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Business usually started to pick back up in September.
Summer was always slow. They’d sell some silk lined or unlined gloves, and the occasional opera length gloves for women, but for large parts of the summer season Penelope would clean the nooks and crannies of the store and do the small tasks that always got pushed on the back burner during the busy season. Occasionally she’d spend the first couple of hours cramming in some writing, if there was little else to do.
It was late September now though, and as things at her day job picked up, her writing had to happen during the weekend or evenings.
She was helping a lady find a pair of navy leather gloves, presenting her with the different wool lined options and finding the right fit, when the door opened again. There was no bell to announce the arrival, but the store was small. It was impossible to miss another customer entering. She noticed the silhouette of the person, but as the only employee in the store, she had to finish up with the lady before she could attend to the next customer. They’d have to wait a moment.
Ringing up and nicely packing the lady’s new pair of gloves, Penelope thanked her for shopping with them and wished her a nice afternoon, sending her on her way.
The new arrival at the store was facing away from her, inspecting the rack of accessories they offered. Penelope didn’t love the amount of accessories her boss insisted on them offering in store, but it was helpful in keeping customers entertained when they had to wait for their turn to get a proper look at the gloves they offered, neatly displayed in little shelves behind the counter. It looked impressive, but kept the customers from being able to reach or try on anything without the help of an employee. It was a blessing and a pain in the arse at the same time. In the slow season where she had all the time in the world to help each and every customer it was nice, and definitely added a touch of service and personality to the old family owned store. In the winter season, when there were two or three shop assistants at work at the same time and a line that at times went out the door it was a pain.
“May I help you with anything?” she asked, eyeing the man.
He was tall and had broad shoulders. Not the kind of broad that could feel unsettling to her if the customer got angry or if he’d been walking behind her on a dark evening.
The man turned then and smiled at her, with white teeth. A brilliant smile. “Yes please. I’m in need of some gloves. You might have spoken with my sister actually,” he mentioned. “I’m part of the Basset wedding party.” He’d stepped closer to the counter she was half hidden behind, letting one hand rest on it as he spoke.
He was handsome, with soft looking brown hair in a fashionable cut with the sides a little shorter than the top and a hint of curls, but not in the obnoxious fade style she saw on most men her age. And those green eyes. Brilliant green eyes that looked as kind as his smile.
“Yes of course, the Basset wedding.” She nodded, shaking herself out of her wandering thoughts, remembering talking to a lovely woman about it a few weeks earlier. The woman had first been by in person to pick out a style of gloves, two styles for the men and one for the women. And had later called to settle details for the payment. She’d already had a few people from the wedding party come by and try on gloves already.
“I’ve never owned a pair before, at least nothing as fancy as these, and Daph really wanted them to fit nicely since she’s paying. Or her husband is, I guess,” the man chuckled.
“Well, we’ll start by taking a look at your hands then, and we’ll figure it out for you,” Penelope smiled.
She could usually make a good guess on the glove size by looking at someone’s hands. Penelope had been working there for years by this point, starting out part time during university and then taking over as the only full-time employee half a year after finishing her uni degree. Mrs. Varley, who held the position before her, had wanted to retire, and Penelope found that she quite enjoyed the work most days. And it was a job that allowed her to focus a lot of her energy on her writing.
The man lifted both hands up for her, a little awkward in his movements, clearly unsure of how to show them off to her.
The hands were large. Nice and fitting the rest of his frame, proportional to his height and the perfectly broad shoulders. The shape of them more long and slender than thick and meaty, but also not slender enough to look like they belonged on a piano. And for a brief moment, she found herself wondering how those hands would feel on her body.
“Thank you,” she nodded, voice breathy, before turning to the display wall and pulling out the two styles of gloves the future Mrs. Basset had decided on for the men of the wedding party. Both styles were simple and elegant, but Penelope knew they were fancy. Made in Europe, both with a knit cashmere lining and lambskin leather. One pair were hand sown which gave a more masculine look and the other pair machine sown which gave a more sleek look to them.
“These are the styles that were decided upon,” she informed him, turning back to present them on the counter. “I believe you should be a size ten. Please try these on.” She motioned to one of the pairs she’d presented. “The fit should be snug, but not uncomfortably so,” Penelope explained. “They will give a bit once they’ve been worn just once or twice, and if they are too large they won’t be as warm. And most importantly, they should sit snug in between your fingers.” A lot of men insisted on buying gloves that she knew would be too large once they’d been worn. She would try to persuade them to get the right size, but sometimes she would have to give up and just let them buy what they thought was the right fit.
He’d put the glove on as she spoke, now wiggling his fingers a bit and by the concentrated look on his face, she could tell that he was trying to decide if they fit like she was describing that they should.
“I think they fit,” he told her, his tone of voice questioning.
She couldn’t help but chuckle. This was a typical response for someone that hadn’t owned a pair of well fitting gloves before.
“May I feel?” She asked, looking up at him through her lashes and gesturing to his hands.
“Oh uh, go ahead.” Holding out his hands with the gloves on, Penelope lifted her own hands and started feeling over the smooth leather to check the fit. His hands looked so big masculine in the hand sewn gloves.
She did it often enough for customers, feeling to check the fit. It was normal, she had to remind herself. She’d done it for 20 year old girls and 80 year old men before. But this was certainly no 80 year old man in front of her. She only hoped the blush on her cheeks wasn’t too noticeable.
