Thoroughly Modern Mary Margaret

This story is my take on the "Thoroughly Modern Millie" story with OUAT characters and ships with some alterations of my own along the way. In this chapter I use some of the dialogue from the Millie musical and a line from "Fiddler on the Roof" To the anonymous reviewer who wanted to know where the relationships would go with this story. Don't worry. Killian will not be Mary Margaret's love interest.

WARNINGS:: This story is rated T. This Chapter alludes to situations of drugging, non-voluntary involvement in the mail-order-bride industry, kidnapping, and an Irish Stereotype

Disclaimer: I don't own the plot or the characters

Chapter 2

Emma Swan couldn't believe it. After four long years of studying theatre she was finally going to pursue her dream of being an actress in New York City. And she was going to do it on her own merit! She wasn't going to ride on anyone's coattails. She wanted to get onstage because of her talent, and not because of who her father was or because of the fortune he bequeathed to her. She would use the money in her trust fund responsibility and frugally as her late father had taught her. She wanted the authentic experience of life in New York City.

Her Rolls Royce finally arrived at what would be her new home. A vacancy sign lit up, as if it was a lighthouse signal to guide her toward her new adventure. Her wary driver turned around, with a concerned look on his face, making him look grumpier than usual.

"Are you sure about this Miss Emma?"

She smiled at her chauffeur and friend of all 21 years of her life, "I'm perfectly certain Leroy." She began exiting the vehicle and Leroy huffed, "Miss Emma, wait!" He hurried out of the Rolls Royce just in time to prevent her from opening the trunk of the automobile.

"You really should allow me to do my job, Miss. I drive, open doors, and I transport luggage," he scolded. Emma rolled her eyes and swayed her long blonde curls over her shoulder. "You really should allow me to learn how to take care of myself," she replied as he opened the trunk and removed her 2 large pieces of matching luggage. When they reached the curb Emma asked him to set the luggage down and he did so gently, then shook his head.

"Miss Emma, it's sad enough to see you moving out on your own, but choosing to live in a rundown, shady place like Misthaven Hotel is just a bad idea. At least let me take you to the Aberdeen!"

"No Leroy. No more luxury hotels, no more other people carrying my luggage for me. I want to experience a different way of life and that includes staying at the Misthaven."

Leroy sighed. "Well, if you have any trouble..." Emma nodded.

"I'll call. I promise."

Leroy tipped his cap. "Take care, Miss Emma. And good luck." He got back inside the Rolls Royce and pulled into traffic.

Emma struggled to pick up both pieces of luggage and eventually headed for the entrance of the hotel, where there was a group of a young women exiting while chatting amongst themselves. One of them held the door open for Emma. She thanked the girl and entered the hotel.

Mary Margaret hurried down the stairs into the lobby of the Misthaven. The Hotel proprietress, Mrs. O'Grady was behind the front desk. "Ah, Mary Margaret," Mrs. O'Grady called in her Irish accent as sweet as cream, "Come here my little lamb there's something I've been meaning to ask ya."

Mary Margaret smiled knowingly as she approached the older woman. "I think I know what you're going to ask. You want to know when I'll be able to pay you for the last 2 weeks of rent and board, don't you?"

The red and gray bun on the top of old Mrs. O'Grady's head wobbled a bit back and forth as she shook her aged head with dismay, "Tis a pity to trouble you my dear, but as my beloved husband Walsh used to say, 'Rosie, ya have a heart of gold my love to take in these poor unfortunate souls, but ne'er you forget this Hotel is.."

"First and foremost a business," Mary Margaret finished for her, "Yes Mrs. O'Grady you've mentioned that to me several times."

The older woman looked ashamed and gasped, "Oh to be beggin' your pardon my dear. Please forgive an old and forgetful lady for repeatin' 'herself. My mind must be goin'. I taint as young as I used to be. Now, about the rent..."

"Way ahead of you Mrs. O'Grady. I know we said to have it today at noon. Well yesterday I had an interview for a job that met all my requirements and they said they'd call back today..."

Suddenly the concierge desk telephone rang loudly and Mrs. O'Grady reached it before Mary Margaret could. She moved impressively well for a woman her age - not that you could really tell how old the hotel owner was - somewhere between 60 and 150 guessed the residents of the Misthaven Hotel.

"Hello you've reached the Hotel Misthaven, a boardinghouse for single young ladies, how may I help you? What's that? Mary Margaret Blanchard? Job? Hmmm. Ah! Oh! I see! Oh yes, I'd be delighted to give her that message. Bye."

Mary Margaret smiled brilliantly at the old woman who turned and faced her, "So sorry dear, they didn't hire ya."

Mary Margaret was crestfallen.

