Beauty is in the Eye of the Bow-holder
2018 31 Days of Ficmas, day 14 - bows
@doctorroseprompts
31 Days of Ficmas masterlist
Summary: A random customer on a cold day makes a big purchase for his daughter - and they both gain so much more than the sought-after hairbows.
Rated T for language and some innuendo
AO3
---
The tinkling of the bell in concert with a gust of frigid air made Rose look up from her spot behind the counter. A man hurried in, and oh, he’s fit had scarcely crossed her mind when she saw he was accompanied by a small girl; any remaining hope died as she squealed, “Daddy, daddy, look!”
Figures. How come I only meet cute blokes when they’re almost always married with kids? Nature of the beast, I suppose, but still.
She dragged him by the hand towards the back wall of the shop, where the assorted hair accessories were displayed. “Look how pretty!” she enthused, going straight to the set of hair bows. About seven, with dark hair and eyes, she was the target demographic for those bows; Rose must have sold at least a dozen that week alone to similarly aged girls.
“Very nice,” the father agreed mildly, adjusting his own bowtie. “A deal’s a deal. Which one do you want?”
Seeing that they weren’t just there to look, Rose came out from behind the counter. “Welcome to Bows Galore & More! I’m Rose. How can I help you?”
“Hello,” the man responded perfunctorily, then did a double take. “Hello.”
“Hello,” Rose smiled back, letting her tongue catch between her teeth; she didn’t go for married men, but certainly wasn’t above a bit of flirting – it usually resulted in an extra sale, and was always fun. When he didn’t say anything else she raised her eyebrows; a glance down at the girl showed her preoccupied with the selection. “Can I help you?”
He came back to life, adjusting his bow tie and coughing. “Yes! Hi. Hello. How are you? Ow.” He looked down at his daughter. “Did you just kick me?”
Wise beyond her years, the girl shook her head. “I’m Susan, this is Daddy. John. He gets weird when he talks to pretty girls. Can you focus, please?”
Rose and the man- John- both turned red.
“Yes, my love, of course,” he recovered first. “Erm, tomorrow’s picture day, and we’ve got to have one of these for it. She’s been talking about them since term started.”
“They’re so pretty, and all the popular girls have one. I had to get top marks on my maths test to have one, and I did!”
Rose crouched down to be more at eye level with Susan and the bows. “Congratulations! I always struggled with Maths, so sounds like you well earned it.”
Susan nodded fiercely. “I worked soooo hard. Now I get to have my bow, so I can be beautiful!”
“Hey, hey, you are beautiful, just the way you are,” her father chided, squatting as well. “Can you say that for me?”
“I’m beautiful just the way I am,” she repeated dutifully. “But see how much beautifuller I am with one of these!” And she jammed on a headband full of bejeweled bows; it ended up at a funny angle, but it didn’t seem to bother her as she inspected herself in the mirror. “So more beautifuller.”
Both adults straightened up, him groaning before giving her a wry smile. “It’s a work in progress.”
Rose just laughed, shaking her head. “Blimey, wish I had her confidence- now, let alone at her age!”
“Why? You’re gorgeous.”
They stared at each other, Rose almost taken aback at how matter-of-factly he’d said it.
“I’m sorry, that was completely inappropriate. True, but still… Susan, have you decided yet?” He rubbed at the back of his neck, cheeks pink, and it was a damn shame he was almost certainly married; Rose wanted to see how far the flush went.
Get yourself together. Kneeling on the floor for better balance, she bit back a laugh; Susan had continued her sampling, but rather than take one off and try a new one, she’d continued to stick the bows in her hair, nearly covering her head. “Well, they all look great, but maybe you should try to match your outfit? What color shirt are you wearing for picture day?”
“Pink!” was the unsurprising reply; besides being what Rose sold the most of, nearly all of the bows Susan wore were some shade of it. “It’s my favorite.”
“Mine too! What shade is your shirt?”
Susan gave her a blank look.
