Chapter Text
As Mr. Gold entered the Inn, he heard Mrs. Lucas asking a young woman who he did not recognize “Now. What's the name?”
“Swan. Emma Swan.”
Presumably an out of town guest. Excellent. More tourist business would mean less trouble collecting rent from the Lucases.
Mrs. Lucas noticed him as she handed over the ledger for her guest to sign. Quickly she opened the cash drawer to get the roll of bills that made up this month's payment. “It's all here.”
“Yes, yes, of course it is, dear. Thank you. “ Turning to the visitor he added, “A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Swan. Enjoy your stay in Storybrooke.”
Gold left the Inn feeling oddly invigorated. Mrs. Lucas was his last collection stop. As he walked home it occurred to him that this would be a good time to get started on setting up an on line store. He had been toying with the idea for awhile now. There was no reason not to take advantage of modern technology. From what he had read in The New England Antiques Journal many of his competitors did the bulk of their business on line these days. Best not to get left behind.
As he passed the clock tower, he glanced up to see the hand move. That was odd. The clock had been broken for as long as he could remember. He did not recall repairs being discussed at the Town Meeting. Still it was an excellent omen. Storybrooke had been in the doldrums for far too long.
The next morning he opened the shop early, planning to get his morning routine out of the way so as to pursue his search for a web designer. Last night he had gotten caught up in his research on line. He really had been missing out. The opportunity presented by an Internet presence was immense. He was going to need someone to assist with the technical aspects, however. Since he would prefer to work with someone local he would have to do some hunting around.
On the dot of nine o'clock the shop bell chimed, followed by a cheery, “Hello?”
“Miss French, how can I help you this morning?”
The librarian was looking exceptionally lovely this morning. For years they had chatted when he stopped by the library or they ran into each other at Granny's. He had always found her charm and intelligence appealing but as she turned her beaming smile on him suddenly he was feeling things he had not felt in years.
“I find I'm in need of a tea cup?” Her smile became even warmer. “I thought you might have one.”
“I've a number in a range of prices.” As he described his stock she glanced only briefly at the cups, instead intent on him.
It make him a trifle nervous, though he was sure he concealed it well. He hoped had had not given any sign of his admittedly inappropriate feelings earlier.
By the end of his sales pitch, she was looking disappointed. “Not seeing anything you like?”
“I was hoping for something specific.” She admitted. Then she suddenly asked, “Have you met Emma Swan? Henry's birth mother?”
“She was at the Inn last night when I stopped by.” Gold had no idea where that came from.
“What did you think of her?”
“She seemed a self-possessed, and from what I've heard about her interactions with the Mayor, a very determined young woman.”
“She didn't remind you of anyone?”
Miss French seemed to be hinting at something. “Not really. But I've not had cause to spend much time with young Henry lately.
“Perhaps if you could describe what you're looking for I could see about locating it for you?” He offered.
“Adventure, happiness and True Love?” She told him with a slightly sardonic smile.
“Will you settle for a tea cup?” He chuckled. “I don't seem to have the others in stock.”
“Well not today.” She muttered. “Let me draw it for you.”
Examining her sketch he had to tell her. “There are several manufacturers that have cups of this shape, but I don't recognize the pattern. I'll do some research and see if I can find it for you though.
“Speaking of research, I'm in the market for a web designer and I noticed the library has far and away the best designed site in town. Might I ask who you employed?”
“Oh, I did it myself.” Her smile was back. “The town wouldn't give me a budget for the site, but there's enough down time at the library that I studied up on web design and did it on my own. If you like I could show you how.”
“I wouldn't want to impose.”
“Not at all.” She assured him. “I enjoy that sort of work.”
Her work spoke for itself. And it was not as though he was likely to find anyone else in Storybrooke. “And your fees?”
“Heavens, I couldn't charge you. I wouldn't even know what would be fair.”
Gold did from his research. He told her and added. “I would insist on paying you.”
“I'm fairly certain my contract with the town doesn't allow me to moonlight.” Her smile broadened. “We could trade.”