She finished off by pinching in between his fingers, making sure that they sat nicely in between. “It feels good.”
It took her a moment to realize her choice of words.
Clearing her throat, she tried again. “They feel like a good fit, I mean.”
His green eyes looked down at her, sparkling. A smile still on his face, one side of his mouth possibly a little higher in a grin now.
“Should I try the other pair as well?”
“If you wish. Mrs. Basset, uh, the future Mrs. Basset, that is, said either one of these. You wouldn’t need both.” Penelope explained to him. But he was already working on pulling on the second pair of gloves as she did so.
“These feel a bit too tight,” he decided after having them on for a moment. “And they don’t fit all the way down between my fingers either.” They did look tight to her.
“The different models vary slightly in sizes, I’ll find one size up,” she declared, glad for a moment turned away from him to gather herself as she found the size up. Taking a deep breath before turning back to him.
She’d only been turned for a moment, but he’d clearly been watching her, as he looked guilty when she turned back to him. As if he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“Here,” she held out the size up, and let him put them on.
“These feel better,” he declared, holding out his gloved hand to her, inviting her to feel once again. She bit her lower lip as she did, feeling the leather over his hands again. “They are,” she agreed with a nod, meeting his eyes as she looked up, quickly pulling her hands from his in embarrassment and looking away. She’d held on a moment too long.
“Which one do you prefer?” He asked.
“Either or is good for the Basset wedding, the bride confirmed herself.” Penelope replied.
“You said. But I was asking which one you like better.” He was looking at her now, eyes holding hers. “Okay, here.” He put one glove of the first pair on, so that he had one of each on each hand, holding them out for her to take another look.
“Well this one,” Penelope pointed to his left hand. “Is hand sewn. It has a bit more of a rustic and… masculine look. And this other one,” pointing to his right hand. “Is machine sewn. It’s a sleeker look. It’s more popular with younger customers.” She never liked it when customers asked her opinion on the designs. Everyone liked different styles, and her job was to help the customer with fit and finding something they liked. Her opinion on the styles didn’t matter, in the end.
He was still looking expectedly at her, one eyebrow slightly raised. “Okay, but which one would you choose? Not for yourself maybe, but… if you were to buy a pair for your boyfriend. Which one would you go for?”
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” She replied, first then realizing that it hadn’t been the point of his question. Blushing again, Penelope sighed softly. He was clearly not letting her worm her way out of this one. “I uh, I like the hand sown one. There’s just something a bit rustic about it that I really love. But that’s just my personal taste.”
He eyed his own left hand, looking closer at the hand sewn glove, nodding lightly as if agreeing with her. “I’ll take that one, then. Thank you.”
She waited for him to take it off, before grabbing the pair he had decided on and moving to the side to pack them up for him. Her hands trembled slightly as she wrapped them in tissue paper and found a bag, hands moving over the screen of the cash register to add them to the Basset account. Feeling stupid about the trembling. She’d never see him again, and she usually never let customers get to her like this.
“They’ve been added to the Basset account for you. There you go, have a nice afternoon!” Her usual smile reserved for customers painted her face as she held out the small shopping bag for him.
“Thank you, and thank you for your help. Uh..?” He eyed her, head tilted to one side.
“Penelope,” she told him politely.
“Thank you for the help, Penelope.” Her name sounded wonderful coming out of his mouth.
He turned and walked out the door then, leaving her to finally take a deep deep breath once the door closed behind him. Eyes following him discreetly through the windows of the shop as he crossed the road outside, ready for him to disappear from her view. To never be seen again.
Her heart beat fast as he suddenly stopped, standing there for a moment, before hurriedly turning and walking with intention.
Oh god, he was coming back!
Her heart beating wildly as he pushed the door to the store open, stepping back inside.
“I never usually do this at someone’s workplace, since it’s your job to be friendly and nice and stuff. But… could I give you my number? Or instagram, or something? If not, you can ask me to leave right now and I won’t bother you and we can just forget this last minute happened, yeah?” He rambled, not giving her a moment to say anything. Not that she would have been able to get a word out at the moment anyway.
Penelope’s heart was beating out of her chest. Was he really asking her if he could give her his number?
“I’m Colin, by the way.” His voice calmer now after a moment of silence, eyeing her expectedly.
Oh right. He probably wanted her to say something.
“You may,” she finally managed to splutter out, cheeks flaming from her blush.
Her hands went to the notepad she kept on hand by the register, sliding it and a pen over to him.
Colin looked concentrated as he wrote down first a number, and then what she assumed was an Instagram handle. “I might need a wedding date soon,” he joked, before stopping, realizing what he’d just said. “Not as a first date,” he cleared his throat.
Penelope smiled softly at him, taking the notepad as he slid it back to her.
“You better message me, Penelope,” he told her softly, green eyes kind as they looked at her again. It didn’t feel threatening, just like he genuinely wanted her to get in contact, yet leaving it in her hands.
He nodded at her, “I’m gonna go now. For real this time.” And with that, he went out the door again, this time slower but with intent.
If she let out a little squeak as the door closed behind him, leaving her alone, no one would ever know.
When she held his gloved hand in mid December during his sister’s wedding, Penelope finally got to feel his big gloved hands hold hers. It wasn’t the first time he had held her hand. That had been on their second date, as he did the gentlemanly thing and walked her home after dinner, yet refused to come up to her apartment that evening. But today, she got to see the gloves on her now officially boyfriend.