Chapter 27

"Here we are, my dear," Grandfather told her when they stepped into the little antique shop, the door jingling softly as they entered.

The shop was dimly lit, filled with the musty scent of aged wood and polished brass. Shelves lined the walls, displaying a vast array of curiosities from bygone eras. Penelope's eyes widened with wonder as she took in the sight of ornate clocks, delicate porcelain figurines, and shelves of dusty, old books.

Grandfather led the way with a purposeful stride. "Remember, my dear," he said in a low voice, "we are looking for a watch that doesn't work. It is not about the time it tells but the story it holds."

Penelope nodded, her excitement barely contained. She had never accompanied her father in this manner, and her little heart leaped with joy at experiencing something like this. Grandfather had a way of making every little detail come alive, and she cherished every moment she spent in the company of this dear, old man.

As they approached the counter, the proprietor, an elderly man with spectacles perched on the end of his nose, looked up from a ledger. He smiled warmly. "Good day to you both. How may I assist you?"

"Good day," Grandfather replied, inclining his head politely. "We are in search of a particular item, a watch to be precise. One that no longer functions."

The proprietor raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "A watch that doesn't work, you say? That is an unusual request. May I ask why?"

Grandfather smiled, his eyes twinkling with a secret shared only between him and Penelope. "I shall let this lovely lady respond to that question."

"Well…" Penelope smiled, blushing a little. "It is to be a gift, for someone very dear, someone who likes to tinker with broken watches."

"Ah, a fellow clock enthusiast," the proprietor nodded thoughtfully. "I am one of those myself. I wholeheartedly understand the joy of repairing watches." He motioned for them to follow. "I believe I have a few such items in the back. If you would be so kind as to come with me, I can show them to you."

They followed him through a narrow aisle to a small room at the back of the shop. The proprietor unlocked a glass cabinet and carefully extracted a tray of pocket watches, each one unique and worn with age. He laid the tray on a velvet-covered table, inviting them to take a closer look.

Grandfather picked up a silver watch with intricate engravings. "This one," he murmured, turning it over in his hands. "Look at the detail, Penelope. The craftsmanship is exquisite."

Penelope leaned in, studying the intricate patterns etched into the case. "It is truly beautiful Grandfather," she agreed. "But… does it have a story?"

The proprietor smiled. "Ah, every piece in my shop has a story, miss. This particular watch belonged to a sea captain in the early 17th century. He carried it with him on long voyages though it stopped working on his final journey. Some say it ceased to function at the exact moment he perished in a storm."

Penelope shivered, captivated by the tale. "A watch that has been someone's closest companion, even in his final moments, most certainly providing solace and comfort," she whispered. "It is perfect."

Grandfather nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Indeed, it is. We'll take it."

The proprietor wrapped the watch carefully in tissue paper and placed it in a small wooden box. As they completed the transaction, he looked at them curiously. "I think whoever this watch is meant for will love it."

Penelope smiled. "I hope it will remind him that every moment, even those that have passed and cannot be measured, is precious."

The proprietor nodded, seemingly satisfied with what he had heard. "A noble sentiment, indeed. It will bring him much joy, I'm certain."

As Penelope and Grandfather left the shop, she held the box close, feeling the weight of history in her hands. She was absolutely certain that James would love it, indeed, for it was so much more than just a broken timepiece. It was a connection to the past, a reminder of the stories that linger in the shadows of time. She glanced up at the stoic man walking next to her, grateful for his presence in her life.

"Thank you, Grandfather," she said softly, "for all your help."

He smiled down at her, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. "The pleasure is mine, Penelope. I've seen the effect you have on my grandson, and it brings me so much joy to have you not only in his life but in mine as well. You truly are a ray of sunshine."

She blushed at those words, gently patting him on the hand. "Let's go home and arrange everything. I wish to surprise James immediately!"

* * *

It was late in the afternoon, and James sat in his study while the sunlight filtered through the heavy drapes. His writing table was cluttered with papers, books, and a decanter of whiskey, none of which held his interest at that moment.

He ran a hand through his tousled hair, frustration evident in every line of his tense posture. Why did she have this effect on him? He had always prided himself on his self-control, his ability to keep his emotions concealed and under control. But Penelope… she was different. Her presence unsettled him in ways he could not fully understand.

James stood and began to pace the length of his study, his footsteps muffled by the thick Persian carpet. His mind raced with every reaction coming back to him, every smile, every glance, every touch. He could recall the exact shade of her eyes, the way her laughter seemed to light up a room. He shook his head in an effort to dispel the image from his mind. This was madness.

Just as he was falling deeper and deeper into the abyss of his own emotions, a soft knock on the door interrupted him, bringing him back to the present moment. He frowned, glancing at the clock on the mantel. He hoped it was not an unexpected visitor.

"Come in," he called, trying to keep his voice steady.