Badly disguising his laughter as a cough, the man- John- pointed to a blush shade. “Like that?”
“No, Daddy,” she shook her head, bows wobbling precariously.
“Oh, okay. More like that?” Rather than move more into the pinks he went the other way, pointing to a peach color.
Susan heaved a sigh that seemed too big for her little body, making a face at Rose. “He thinks he’s funny.”
“Oi! Am too funny.”
“Funny looking.”
Rose couldn’t help but giggle, both at the deadpan delivery and his offended expression.
“Seven going on seventeen,” he muttered. “God help me. Now, quit mouthing off if you want your prize and pick something out; we’re late for Mummy.”
Why are the good ones always happily married?
“I have to look pretty for Mummy,” Susan said firmly, trying on a few different ones. “But she’s not gonna even know.” A fuchsia-colored headband seemed to be the winner as she tried it on a third time, meeting Rose’s eye in the mirror. “Mummy’s an angel. She died ‘cause I was born.”
“When,” her father spoke sharply, kneeling and turning her to face him. “Mummy died when you were born, not because you were born. And now she’s your guardian angel. Okay?”
She nodded.
“Say it, please.”
“Mummy died when I was born. Don’t see how that’s different, though.” She looked up at Rose. “What’s this one called?”
“Fuchsia.”
The little girl beamed. “That was Mummy’s favorite, right?”
Looking like he wanted to continue the when/because conversation, he nonetheless let it go. “It was. You look very pretty. Is this the one?”
“It’s the color,” she corrected. “Now I gotta pick the- what’s it called?”
“Style?”
“That’s it!”
-
Twenty minutes later Rose finally checked them out; one of each style, all fuchsia. The girl was a proper chatterbox, and Rose now knew everything about her, from favorite food (fish sticks and custard), subjects in school (maths and science) to friends in school, though she got the sense the last list was embellished.
Pulling out his wallet as he watched his daughter explore the rhinestone tiaras, he cleared his throat. “Uh, sorry. We’re still working on what’s appropriate to tell complete strangers.”
“She’s precious,” Rose said sincerely. “I loved chatting with her. And, erm, sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks. It’s not easy, but… she’s worth it. And it’s been years, now.”
Rose shook her head. “Doesn’t really matter. I was a baby when my dad died – not a day goes by I don’t think about him.” She grimaced. “Sorry, that was probably the opposite of helpful.”
“Eh,” he shrugged. “It’s hard to miss someone you never knew. Just have other peoples’ memories to lean on.”
They watched together as Susan held a pair of earrings up to her ear, and he gave a full body shudder. “God, she’s going to be a teenager any second, and I am not ready.”
Laughing, Rose said, “She might already be; but she’ll be fine, and you’ll get through it, reasonably in one piece.”
He smiled, and her treacherous heart thumped. Just ‘cause he’s a widow doesn’t mean he’s available. “Right, munchkin, time to go,” he announced, gathering the gift bag with their purchases. “Thank you for your help, Rose.”
“Thanks, Rose!”
Thump thump thump. “Thanks for coming in. If you’re ever passing by, stop in and let me know how picture day goes!”
She waved goodbye as they left, Susan contorting herself around to wave until they were out of sight.
“Cute kid.” Rose sighed. “Hot dad.”
-
Chewing his pizza, John watched his daughter. She was picking at her food more than eating it, and he wondered yet again whether their ritual of Tuesday pizza graveside was healthy for her. River would know. “You know, munchkin, you can always talk to me. About anything you’re thinking, or feeling. Any questions. I’m always here for you.”
Her lower lip caught between her teeth, Susan lowed her slice back to the plate, toying with her napkin. “I do have a question.”
“Shoot.”
She looked up. “D’you think if you and Rose got married I could get free hairbows?”
The fuck? “Wha- the girl from the bow store?”
“Uh huh.” Her dark ponytail bobbed. “She was pretty, and she liked you. You liked her too. You’d have pretty babies.”
