Our young lady, desperate, has wandered into an old pawn and antiquities shop with the intent of selling her last valuable possession. Instead she has been accorded courtesy and respect and offered a job - although she is hesitant to accept the job without knowing more about the requirements. She finds her host interesting but is quite unsure of his real motives. On his part, her host, while pleasant and pleasing, is not sure why this young lady has come under his sphere of protection but he will make every attempt to find out.

Our valiant young lady considers the job offer and, in a quiet interlude (before the storm clouds gather), begins to settle in.

SMOKE AND ASHES

Chapter 2

Settling In

+ + + Breakfast

Belle heard someone at the door and was instantly awake. She recognized the step, tap, step, tap of the man walking with his cane. She looked around the dimly lit room and remembered where she was. She was safe here.

She sat up, changing the backpack from her front to her back. She stretched. She ran her hands through her tangled hair and pulled it behind her neck. She had no idea what time it was.

"My dear?" she heard him call to her from outside of the alcove, knocking softly on the door frame while keeping himself behind the curtain.

"I'm awake," she answered him pulling back the covers that had kept her so warm throughout the night and putting her feet on the floor.

The man lifted the curtain and spoke directly to her, "Come with me, my dear. I'll show you the little apartment you can have if you decide to work for me. And you'll be able to get your shower."

She got up, leaving behind the cloths and quilts on the sofa and came on out of the alcove. She noticed he was again dressed impeccably, wearing a custom dark grey suit, with a deep burgundy shirt and a silver colored tie. In his pocket was a burgandy and silver patterned handerkerchief. Incongruously, he was also carrying an ordinary plastic grocery bag.

"Follow me, my dear," and he went through a side door of the shop and into a small foyer. One way went to a door to the street and the other way went up some stairs. He led her up the stairs. "This is a five story building with four units on three of the floors and two units on the top. The apartment I'm assigning to you is on the second floor, just above this shop. There is no elevator, I'm sorry to say. This building is old and it lacks many modern amenities."

As she followed him to the second floor, he asked her, "Did you sleep well?"

"I did," she answered and she had. A deep sleep without the gnawing intruders that had grown to populated her dreams, eating up her rest and destroying her energies. She had thought it would be a fitful night given the strangeness of the entire situation but once she had dropped off, she had slept hard, without any memories of dreaming or waking.

Walking behind him, she noted the walls of the small lobby and the staircase had a solid coating of a quiet glossy green paint on them and the light fixtures were plentiful with working bulbs and what she assumed were knock-off Tiffany shades. She walked behind him, going up the stairwell with its dark wooden polished banisters. Reaching the first floor she saw that the hallway was the same quiet glossy green as the stairwell. At her feet was a dark wooden floor. Down the center of the hallway was a plush, vaguely oriental green-toned carpet running the entire length. The thickness of the carpet muffled their steps. The hallway reminded her of what might be found in a high-end hotel, not in some ancient apartment building on the downside of Asheville. Using a long old-fashioned key, he opened one of heavy wooden doors that ran along the side.

She viewed the apartment. She had expected it to have that musty smell of a place long shut up but it was surprisingly fresh, as if it had been regularly aired out. She had expected it to be an open shell with unprotected radiators, peeling paint and holes in the wall. What she saw was a long hall with a bathroom off the first door, then a small bedroom off the next door and then an opening to a kitchenette and finally a small living room. There was a row of windows off the living room with a door that went out onto a narrow balcony above the street.

She thought it was huge and heavenly after living in doorways and occasionally on a cot at the shelter.

"I anticipate that you will be able to operate the shower facilities with no problems. These are some clean clothes I borrowed from another tenant that you can slip on. I'm afraid they may be a little large but I think they'll do." He handed off the bundle to her. I'll wait for you downstairs," he told her, also handing her the key and turning away. "You can lock the door behind me."

She took the bag he had handed her, locked the door after him, and went into the bathroom. The bag contained a pair of sweatpants, an over-large t-shirt with the logo "Keep Asheville Weird" spread across it. Someone had also included clean socks. There were also travel size Avalon Organics lavender shampoo and conditioner along with some Caldrea coconut fig leaf body wash with a loofah. Someone had even included a disposal razor.

