invitation but unsure if he should go. "Thanks," he finally said before, "but I'm going to have to see if I can make it,"

"Of course," she accepted. "I'll phone you with the details," she hastily added as her husband called for her.

Gabriel closed the door as she hurried out and shook his head before going back to his desk. He stored the check Christopher Carmichael had written in the same worn brown envelope that he stored all checks-to-be-cashed in and made his way to the kitchen. There, waiting for him under one of the bright multicolored plates his second-oldest sister had gotten him for Christmas, was a Styrofoam box that the delicious smells that had permeated the small room originated from. He moved the food onto the plate, taking the bun from the hamburger and putting it back in the box, so that he could microwave it. As it was heating, he went to his stereo system and turned the music back on. Sounds from the seventies immediately filled the apartment.

When it was done, he grabbed his food and made his way into the portion of the apartment that he had designated his living area. The controlled chaos evidenced in his shop was still present but slightly tamed by floor-to-ceiling bookcases that covered most of one wall. Ignoring the filled shelving, he sat down on his comfortable couch and began absently eating his meal.

He'd meant what he said to Sara; he was happy she cared enough to worry and to make sure he ate. That was part of the reason he'd been making sure to take over food when they got together. With a schedule as hectic as hers could be, a supernatural weapon that basically controlled her life, and all the other worries she had, he didn't doubt she occasionally skipped meals. He would have been surprised if she didn't. So he had become a food monitor, of sorts: show up with the natural icebreaker of food, distract her with conversation, and get some nutrients into her sometimes over-taxed body. Nothing could be simpler, right?

He hadn't expected her to reciprocate. Why, he wasn't entirely sure. Sara had made her work her life, her friends her family. Someone took care of their family, chosen or blood. As Sara had no blood relatives to focus on, it was natural to her want to take care of her friends. Wanting to take care of people was one reason he'd always suspected she'd become a cop in the first place.

He finished his meal and went back to the kitchen to wash his plate, grinning at the domestication his mother had forced on him when he was a teenager. Against all odds, it had stuck and taken root. Finishing and putting the now clean but wet plate in the drainer, he made his way back to his computer. He still had the research that the Carmichaels' had interrupted to complete. Before he began it, however, he changed his website, reflecting that the items bought were no longer for sale. Then he picked up his phone and called Sara's cell phone.

"Sara Pezzini's cell phone," answered an unfamiliar male voice. "She can't come to the phone right now," it cheerfully continued, "but if you'd like to leave your name, number, and a brief message after the tone, I'll make sure she gets back to you. Beeeeep!"

"Uh, hi," he said uncertainly. Sara letting someone else have access to her cell?

"Give me that," came in another unfamiliar masculine voice, as there was a small scuffle in the background. "Sorry," the second voice finally apologized. Sara's away from her phone at the moment."

"I... got that," he answered after a small hesitation. "Um, can you just tell Sara that I was thinking of some place that's nice and I'll see her around... eight?" he finally asked, figuring he could use the time to get some work out of the way

"Sure, no problem."

"Thanks, bye," he said before hanging up. The two men who'd answered must have been her partners. She wouldn't trust just anyone with her cell; Sara wasn't that kind of person. He made a couple more calls that were over quickly before sitting down to work. Sara was used to seeing goofy laid-back Gabriel Bowman; tonight, she'd see a whole new side of him.

TBC

How's that for a teaser? hehe