The door creaked open, and Penelope stepped hesitantly into the room. "I'm sorry to interrupt, James. I was wondering if you had a moment to spare."

His heart skipped a beat at the sight of her. She stood there, her dainty silhouette framed by the doorway, looking as beautiful and uncertain as ever. He felt a surge of emotions, longing, frustration, and an undeniable pull toward her.

"Penelope," he said, immediately standing up, "it is quite all right. I was trying to do some work. As you can see from the load, I wasn't very successful at it. Please, come in."

Penelope walked in, closing the door behind her. As she neared the writing table, he couldn't take his eyes off of her. She moved with such grace, her presence filling the room with warmth. He realized in that moment that he didn't want to push her away. He wanted her close, more than anything. He walked over to her, standing a little too close, but he couldn't help himself. He needed to be near her.

He then noticed that she was holding a small box in her hands. It was intricately carved, the wood polished to a soft sheen. He looked at her curiously, his brow furrowing slightly. Still, he didn't want to ask about it. At least, not directly.

"Is there something you wished to talk to me about?" he asked instead.

"Actually, yes," she said, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink as she looked down at the box in her hands, almost as if she had forgotten she was holding it. "This," she said, her voice tinged with a mix of shyness and excitement, "is a surprise… for you."

James felt his heart skip another beat, curiosity soaring sky high. "A surprise? For me?"

She nodded, clearly a bit nervous, but her eyes sparkled with anticipation. "I wanted to do something for you to show my appreciation for… everything."

He wondered if she wanted to use a different word instead of everything. Did she want to show him appreciation for his affection? For his tenderness?

"Here," she said, fumbling over that single word, blushing even more fervently.

He took the box from Penelope, noticing that both their fingers were trembling. He gently opened it, the hinges creaking softly. Inside, nestled in a bed of velvet, was an antique watch. It was exquisite, its silver case intricately engraved with delicate patterns. Though the hands no longer moved, it was a piece rich with history and craftsmanship. He carefully lifted it from the box, feeling the weight of it in his hand.

"Penelope…" he said softly, his voice down to a whisper, "this is beautiful. I don't know what to say."

"It is broken so it needs someone to mend it." She looked down shyly as she spoke then once she gathered the courage, she locked eyes with his once again. "I thought it might be something you'd appreciate. Grandfather came to help me, and when he showed it to me, it reminded me of you in a way. Strong, intricate, full of stories."

"Grandfather went with you?" James asked incredulously. "He rarely wants to go anywhere when I ask him to accompany me."

Penelope chuckled. "He actually offered to join me himself."

"He did?" James asked, laughing. "Well, I shall have to have a serious conversation with him about that."

They both laughed together then he remembered what she said about the watch. He was deeply moved as he stared at it, turning it around in his hand.

"Grandfather and you have an incredible eye for these things," he said, admiring the craftsmanship. "This is a gift I'll always treasure, Penelope. Thank you. I can't wait to start working on it."

Penelope smiled, her eyes glistening. "I am so glad you like it."

James felt a lump in his throat as he looked at her. He gently placed the watch back in its box and set it on the desk. Then, he reached out and took her hands in his, pulling her close. He was still afraid of his feelings, much more than before, but he also knew that he couldn't hide from himself any longer.

"Having you here, Penelope… it has been a dream," he admitted with a smile.

She smiled back then her smile turned bleak.

"What happened?" he asked, worried. "Did I say something?"

"No, no," she shook her head quickly. "It's not that. I just remembered a letter I received this morning."

"From whom?"

"My father," she replied. "Vanessa is back, and they are inviting us to dinner to uhm… celebrate her return."

He frowned. He didn't really want to go there, but they were still her family, and he was her husband — he had to accompany her. More importantly, he would not let her go there alone. He could sense an underlying hostility in those people, and he didn't want them around Penelope without him.

"Well, we shall go, of course," he stated reassuringly.

He could see in her eyes that she was as reluctant to go as he was, but she didn't want him to notice that, so he remained silent and comforting.

"When is the dinner?" he asked.

"I wrote back telling them to inform us," she explained, "but I suppose within the next couple of days."

That will give us time to prepare mentally, he thought to himself.

"Good," he nodded, letting go of her hand, but instantly, he regretted doing it. "We shall go and… celebrate."

He wasn't sure what they would be celebrating, but he was adamant to be by his wife's side no matter what.

"Thank you," she replied, withdrawing from him. "I shall leave you to your work."

"All right," he agreed, walking around the writing table and remaining standing until she left his study, closing the door behind her.

He glanced at the watch one more time, and a sense of tenderness washed over him. He had to admit that he wasn't expecting any such thing and to have his grandfather involved…

He smiled to himself, realizing that, without even noticing, they had become a little family of their own. The thought frightened him, but at the same time, it brought him comfort.

Perhaps he could open his heart to someone and not have it broken. Was such a thing possible?