Suddenly Mrs. O'Grady's mood darkened and she began ushering Mary Margaret towards the elevator at the end of the lobby. "I'll give you 10 minutes to go up to your room and pack up your belongings or you'll find them on the street!"

Just then the elevator doors opened and a group of women sauntered into the lobby calling out to Mrs. O'Grady sweetly, "Morning Rosie!"

And as sweet as cream she replied, "Good morning my dear little lambs!" The girls continued their way through the lobby, headed to the front entrance, while chatting and doing a little choreography (they were all chorus girls and aspiring actresses and Moderns to boot)

As soon as their backs were to her Mrs. O'Grady's smile dropped and she gestured to the elevator, "Go Blanchard!"

Mary Margaret crossed to stand in front of a door marked "Authorized Personnel Only"

Mary Margaret held up her palm and struggled to stall her way out of eviction with the suddenly hot-tempered hotel proprietress.

"Wait a moment Rosie."

"That's Mrs. O'Grady to you."

"The other girls called you 'Rosie.'"

Mrs. O'Grady huffed, "The other girls pay their rent on time and in full! You had 2 weeks on credit and your time has run out!"

Just then the sound of a whimper followed by a loud thump came from behind the door marked "Authorized Personnel Only" Mary Margaret swiveled her head toward the sound. "What on earth was that?" She turned and looked at the older woman.

"Uh, my cat... Mittens."

"Awful lot of noise for cat!" mused Mary Margaret as Mrs. O'Grady hurriedly grabbed the large cluster of keys hanging from a cord attached to her long skirt and with shaking hands attempted to press a large skeleton key in the lock of the door behind Mary Margaret.

"Mittens is a large cat...uh...a... Maine Coon...had her in the family for years."

Mary Margaret's brow furrowed, "That's funny, I've never seen a large cat around here before."

Mrs. O'Grady opened the door, and blocked Mary Margaret's view of the inside of the room.

"That's funny, I've never seen ya pay the rent before! And unless you come up with it, you're out on the street!" The door slammed shut in Mary Margaret's face.

"Excuse me?" came a soft feminine voice from near the concierge desk. "Is this where I check in?"

Mary Margaret turned toward the sound of the voice and saw a lovely young woman in a long pink lace dress with soft billowing blonde curls over her shoulders.

"The vultures descend before the body's even cold!" Mary Margaret thought furiously. She approached the woman who had 2 large very expensive-looking suitcases.

"Excuse me Miss?" The blonde inquired.

Mary Margaret marched over to the elegantly dressed woman then crossed her arms against her chest and responded, "Yes?"

"I'd like to inquire on the room for rent."

Mary Margaret's brow furrowed. "What were you doing? Listening at the door?!"

The blonde looked non-plussed and pointed to the lit sign above the entrance. "The sign says 'Vacancy.'"

"Well, don't believe everything you read," Mary Margaret grumbled. Then a brilliant idea occurred to her. She'd convince the blonde the Misthaven Hotel was a bad place to stay, beg Mrs. O'Grady for a few more days, and save her room! She stepped into the blonde's personal space to confide in her.

"Trust me. You don't want to stay here. The manager's mean, the rooms are hot, and the water is always cold!"

"That's...wonderful!"

The expression of exuberant delight that came across the young woman's face surprised and confused Mary Margaret.

"Huh?"

"Oh, you're right, introductions first, where are my manners? I'm Emma, Emma Swan." She shook Mary Margaret's hand with excitement.

"I'm Mary Margaret Blanchard."

"So very nice to meet you! Do you live here?" Emma asked.

"At the moment." Mary Margaret replied frowning. How could she think of trying to suppress joy like Emma's. It is a bright light beaming out of her like the sun. And clearly the woman was insane. She excitedly told the petite brunette how she'd lived a life of luxury, surrounded by servants, flunkies, and phony friends who were drawn to her wealth and as shallow as a paddling pool. Emma craved a life lived hand-to-mouth, paycheck to paycheck. She had everything Mary Margaret always thought she wanted but Emma had apparently decided to ditch the high life to struggle with the work-a-day class. This woman needed her help, Mary Margaret realized. Well a friend in need is a friend indeed.

"There's only one room available, and its mine. So, maybe we could be roommates?" Mary Margaret offered, and suddenly Emma was embracing her in the happiest hug since the hug was invented.

"Faith and begorrah, what have we here?" a familiar feminine voice asked. Mary Margaret turned in her new friend's arms and was face-to-face with Mrs. O'Grady.

Killian Jones was a man whose life was currently going nowhere. Washing, drying, and ironing linens in the basement of the Misthaven Hotel was not the future he and his older brother, Liam had hoped for. Yet, there they were; indentured servants to that old witch in the green shawl, Rosie O'Grady.