John pinched himself, certain he’d fallen down a rabbit hole. “You think the pretty girl from the store and I should get married and have babies? So that you can get free hairbows?” His voice got progressively higher pitched, and by the time he was done, she was giggling.
Jaw hanging, he didn’t know where to start, spluttering for a long moment (to further laugher), before managing, “What makes you think either of us would like that?”
“She’s pretty, and nice, and she kept looking at your bum and smiling. I bet she’d kiss you if you asked nicely.”
Forget seventeen, I’ve got a matchmaking grandmother over here! He looked at the headstone next to him. “What do you think? Do you hear what your daughter is saying?"
“You always say Mummy would want us to be happy,” Susan pointed out logically. “That we should remember her and honor her, but we have to keep moving with our lives. Don’t you want to be happy, Daddy?”
That was a path he wanted no part of, so he circled back. “Okay, let’s say she did like me. What makes you think I like her?”
A smile so like River’s it made his breath catch stole over Susan’s face; like he’d stumbled into her trap and she held the upper hand. “’Cause if you didn’t, you’d’a just said not happening and changed the subject. Tha’s what you usually do. You liiiike her. You wanna kisss her,” she taunted. “Can I be the flower girl?”
With no good retort, and blown away at the conversation, all he could manage was, “Eat your pizza, Susan.”
Her little smirk said she wasn’t fooled, but she took an oversized bit all the same.
-
It would be a lie to say she’d forgotten the little family, but it took her a week to stop looking up with hope every time the bell chimed, only to be disappointed it wasn’t them.
Oh, come on, Rose groaned, when the bell tinkled. Five more minutes and I can go home to a bottle of wine.
“One second,” she called, straightening up her paperwork before stepping back out onto the shop floor. “How can I- Susan! Hi!”
The pair were standing in front of the register, Susan in a dress, while John tugged at his bowtie.
“See?” the little girl said smugly to her father, making him sigh and shake his head.
“Proves nothing.”
“Don’t be a coward.”
Rose snorted, though their conversation went past her. “Don’t you both look nice and dressed up. Going out? How did picture day go?”
Susan looked up at him with an expectant expression, and it was amusing to watch the contortions his face went through.
“If you don’t like this idea, blame Susan,” he started off. “We- ow, stop kicking me!” Susan won the exchange of glares, so he cleared his throat and started again. “I was wondering if you might be interested in hearing about it over dinner. With us. Both of us. We’re kind of- well not kind of, we are- a package deal.”
Two anxious faces looked at Rose, and she took a moment to compose her thoughts, though a smile was threatening to overtake her face. “Is this a date?”
He said no while Susan said yes, and the withering look coming from the seven-year-old could’ve made a grown man cry.
Rose raised an eyebrow, enjoying the show. I would definitely like to spend more time with this family. “Which is it?”
“It can be a date, if that’s what you want,” John said, swallowing nervously. “Or a friendship thing.”
“What do you want?” she asked gently, watching his face.
“Date!” chirped Susan, earning her an exasperated look from her father.
“Don’t you wanna go see if there’s new bows or something?”
She shook her head. “Uh uh. It took me weeeeeks to get you in here! Hurry uuuuup! Mooo! Moooooooo!”
“Moo?”
John rolled his eyes fondly at that. “Coward – cow – moo. Coward was the word of the day, and it’s unfortunately her new favorite. Especially after a trip to Scotland over the summer.”
Rose smiled, tongue catching between her teeth, watching his Adam’s apple bob again. “I like steak.”
“How’s Italian? Daddy promised me stuffed shells,” Susan asked, oblivious, but John’s eyes went dark as he caught her meaning.
“Yeah?”
“Susan? Does Daddy make breakfast?”
“Uh huh! His waffles are the best.”
Rose and John exchanged a steamy look, and she licked her lips, eyes lingering over him. “Give me ten minutes to close up. Italian sounds great.”
“Yay!”
-
Eighteen months later, Susan was allowed to pick out two bows to go with her flower girl dress.