She stripped off her encrusted clothing and stepped into a luxurious hot water shower considering that the building had probably been constructed in the 1920's the water pressure was a pleasant surprise. Mindful that there was a breakfast waiting her, she finished quickly and re-dressed in her second pair of undies which were reasonably clean, then on went the sweatpants and tee-shirt. She put on the one pair of socks (she usually wore all she had) and then her old tennis shoes. Her hair, she finger-combed and then pulled the unruly mass behind her neck.

She debated. Should she take her backpack? It had been her constant companion for the last six or so months. What if she decided not to come back here?

She opted to take it with her.

He was patiently waiting for her downstairs in his shop and, reluctantly but not too proud to refuse it, she accepted the heavy black coat he handed her to wear, putting it on over the backpack.

Breakfast was to come soon enough. It was barely past sunrise. They walked up Lexington turning onto Hiawasee then up the hill and onto Broadway to get to the small hole-in-the-wall Over Easy restaurant. She found herself sitting across from the pawnbroker who appeared to be well-known to staff. He gently encouraged her to order whatever she wanted. It took her an agonizing eternity to decide but eventually in front of her was set the Corlitos omelet complete with bacon, mixed mushrooms, roasted garlic, spinach and white cheddar cheese with a side of toast. He was eating the Sunburst omelet with smoked trout, caramelized red onions, roasted garlic and goat cheese, also with a side of toast. They had both gotten hot tea to drink.

He watched her closely, a shapeless grey and white mass of over-large clothing, drooping hair and downward cast eyes. Very skittish. He didn't want to frighten her. "I need a name to call you. I can't just keep referring to you as 'my dear.'"

She hesitated before she answered. "Call me Lacey," she finally said. Lacey would do. She couldn't very give them her real name, Isabella Lacinda du Francais le Coronet Roi. And she wasn't comfortable with letting him call her by Belle, not the name her father had called her, the name her mother had called her.

He repeated, "Lacey. As you wish."

"What do I call you?" she asked him raising her eyes to his.

He paused before answering, caught off guard by the brilliant blue of her eyes, "I'm called Mr. Gold." Her eyes had appeared duller before.

The girl nodded and then bent her attention to her food. He hadn't asked for a last name. She would've had to have come up with a phony name pretty quickly.

The food was delicious. She spooned it into her mouth without pausing, barely chewing. Abruptly she bolted up and dashed to the bathroom. It was awhile before she returned. She finally came back, wiping her mouth and holding her stomach.

He quickly surmised what had happened. "Too much, too soon?" he asked softly.

She nodded, embarrassed, "I'm afraid so. It is sooo good and I guess I was eating too much, too fast. Maybe I should just nibble on the toast."

He allowed her time to eat a couple of bites of toast, eating more slowly now, sipping some hot tea in between bites.

"Have you considered my offer, Miss Lacey?" he was waiting. . .waiting expectantly.

She had considered it. Had she ever considered it. Considering it was all she had done. She managed to look him directly in the eye. She thought for a moment they glinted amber but decided it was just an odd reflection of the lights. "You are just wanting me to clean your shop, right?"

He nodded, "It's a big shop. It's not just a pawnshop. I also deal in antiques and unusual . . . unique items."

"I would just be dusting and sweeping?"

"Uh hum," he again nodded in agreement. "Maybe also I should have you clean that front window. It seems to have gotten murky."

"How many days? What hours?"

He had to smile. These were good questions. Desperate she may be, but this was not a young woman who would sign an agreement without reading the fine print.

Excellent.

"I work five days a week, Tuesday through Saturday, usually from nine to six. I would ask that you work the same but you would have a lunch hour," he told her.

They continued with the discussion, ironing out additional days off for holidays, sick days and, given that he was providing her an apartment, what she would earn per hour. He was delighted with her deliberate questions and reasonable concerns. By the time breakfast was over, they had come to quite the mutually comfortable agreement. He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, with a slight smile, he pulled out a contract for her. "I think you will find that this covers all of your particulars."

She momentarily drew back from him, her blue eyes widening. "How. . . How did you do that?"

"I'm intuitive," he replied shrugging.

He watched as she carefully read over the contract, occasionally looking back up at him with some measure of disbelief in her eyes and then, finally, she signed her name. He signed below her name.

"Today, I'll help you get your apartment set up and advance you a little spending money for clothing and some of the other things you'll need."