“Miss French, the normal fees for the work I have in mind would run to many more complete tea sets than you could possibly use.”
“A nice tea set and for the rest you can feed me.” She clearly liked the idea.
“Feed you?”
“A librarian's salary doesn't lend itself to much dining out. You can treat me.”
It had been a very very long time since Gold had a woman come on to him. He was clearly misreading the subtext here. “You and your young man?”
She shook her head. “I don't have a young man.”
“I was under the impression George Vartan thinks otherwise.” There was only one physical therapist in Storybrooke and she always prescribed swimming. Over the years Gold had been forced to listened to more than his share of injured young jocks bragging about their conquests. He remembered Vartan had been more interested in mouthing off to his mates than doing his therapy. Gold, who walked everywhere he reasonably could and religiously swam three times a week as directed by the therapist, had little sympathy when the young fool had failed to heal properly, thus ending a promising sports career.
The young woman shook her head again. “Having my father bribe George into taking me to some high school dances does not a relationship make. I'm not entirely sure why Papa tried to set us up. George has never finished a book in his life. He wouldn't have graduated if I hadn't written his English essays for him.”
Was it possible he was not misreading the subtext here? While he still found it unlikely Miss French was actually interested in his company, this arrangement would not only net him his website, but a great many hours spent with an intelligent and lovely young woman. “I think I'm getting the better part of this deal, Miss French, but if you're agreeable so am I.”
They shook on on it.
Storybrooke's librarian made it all the way back to the library before her composure cracked. Ducking into a bathroom stall she leaned her forehead against the door. Not knowing whether to laugh or cry she ended up stamping her feet to an accompanying, “Drat. Drat, drat, drat, drat, DRAT!”
Stronger language, learned from her beloved husband when one of his potions went wrong, would have been more satisfying, but prim little Bonnie French, Storybrooke librarian, would never let such words sully her lips.
No one else in the diner had reacted to Emma Swan this morning. Belle had known to expect the return of her memories upon meeting the Saviour, and she had been hard pressed not to react in shock. She doubted the unsuspecting would have been able to hide the return of their memories.
Even Rumpel – Mr. Gold, she reminded herself, she needed to think of him as Mr. Gold – was still in thrall to the curse. She would have to pretend she was still Bonnie French, she realized. Even if Regina was inclined to leave her alone if she learned Belle's memories had returned, and that was about as likely as pigs flying in this world, if she told anyone that she was Lady Belle of the Marchlands, Consort to Rumpelstiltskin, they would lock her in a psych ward and throw away the key. Look how Regina and the town treated poor little Henry Mills, and he had the excuse of being an imaginative child.
No, she would have to maintain her 'cover' for now. All those spy novels Bonnie French had read were going to come in very handy. Maybe she could take up co splaying just so she could occasionally be herself.
A strong cup of tea helped calm her nerves. She spent the rest of the day carefully feeling out library patrons. No one showed the slightest sign of remembering anything besides Storybrooke and that not well. By the end of the day Belle had added to her reputation of being 'a rather strange girl'. She had come up with a cover story of working on a fantasy novel. It was not a great cover story, but it would do. At the very least it gave her an excuse if anyone found the notes she had started on her computer.
Her plan so far was to befriend Emma Swan. That way she would be in a position to help.
She planned to do a good deal more than 'befriend' Rumpelstiltskin. (Note to self #7: Find out what 'Mr. Gold's' given name is in this world.) Rumpel's underlying personality seemed to have held up rather better than anyone else's. Whether because he planned it that way, Regina had not bothered to tweak it it as much, or just because 300 years of living left somethings so ingrained that even this curse could not alter them, Belle could not begin to guess.
A direct approach was out of the question. Walking up to Gold and asking, 'Wanna go out for a drink?' would make him shut down like a trap. No, she would have to make friends with him -- again. Burrow under his skin and find her way once again past the walls he erected around his heart. This meals for web design work would be just the thing.
At least this time she knew the route.