“You’re looking healthy, baby sister.”
The smirk on Jean-Jacques’s face was enough to make the irritation that his sister had been trying to keep bottled flare just a little bit. She dropped her bag down angrily on her desk and he lifted his shoulders as though to show her he was half-spooked. His smirk turned into a goofy grin and he let his eyes flick over her clothes, wondering how she could be so like their mother in that despite the fatigue behind her eyes and the sore redness of her nose, she was still dressed to kill.
He and their brother, Remy, would have been huddled under blankets at home, pleading sympathy form their wives and only really getting it from their toddlers. And even if they had to be in work they would have been in trackie bottoms and their designated sad hoodie. Their little sister, by contrast, was wearing a pretty spring dress and pumps. Her hair was curled nicely and she’d taken time with her earrings and necklaces that morning. Her only bit of what they would call sickness slobbery was a rustic brown cardigan with large green buttons that was on the too-big side of fitting her and it allowed her the reprieve of being a bit snuggly.
Alice brought her hands together and Jean-Jacques hastily pulled his glasses down from their roost in his nest of sandy curls. His eyebrows rose curiously as her hands moved, creating familiar symbols that made his smile widen all the more.
So, she’s lost her voice, he thought, chucking down his pencil. He got to his feet and pulled a box of soups off of the shelf above his desk and grabbed a clean-ish, looking orange mug off of the stand next to it.
“I’ll make you something to drink, shall I?”
Alice nodded gratefully and sank down into her chair, absently flicking her eyes across her computer monitor which was, much to her dismay, already alerting her to far too many emails. In the Muggle world, they were a book delivery company. They did bulk orders for libraries or schools but also delivered to individuals. Marie-Elise, their mother, and Remy had recently decided to dabble with publishing, leaving Alice and Jean-Jacques to run the magical store and deal with the online orders.
Almost all of them had gone into books. Only Marianne was the exception, with her and her husband, Stephen, going into the restaurant business with their father, Paul-Henri. As a result, that ‘half’ of the family, as it were, could often be found in France. Their half was almost exclusively in London. It was rare, these days, for them all to be together at once but that didn’t mean they didn’t see much of each other, thankfully. They were all too close to drift apart.
“I’ll deal with the orders, Allie,” Jean-Jacques returned from the kitchenette, stirring the soup as he went. “Why don’t you handle the floor today?”
Alice looked up at him and scowled, waving her hands at him testily.
“No, you don’t need to be able to speak to deal with the customers. Look, it’s quiet. It’ll be fine. Just put up a nice sign and let them know you’re suffering. They might even pity you and buy something.” He winked and set down the cup for her. “Go on.”
I’m terribly sorry! I can’t speak! Ursula the Sea Witch stole my voice! Alice capped her pen and propped up the sign in front of the bookmark and badge stands that were meant to tempt people at the till. Putting the pen back into the pot behind the desk, Alice plopped herself down forlornly in the chair and pulled a tissue from the box, sorely wishing that the cold would hurry up and muddle through her. She’d already eaten all of her throat sweets that morning. An old lady who had bought a book on Potions had even given her some. Those had long been gone, too, in the bottom of her bin. She was on her second soup, by the way. Needless to say, she wasn’t a very happy witch.
The only upshot of the whole thing was that Lemon had come to work with her today. The kids who visited always loved Lemon. The corgi was a happy little soul. She matched the children exactly in that regard. She was also doing her mistress a favour in that, currently, she was sat on Alice’s feet, keeping them warm in a way that she hadn’t realised she’d been missing. She was lying, actually. There were two positives. The second was the book she was reading. Those two paired with the soup did quite a bit to lift her mood.
What really brightened the witch, though, was the little face that appeared on the other side of the counter. Alice smiled, unable quite to help herself. She warmed instantly to the chatty little creature before her. Alice nodded, surprise lighting up her face. She lifted the book out of her lap, hastily slotting her bookmark in between the page leafs, and held it out to the girl, unsure what she intended on doing with it, since Alice supposed that she and her uncle must have had a copy, but content enough to indulge her.
An early sneezing fit had made the customers steer a bit clear of her and had asked Charlie, their cashier, to ring up their purchases instead. This was the first person Alice had spoken to – spoken being the inoperative word – since.
Lemon was keen on doing all of the speaking, instead. Excited to hear the bell-like voice of the little girl, the corgi abandoned Alice and scurried out form behind the desk to greet the girl excitedly. Alice dashed out and caught hold of Lemon – round the middle rather than by the collar – and lifted her up off of the floor before she could get near the little girl. The last thing Alice wanted was for her to have an allergic reaction to Lemon’s fur or something.
“Are you—” Alice’s voice barely crackled out and she brought her lips together again as she brought a hand to her throat. Wincing a bit as the skin smarted under her touch, Alice carefully set Lemon down and tapped her on the fluffy bum end, encouraging her to sit down and wait to see if the girl would come to her, scratching her behind the ears as a thank you for doing so. You couldn’t fault Lemon for one thing – she definitely loved people.