Leah stared at the man in the white suit and silently fumed. She hoped it didn't show on her face; unlike a lot of antique store owners who ran their business more or less as a place to store their collection and make private deals, Leah actually enjoyed dealing with walk-in customers. (Even if they did tend to believe that everything they owned was secretly coveted by collectors of Happy Meal toys, but that the Chippendale cabinet in the corner simply had to be overpriced.) Leah did not want to seem sullen or rude. It was a bad habit to get into.
On the other hand, she couldn't help hoping that perhaps her customer might take the hint. She'd flipped the sign from "OPEN" to "CLOSED" fifteen minutes ago, and that was after giving the customer a good ten minutes past closing time to make a decision. But he just puttered around the shop, occasionally leaning in to peer closely at an old bronze magnifying glass or mutter something appreciative about an antique chair. Leah's stomach was grumbling, her feet were aching, and she really wanted the man in the white suit to take the hint she hoped she wasn't giving so that she could go home for the night.
Abruptly, the man looked up at her as if just noticing her presence for the first time. "I'm sorry," he said. "I must be acting terribly rude." He had just a trace of a British accent, plummy and mannered. "It's just that I haven't been by in a long while, and when I happened to be in the neighborhood, well...naturally, I had to stop by and see what pieces you'd gotten in since I last visited."
Leah worked hard to summon up a smile. "Naturally," she said, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. She had a good memory for faces-it was a very useful thing to cultivate when you owned a shop that catered to the obsessive collector-and she knew full well that the man in the white suit had never walked through that door before tonight. His features were too distinctive to forget-swept back hair just on the edge of going gray, piercing eyes, and a large, hawk-like nose.
Still, he seemed sincere in his interest. Perhaps he was a regular at another store, and had just mistaken that one for Leah's when he spotted it from the street. Leah knew the kind of person that frequented antique stores, and understood their sudden whims all too well. Perhaps she could make some good business from this man. He carried himself like a man who didn't mind spending freely for quality goods.
"Anyhow, I'm afraid I got a bit lost in thought, looking at your excellent collection," he said apologetically. "I am sorry-naturally, if there's anything you need to do in order to prepare yourself for my departure...drawing the shades, locking the door, that sort of thing...don't stop on my behalf."
"Thank you," Leah said, her smile growing a bit more genuine as she stepped around the counter. Oblivious her customer might be, but he wasn't heartless. And honestly, Leah knew all too well what it was like to get lost in an "antiquing trance", so fascinated by the minutiae of a particularly well-made piece that you completely forgot your surroundings. She pulled the shades down and locked the door, shutting out the outside world for another evening.
"These really are quite beautiful, Leah," the man said, pointing to a display of carnival glass. "Brockwitz, I believe? And very well displayed, too. You should be proud."
"I, um...thanks," Leah said, a bit unnerved. She didn't believe in name tags; nothing robbed a person of their dignity like a little pin with their name on it. She was always happy to introduce herself to a customer, but she knew she hadn't so much as spoken to her customer beyond two perfunctory sentences that certainly hadn't included her name. If he'd called her 'Anna', she'd have understood perfectly; the store was named 'Anna's Treasures' after Leah's mother, who'd inspired Leah to start collecting, and she'd been called 'Anna' by strangers more times than she could count. But 'Leah'... "I, um...I'm sorry," she said. "I don't recall mentioning my name."
The man in white smiled. "Forgive me," he said. "I forget how long it's been since I stopped by. I'm sure you've simply forgotten me. These things do happen. Naturally, it won't stop you from being as comfortable around me as ever." Despite herself, Leah blushed-she prided herself on never forgetting a customer, and she'd apparently forgotten this one completely.
But the man in white simply waved his hand dismissively and said, "I'm not upset, my dear. Not in the slightest. Naturally, it's not worth troubling yourself over." His eyes sparkled, clearly unruffled by Leah's mistake, and she relaxed a little. Some customers took offense at even the slightest suggestion that they were anything other than old friends, but clearly this wasn't one of them.
Leah let herself unwind just a bit. "Of course," she said. "Thank you. And yes, it's Brockwitz. You have quite a good eye, Mister..." She let the unspoken question linger, determined to personalize their interactions. If this was a wealthy customer who frequented antique stores, she had no intention of forgetting him again.
"Gruden," he said, affecting a slight bow. "Aaron Gruden. Naturally, you can call me Aaron."
"Thank you, Aaron," she replied, her voice warm and welcoming. "You have an interest in carnival glass?"
"I have an interest in many things," he said. "It's why I've had such a difficult time browsing your store in a timely fashion, I'm afraid. I feel like I still haven't seen even half of what you have on offer." He looked at her with an almost courtly concern, clearly noticing her slightly stooped posture. "Naturally, you can sit down and relax while I continue looking around. I wouldn't dream of standing on ceremony with a charming young woman like you, figuratively or literally."
Leah let out a chuckle as she gratefully sank onto a wide, overstuffed couch that she had no intention of selling. She felt herself blush slightly at the compliment-it had been just a little bit longer than she liked to admit since anyone had called her a 'young woman', and even though she kept herself in good shape, she was starting to wonder if those days were behind her for good. But unless she was doing a terrible job of reading his signals, Aaron liked what he saw enough to flirt with her while he shopped. She must be doing something right.