"Won't you have to watch your shop?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I'm sure there's at least one tenant that owes me a small favor. I'll ask someone to watch the store while I assist you."

+ + + Furnishings

The rest of the morning was almost fun. He had decided that she would need, at minimum, a bed (they found a lovely walnut head and footboard. It had seen better days but still came together. Unfortunately there was only a lumpy mattress to go with it), a table with two chairs (they found a kitschy 50's metal table with matching chairs) and something comfortable to sit on for the living room area (they found a small well-worn tapestried upholstered sofa).

She would also need some minimum kitchenware and from the back alcove he handed her off several unmatched china pieces with small chips that drastically reduced their re-sale value. He had her look through the cast-offs in the back room it was very dusty, cobwebs in the corners. She was able to find everything she could use, plus a small somewhat threadbare area rug, some frayed curtains and, at his suggestion, she was able to keep the cloths and quilts she had used the night before.

"This shop does seem a lot bigger inside than it does from the outside," she observed carrying some of her new treasures out into the front of the shop.

"A lot of people have said that," he replied blandly. He'd enjoyed escorting her from room to room. She was so excited and her feelings seemed to be transferring to him. How odd.

She did one last walk-through the shop looking for neglected small things that she might be able to give a new home to. She eventually got back around to the front of the place. She'd seen the woman sitting there earlier but now she got to meet her: a pretty self-possessed blonde woman who had sat behind the register while Mr. Gold had guided her through the shop and the backroom. The woman, dressed in jeans and a red leather jacket, had set herself on a stool and Belle could see in the morning light that there were a variety of beautifully framed pictures on the wall behind her. The woman was drinking from an extra-large coffee cup and attending to a cell phone. The woman looked up when Belle and Mr. Gold returned to the front of the shop.

"Hi, you're the new tenant? I'm Emma," the woman held out her hand and Belle took it.

"I'm Lacey," she told her. There was just the slightest tingling on her fingertips.

"So nice to meet you. I'm next door to you, in 2B. Let me know if you need anything." The woman gave her a big smile.

"Thank you," Belle told her, smiling back. This woman with her hair pulled back and no apparent makeup was so beautiful, radiating confidence and competence.

Belle smiled and then left to begin carrying some of her new-found possessions up to her apartment. Mr. Gold would have someone come by later in the day to carry the furniture up into her room.

Emma waited until she was sure the young woman was out of the store. She turned to Gold, "You know she's lying about her name?"

"Of course. But I suspect she has good reason for keeping her identify secret. How many others who live here have reason to be circumspect about their pasts?"

Emma gave him a tight smile. "All right, I'll grant you that. Whose clothes did you get for her? They're awful."

"Ruby's. She was the only one that I thought would be awake and up before six this morning."

"Yeah, looks like something Ruby would wear. And she would be up;I know she's working that early shift at the hospital. Ashley's clothes would have been better. The two are closer in height."

"Ashley wasn't up yet when I needed the clothes," he explained turning his attention to putting things on his counter in their correct places.

"She's a cutie, that's for sure," Emma told him.

Gold looked up, vaguely surprised, "Is she?" he asked. He hadn't noticed.

"She's absolutely a cutie!" Emma chastised him. "Have you not looked at her?"

"No, I guess not," he answered slowly.

"No you haven't! You've just seen a mass of over-sized clothes and squirrel's-nest hair. She's petite and curvy with gorgeous skin and amazing eyes," Emma informed him.

Gold was blank. She was? He hadn't noticed. Well, maybe her eyes.

Emma rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Now, how long do you plan to keep me shackled to your counter here?"

Gold turned and focused all of his attention onto her. "I believe Miss Swan that you owe me a certain level of . . . tolerance. Am I detecting a tone of disrespect?" he asked her very quietly.

"No sir," Emma answered him obviously irritated but not challenging him. "Just wondering how long you're going to need my help. I do have my day job that I need to report to at noon."

He took a long moment to watch her. If he were asked, truth be told, Emma was one of his favorites. She had talent, initiative and genuine leadership potential. But she was also headstrong, stubborn and wasn't always willing to listen to his guidance and advice. She was also stoically unimaginative and worked too much by the book – like the police officer she was. She required firm handling with no leeway.

"I think I can handle things from now on," he finally answered.