Back in their hometown of Drogheda, Ireland he and Liam had dreamed of coming to America to make a new life for themselves and their mother, Alice. But they got caught up in the debts left behind by their thieving drunken lout of father, may he rot in his grave. Their father's debts became theirs, the only inheritance Brennan Jones left his wife and sons. If they didn't cooperate their master would have no problem sending them to a debtors' prison. Their indentured servitude contracts were sold from one master to another until finally to their current captor and proprietress of this establishment. She frequently reminded them that all she had to do was fabricate a story to the police that the brothers were thieves and then they would rot in jail upstate for the rest of their miserable lives.

It wasn't the manual labor of the laundry, cleaning and general hotel maintenance that caused Killian to bristle so. He had sadly accepted that it was his lot in life. However O'Grady's more sinister business cut him deeper than any sword ever could.

His stomach sank lower at the thought of the illegal activities going on in the seemingly wholesome hotel. The only silver lining was that in just a few more months the contract of servitude would end and the brothers Jones would finally be reunited with their mother. O'Grady's reach into the criminal underworld was far, Killian had learned. On more than one occasion when he refused to do O'Grady's bidding she had threatened him; not with violence against him or his brother, but against their frail, ailing mother. If they could just hang on a little longer they would all be free. It had been more than two weeks since O'Grady had last called upon the brothers for anything more that the usual manual labor and he hoped in his heart of hearts that O'Grady's greed for once had been assuaged. They had just finished the 4th load of sheets when they heard O'Grady's horrid fake Irish accent over the intercom: "Liam! Killian! Bring a laundry bin to my office at once!"

Killian sighed and Liam hustled over to the intercom, pushing his large thumb to the respond button and reluctantly speaking into the cursed box, "Aye, Mrs. O'Grady. One laundry bin coming up."

Killian sadly shook his head as he pushed the large rolling bin toward the elevator.

"I wonder who the bride is this time." Liam mused.

"Whoever she is, brother, she's no better off than us." Killian said darkly.

Rising on the elevator took the brothers out of the heat of the basement to the lobby level where the air from outside greeted their noses. Something vaguely smelling of vanilla and cinnamon, thought Killian. As Liam took over pushing the laundry cart Killian cast a glance toward the concierge desk.

His blue eyes widened as he was spell-bound by the beautiful blonde chatting with a petite brunette in the lobby. There was a radiant light beaming out of her like the sun. And clearly the woman was an angel with her bright smile, high cheekbones, and billowing long blonde curls. He caught her name in the air, "Emma Swan" It was a beautiful name for an angel. Suddenly he was literally shaken out of his reverie by his brother's massive hand on his shoulder. Then in a hushed whisper Liam said, "Come on now little brother. We have a job to do."

Liam knocked gently 5 times on the door marked "Authorized Personnel Only" and some rustling could be heard from the other side of the door. Killian whispered, "Younger brother, Liam. I'm twenty-one years old and not little."

The door open by the impatient Mrs. O'Grady and they pushed the bin inside the office. O'Grady shut the door behind them.

On the floor lay a young brunette woman in a blue gingham dress with her eyes closed. Her hair was in two long braids. She was tied up and a gag was tied around her mouth slightly muffling her snoring.

"Hurry and get her in the bin!" O'Grady's false Irish accent was replaced by her natural Cambridge, England accent. Killian and Liam looked at the girl and then at each other in befuddlement. "Well, get on with it." O'Grady snapped.

Killian couldn't help but ask, "Why is she dressed like that?" He had seen this resident of the hotel before, but never with braids and in a country frock. O'Grady stalked toward him, "Because, my potato-headed minion, a client is willing to pay a lot of green for a sweet innocent Kansas girl. When this one received a telegram today saying that her last living relation was killed by a taxi in Chicago, inspiration struck! So I offered her an Irish wake with some doctored whiskey. Once she was unconscious I changed her into this dress, braided her hair and voila, instant Kansas girl. The mail-order bride business is all about supply and demand. The bigger the demand the bigger the payout. Unfortunately the first dose of Irish Rose I gave her didn't completely do the job and she tried to get up. One of the other residents overheard the noise and now thinks I have a giant cat in here. Don't ask. Just get her in the bin and out of my hotel out the back. There's a truck waiting to take her over the rainbow to a lonely old git. Do it quickly before the residents come back."

Killian piped up, "But, Mrs. O'Grady, there are 2 women in the lobby. They may have seen us coming in here. I don't think we'll get away without them hearing her snoring ."

"Two women?"

Liam chimed in, "Aye, a lass in a blue dress with short dark hair and a blonde in a pink dress with fancy suitcases."

O'Grady's brow furrowed.

"Hmmm. Sounds like Blanchard and a new victim...I mean guest.

I'll distract them while you take the bride-to-be out the back door."

