It was no surprise to Isabelle when she spotted the shiner encircling her son's eye. Bailey was a boy and boys enjoyed pounding their fists into each other's face for no apparent reason. Bailey, however, did have a good reason this time, though she'd have preferred he find an adult to intervene.
Isabelle was surprised by the concern Mr. Gold showed for Bailey's encounter. In fact, the way he treated her son completely shocked her. She'd never seen Mr. Gold interact with children before, but maybe he had a soft spot for kids? When she thought about it, he'd never bestowed a harsh word on her either. To her father, yes, but not to her. Poor Moe French became flustered every time the landlord made an appearance.
"I don't think Mr. Gold has any friends" Bailey commented one evening as his mother prepared supper.
Isabelle snorted. "I'm not surprised. Bailey, get off the counter!" She shooed her son from the counter, slapping his shoulder and bestowing her most menacing 'Mom' look. Bailey only rolled his eyes, hopping off to sit at the round, green laminate kitchen table.
"Mr. Gold is kind of cool."
Isabelle couldn't help but feel the need to agree. Every time she dropped by Mr. Gold's shop unexpectedly, which was pretty much every single day Bailey worked there, he was always friendly toward her in an awkward sort of way. "He does seem nicer than I expected. Maybe he's finally realizing being an absolute jerk is a lonely road."
Bailey shrugged. "I kind of feel bad for him."
"Bailey, the man chooses to be the way he is" Isabelle stated with the air of adult experience. She plopped a bowl of potatoes and a peeler in front of him. "You get what you give, and Mr. Gold doesn't seem to give anything away."
"Maybe he just needs someone to be his friend." The hinting in Bailey's voice was more than obvious.
Isabelle sighed in frustration, knowing her son was right. What did she know of Mr. Gold's past? What if something had happened to cause him to be such a cold human being and all he needed was someone to chip the ice away with a wee bit of kindness and acceptance?
Isabelle leaned on the heels of her hands on the table across from her son, eyeing him wryly. Bailey looked back, feigning innocence. "How about we invite Mr. Gold over for supper tomorrow night?"
Bailey's wide grin was answer enough.
The next morning as she dropped her son off at the pawnshop, Isabelle followed him in. She shouldn't have been nervous, really. She'd held more than enough brief conversations with Mr. Gold over the past few weeks to feel at ease talking to him. It wasn't as if asking him to come over for supper would cost Bailey his job or anything.
Mr. Gold accepted the offer with something that resembled a smile. Isabelle wasn't sure if he was glad or irritated by the offer, either way Mr. Gold was coming to supper that night. As she walked out the pawnshop, her father came to mind and she groaned. Moe would not be happy with the relentless landlord sitting at their humble kitchen table.
Bailey had informed his grandfather of his new job, and Moe was on the verge of a nervous breakdown as he paced around the coffee table, rubbing perspiration from his face as Bailey assured him Mr. Gold wouldn't take the boy for collateral for their rent. The poor man would probably have a mild heart attack sharing a meal with the infamous pawnshop owner.
She had to get her father out the house. Maybe suggesting Moe go play cards that night would work. It was really the only idea she had. Moe was one for settling in his worn, red leather chair in the evenings and not move until it was time to turn in. Playing cards would have to do whether she had to call all her father's friends herself to organize it. Thankfully, Moe was up to the idea and said he'd spread the word as he did his rounds along his delivery route. Isabelle sighed in relief, heading outside to water the plants. There was hope for a peaceful evening.
Mr. Gold drove Bailey home that evening after closing up shop. "Hi, Mom!" he greeted cheerfully, rushing passed her. "I'm gonna wash up!"
"All right!" Isabelle shook her head, chuckling to herself. She turned, nearly forgetting Mr. Gold had come in, and gave him a small, welcoming smile.
"Good evening, Ms. French" Mr. Gold said pleasantly, and Isabelle could have sworn she saw a hint of nervousness on his face.
"Mr. Gold."
"It smells good" he commented, gesturing to the oven.
A compliment before the meal was even served? Isabelle bit her lip, smiling again, surprised. "Thank you. I hope you like chicken spaghetti."
"Anything you fix will be fine."
Isabelle nodded, wracking her brain for something else to say. When they talked in the pawnshop, conversation came easy, but now that they were in her territory, her personal space, her mind was blank. It seemed Mr. Gold was having the same problem. She was relieved when Bailey reappeared and took up post sitting at the table, coaxing Mr. Gold to sit as well.
She'd seen her son and Mr. Gold interact several times, but it still perplexed her how well they connected. Bailey chatted with his employer as if they'd been friends his whole life. Mr. Gold seemed to connect with Bailey just as easily. He portrayed such patience with the boy, such comfortable ease.
Isabelle peeked in the oven, the pan of chicken spaghetti browning nicely. "Supper will be ready in a few minute" she announced, taking out the plates from the cabinet.
