Nothing ever happened in Storybrooke. Once, the old clock on the library had started ticking again after twenty-odd years, so the town had thought something might be happening, but it had turned out that a nesting bird had managed to grease the cogs, and it stopped again a few minutes later.
On the Sunday that the FOR SALE sign in front of the defunct cannery was covered in a bright red SOLD sticker, everyone assumed that this happening was a false alarm. People talked about it for about an hour, until everyone in Granny's decided that it was another misguided attempt by the mayor to stir up some excitement, and no one gave it any more thought until the bulldozer came.
The sole employee of Tim's Bait and Tackle was the first to see it, since all there ever was to do at work was stare out the window at the abandoned cannery.
"Mary Margaret," Belle said, cell phone hanging just short of her ear since she was too busy staring.
"What's wrong? Did something happen? I told you that you need to get Tim out of his boat when you need to reach the equipment on the top shelves! Hang on, let me dial 911 on the landline."
"Don't dial 911, everything's fine. There's a bulldozer."
"A bulldozer? Where?"
"Outside, at the cannery!" Belle picked her way between boxes of rolled up fishing line and bait, tripping on her clunky work boots in her haste to get out the door.
"What? Really? Do you think someone really bought it?"
"I don't know. I mean, Mayor Mills could just be pretending it's been sold so that she can get rid of it."
Belle's flannel shirt wasn't enough of a barrier against the gusty October afternoon, but it was too late to go back and get her coat. She jogged toward the cannery, though it was slow-going with all of the sand.
"I'm coming down there," Mary Margaret said, sucking in a deep breath.
"Mary Margaret, no. You stay where you are. You know what the doctor said."
"Belle, I don't have cancer, I'm just pregnant."
Belle slowed a bit, so that her own breathing wouldn't sound as labored as her friend's. Mary Margaret would take any chance she could to leave the house. "Your blood pressure is too high for you to come traipsing along the marina."
"I'm not going to be traipsing—"
"You just stay at home, like the doctor prescribed, and I will stay on the phone with you."
"Belle, I feel perfectly well enough to drive down to the marina and stroll along the beach with you. Are you wheezing? You should lie down, Belle. I'll take over."
She slowed again, not nearly close enough to the bulldozer for her curiosity, but afraid that Mary Margaret would end up in the hospital if she didn't take her time.
"I'm fine, Mary Margaret. I'm just excited. I'm getting closer, although I can't really tell what I'm getting closer to."
"I found the keys! David did a good job of hiding them, but I—"
"Mary Margaret, you sit your pregnant bottom back in your rocking chair and go back to knitting that afghan for Ashley, or I swear to you, I will—"
"It's fine, Belle, it's fine, I'm just going to drive slowly, make sure I'm listening to soothing music—"
"I will hang up the phone and I will call David."
The other end was silent, and Belle took the opportunity to sprint a few feet while Mary Margaret stewed over her threat. She hated to invoke the husband, but she didn't have time to convince Mary Margaret not to leave. She was so close.
"Fine," Mary Margaret said. "But you should know that I finished that afghan for Ashley, and I am starting on one for you, even if you won't let me come on your adventure. Because I love you."
"It's not an adventure, Mary Margaret, I'm just going—oh." She squinted, slowing down as she approached the bulldozer. "There's no one in it."
"There's no one in the bulldozer?" Mary Margaret half-shrieked. Belle winced.
"Nope. It's empty. Someone must be off taking a break. Are there any strangers in Granny's?"
"How should I know? I'm stuck at home."
"I thought maybe someone else could have called you with news." She made her way through the churned dirt to the empty cabin. "Leroy usually does, especially now you're home."
Mary Margaret gasped. "You're right! I'll call him! Oh, but wait, I want to know what you find, first."
"Okay, hang on." Belle wedged the phone between her ear and shoulder. Grabbing onto the mirror and a window ledge with her now-free hands, she hauled herself onto the muddy front wheel, shimmying around until she could see through the windshield.
"All right, I'm on the bulldozer."
"You're on it?" Mary Margaret asked.
"Yes."
"I want to be on a bulldozer!"
"Mary Margaret, you know that, even if your blood pressure was normal, there is no way that I would let you climb up this monstrosity seven months pregnant?"
"Yeah, yeah, just get inside the car."
"Hang on." Belle set the phone on the hood, then hauled herself forward until she had joined it. "Okay, I'm looking through the window. I don't see anything except a bobble-head hula dancer and a pack of cigarettes."
"Not even a water bottle?"
"Mary Margaret, this is not the time to think about hydration."
"Sorry, sorry, you're right! It's the baby, I'm always thinking about nutrition now."
"I know, I know. I really don't see—oh, wait, there's a sign over by the cannery."
"Well, get off the bulldozer and go look at it!"
"Yes, mother."
She fell more than climbed off of the tires, and soon she was jogging over to the real estate sign that had sprung up next to the SOLD one.
"Are you there? Can you read it? What does it say?" Mary Margaret asked.
Belle squinted at it. Gold and Associates? What was something called Gold and Associates going to do in an old cannery?
"Belle!"
"It says 'Gold and Associates.' What do you think that is?"
"Associates? Huh." Mary Margaret tapped the phone. "Sounds like Regina couldn't think of a better secret name for whatever she's doing at the cannery."
"Yeah. That's disappointing." Belle brushed her hands on her jeans, smearing dirt all over the thighs. "Well, not much of an adventure, but it was a nice break from work, I guess."
Mary Margaret sighed. "Yeah. I guess we can thank Regina for that."
"Yeah, I guess so. Hey, I'll stop by later, all right? I need to get back before Tim realizes I've been gone."
"All right. I'll just knit your blanket. Alone."
"Goodbye, Mary Margaret."
They hung up, and Belle jogged back to the bait and tackle shop. From the window, she could see the bulldozer. It didn't move all day, not even when she left to take unnecessary inventory in the back, or when she stood between the shelves for fifteen entire minutes, trying to coax something into happening.
But nothing ever happened in Storybrooke, and when she got to work the next morning, the bulldozer and sign were gone, as if they had never been.