As Emma was clearing out, she had to ask, "Is she the one we've been waiting for?"

"I don't know. I think she could be."

"What's her Talent?"

"Not sure yet. She's very tightly wound and completely clamped down."

Emma shook her head, "Well you could just throw her into the deep end of the pool like you did with me." She tilted her head back, finishing off her coffee.

He had to smile to himself. Emma had been exceedingly stubborn when she had first come into The House, very resistant to recognizing what she was, refusing to accept that she had remarkable Talents. . . or any Talent for that matter. 'No, no, no, there is no such thing!' she would repeatedly tell him, yelling at him. Losing his temper with her, he had finally just thrown a fireball at her head and she had reflexively shielded herself. It had shattered her self-image, her understanding of the world and she had spent the rest of the evening uncharacteristically crying, finding herself being held by him in a fatherly embrace, sobbing on his shoulder. But she was so strong that by the next morning she was at his doorstep wanting his help in learning about her Talent and, especially, wanting to know how to control it. She had done mostly well but still required a strong emotional state to really function at her peak.

+ + + Setting up the apartment

Upstairs in her new apartment, Belle was putting the mis-matched dishes up in the cabinets. She took a moment to explore the kitchen. There wasn't a dishwasher but there was a large farmhouse sink. The stove was an inset with four burners. A small oven with a stainless steel door was set off in a column with cabinets underneath and above. The fridge, also stainless steel, was small but still had plenty of room for a single person's larder. The room had been cleverly designed to take advantage of every space with plentiful drawers, tall narrow drawers for trays and short wide drawers for kitchen linens and many regular sized drawers for everything else. There were rotating insets underneath the counter corners so that everything would be accessible. Belle examined the countertops expecting them to be laminate but to her unschooled eye and fingertips they felt like granite. The countertop lurched out and with the addition of bar stools could easily become an eating surface.

She wandered into the living area. It was small but bright with light coming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

She'd have to wait for the furniture, but in her mind she decided where she would put what. Having her own place setting up her own place was a brand new concept for her. Even in her old life she had never had a place of her own. She had always shared with roommates or hired companions or even servants. Rooms had always been decorated by professionals with subdued taste and understated polish. Having this place to herself was totally new and absolutely wonderful.

Belle looked around. This room would certainly look even better when she had a bit of furniture. Right now the walls were whitewashed and the bare wooden floors a honey pecan color. Belle's eye caught the crown molding in the living room area. The place actually emanated a sense of luxury. Nice, very nice.

She stood looking out the window. Well, if she were still here in the summer, it would be awesome to have supper on the balcony. Maybe even have that self-assured, ever-composed, elegantly attired Mr. Gold up for a delicious meal, something with an appetizer, an entrée and a fabulous dessert. Of course, she'd have to learn to cook before she could pull that off. She could envision herself in a white, flowing gown maybe a touch of décolletage and him, in one of those elegant tailored suits with the silken handkerchiefs that he seemed to favor. Maybe she could get him out of the suit jacket. She giggled.

He was probably old enough to be her father.

But he was a lot nicer looking that her daddy. She had not been able to help noticing the warmth of his eyes and when he handled his teacup, she had noticed his long, strong fingers. And there was something about him. . . .

She still wasn't sure why he was helping her and certainly she didn't entirely trust him. There was just the faintest hint of something unsavory about him, enough to make her wary but not enough to make her leave. That thing he had done with the contract was creepy really creepy. But he had been otherwise nothing but kind to her. She thought she could easily grow to like him.

And Emma had certainly seemed friendly enough.

She wondered who else lived in this building.

As if in response to her thought, there was a timid knocking on the door.

A.N. I've got to thank all those people who are following (and those who've already 'favorited') and a special thanks to my amazing reviewers: OneMagician, thedoctorsgirl42, jewel415, Grace5231973, RoxyMoron, Erik'sTrueAngel, mockorangeflower, EevyLynn, Tinuviel Undomiel, Wondermorena, juju0268, emospritelet, cynicsquest, boots111, MyraValhallah, DruidKitty and orthankg1

Victoria Black (Guest) - glad you liked the first chapter. I try (and mostly succeed) in updating every Thursday morning est.

NEXT: Belle encounters additional tenants; Gold realizes Belle's true nature