Bailey hopped up to prepare drinks. Mr. Gold watched them both intently, his rigid stature loosened now. Isabelle was placing the plates on the table, feeling more at ease herself with the fact that Mr. Gold was sitting at her kitchen table as if he belonged there, when the front door swung open. She nearly jumped out her skin, eyes wide at the sight of her father standing in the doorway.
"Papa!" Isabelle exclaimed, sounding far too chipper. "What happened to playing cards tonight?"
Moe stood still as if he'd been turn to stone, eyeing Mr. Gold timidly. "Mr. Gold" he croaked out, ignoring his daughter. He stood a little taller, prouder. "The rent isn't due for another two weeks."
"I'm not here for the rent, Mr. French" Gold growled, his tone sounding as if shooing away a pesky bug.
Isabelle was about to intervene, but Bailey did before she could and it was probably for the best. The boy was good at soften blows. "We invited Mr. Gold over for supper, Grandpa."
Moe shot Isabelle a look of contempt. "So, that's why you wanted me to go play cards tonight" he accused.
"If you have a problem with me eating at your table, Mr. French, then I'll leave" Mr. Gold said, grabbing his cane to stand.
"You're not leaving!" Bailey yelled, and he rushed to stand in front of Moe, not at all intimidated by the taller man's towering frame. "He's our guest, Grandpa. Just because you don't like him, doesn't mean we can't."
Moe glanced at Isabelle then back down at Bailey's hopeful face. "Okay" he finally said eyes burning at Mr. Gold.
Isabelle let out the breath she'd held in since her father walked through the door. She glanced over at Mr. Gold, noticing how white his knuckles were on the head of his cane and how tight his jaw sat. He'd kept his promise to Bailey to not threaten her or Moe, but she could tell how much her father's attitude was eating at him. Isabelle rubbed her eyes, the uneasy feeling that the evening would not be as pleasant as she thought.
Supper was slightly awkward as both men sat across from each other, ultimately ignoring one another. All the focus was on Bailey, who knew exactly how to defuse the tension by chatting away about anything that came to mind. Mr. Gold complimented her again, this time for how delicious the meal was and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Moe's jaw set firmly.
Bailey pulled Moe into the living room to play a round of cards after supper, and Isabelle was amazed once again by the boy's art of distraction. But that meant she was left alone with Mr. Gold. He awkwardly in one hand carried a stake of dishes over to the sink as she prepared the water for wash.
"Oh, you don't have to do that" Isabelle rendered taking the stake from his hand carefully.
"It's no matter," Gold replied, coming to stand a few feet from her at the counter. "Thank you, Ms. French, for inviting me. Coming to know Bailey has put my mind at ease." Isabelle looked up, cocking her head just slightly, curious. "And you as well," Gold added, and she nearly dropped the plate she was placing in the sink.
Isabelle took up the washcloth, and began scrubbing, her brow furrowed. "Why Bailey?" she asked, inquiringly. "Out of all the young men in town, why did you have my son come work for you?"
"I told you before, Ms. French. Bailey is a good boy, and I needed someone who I felt I could trust."
The last line caught Isabelle curiosity. There was more to it than just needing someone to help around his shop. She turned to Mr. Gold, dropping the washcloth in the sink water with a plop. "What's the catch, Mr. Gold?"
She could tell in his eyes that he had more reasoning behind it than what he was telling her, but he was reluctant to say. After a long beat, he licked his bottom lick and answered, "I need an heir."
"An heir?" Isabelle echoed, confused. "You mean, for your business and housing?"
Mr. Gold nodded, fiddling with the head of his cane. "You see, Ms. French, I have no one to take over all that is mine when I am gone."
"No family?" she asked astonished, but it hit her who she was talking to.
"None" Mr. Gold said flatly, and what he told her next dropped an anchor in Isabelle's heart. "I had a son, but he's gone." Gold's gaze was fixed on the kitchen table. "Bailey reminds me so much of my son in many ways. I guess that is another reason I chose him."
Isabelle bit her upper lip, her thoughts from the day before hitting her like a mac truck. Something had happened in Mr. Gold's past to make him the way he is. He'd lost his son. She couldn't imagine such a horrible fate as to lose a child. She had the urge to run to Bailey and hug him close and never let go. "I'm sorry" she whispered, raising a hand to squeeze his shoulder in a brief, comforting touch.
"It was a long time ago" Mr. Gold continued. "I want this to be Bailey's discussion, but only if you're all right with the offer." He met her eyes, a pained look glowering back at her.
Isabelle offered a reassuring smile, not completely sure if she was okay with it yet. "If Bailey wishes to be your heir then I'll allow it."
Mr. Gold thanked her. She hoped he stay for the blueberry tarts she'd baked earlier that day, but he bid goodnight to Bailey who made it a point to shake the older man's hand, respectfully. Moe just sat on the couch glaring, and Gold skillfully ignored him.
As Isabelle saw him out the door, Gold hesitated for a moment as they said their goodnights. He leaned over and kissed Isabelle's cheek before heading out. She could barely move shock electrifying through her at what just happened. It was barely a brush of the lips on her cheek and it probably didn't mean anything but thank you, but Isabelle couldn't help think it meant something totally different.