Mrs. O'Grady opened her office door and surreptitiously crossed the lobby while Liam and Killian begrudgingly guided the snoring laundry bin out the back of the hotel. O'Grady found the 2 younger women locked in an embrace and said loudly in her false Irish accent right next to them, "Faith and begorrah, what have we here?"

Mary Margaret turned in her new friend's arms and was face-to-face with Mrs. O'Grady, who blocked her view of the exiting laundry bin.

Mary Margaret extricated herself from Emma's embrace.

"Now hold on Mrs. O'Grady, before you bite my head off..."

Mrs. O'Grady tutted and spoke so sweetly, yet peculiarly loudly.

"Oh Mary Margaret, my little lamb, you know that I never bite! At my age I hardly have any teeth! But who is your friend?" Mrs. O'Grady glances over Emma's elegant attire.

"This is Emma Swan. Emma, this is..." Mrs. O'Grady pressed into Emma's side forcefully taking the young lady's arm into the crux of her own "Rosie O'Grady, owner of the Misthaven Hotel. Tell me dear are you an actress?"

Emma's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

Mrs. O'Grady smiled broadly. "I have a clear eye for talent, lass."

Mrs. O'Grady guided Emma to the concierge desk as if they were the oldest of chums and Mary Margaret felt obliged to follow after them. "How can I help you my dear Miss Swan?"

"Oh, please Mrs. O'Grady just 'Emma' is fine. I came to inquire after the room to rent and Mary Margaret was kind enough to share her's with me so if you could just tell me how much the deposit is..." Emma opened her purse and took out a sizable stack of bills which Mrs. O'Grady was quick to relieve her of as she retreated behind the desk. "There's need to double up Mary Margaret. I'll float you another week. And you Emma must have a room of your own! As luck would have it a nice sunny room just became available right next to Mary Margaret."

The petite brunette quirked an eyebrow. "You mean twelve-oh-eight?" Mrs. O'Grady nodded. Mary Margaret's brow furrowed. "But that's Dorothy Gale's room."

Mrs. O'Grady took out the resident registration and opened it to the current day's page. "Dorothy Gale just checked out." Mary Margaret scrutinized the register.

"That's odd, she'd only checked in just two days ago."

Mrs. O'Grady pulled the registry from Mary Margaret's hands and placed it on the counter in front of Emma. "Ah! The poor little lamb! Her Aunt Emily just passed away. Dorothy went home to grieve with her family."

Mary Margaret shook her head, "But Dorothy didn't have any other family, just a brindle Cairn terrier named Toto."

Mrs. O'Grady's tone grew impatient. "Well Mary Margaret all God's creatures need to grieve, even little dogs too!" And with a flourish the old woman handed Emma a ink pen to sign the registration. As Emma completed the registration Mrs. O'Grady took out a letter. "Oh I almost forgot a letter arrived for you today Mary Margaret." She gave the letter to the younger woman who opened it quickly. "It's from my mother."

"It's so nice to hear from your mum. I suppose you'll be receiving a letter from your mother soon, eh Emma?"

Emma's brow furrowed and she tried to focus on the registration, "Uh...no. She died when I was little."

"Oh such a shame!" Mrs O'Grady exclaimed. "But perhaps you'll hear from your father?"

Emma looked up sadly from the registration and signed. "My father passed away last year."

Mrs. O'Grady eyes widened. "No sisters? Brothers? No relations to speak of?"

Emma swallowed hard and looked uneasy. "None to speak of."

"Ah! How sad to be all alone in the world!" exclaimed Mrs. O'Grady. "Here's your key dear. Mary Margaret can show you the way to your room. Your belongings will be delivered by staff. Can I make you something dear? The kitchen is closed but can I bring you a warm beverage to soothe your nerves?"

"Well, my Nana used to make hot cocoa with cinnamon for me when I was a girl. If it's not a bother."

"Not a bother at all Emma. I have a special recipe for that. I'll make it for ya and bring it to your room myself." With that the old woman toddled off toward the kitchen.

The two young women crossed the lobby to the elevator and once they were out of Mrs. O'Grady's earshot Mary Margaret scoffed,

"Wow! O'Grady has taken a real shine to you, Emma. I don't think that woman has ever offered me even a cup of hot water for making plain macaroni! You've made quite the first impression!" She pressed the call button for the elevator.

Emma sighed sadly , "Or rather my money has. My father used to say 'Courtesy is a side-effect of currency.'"

Mary Margaret giggled. "You make wealth sound like some type of medicine."

"Actually an over abundance of wealth is more like a disease." Emma stated sardonically.

Mary Margaret comically clasped and raised her hands toward the ceiling. "Then may God smite me with it and may I never recover!" That earned a genuine laugh from Emma. The elevator doors finally opened and the two women entered.

"That was really melodramatic, Mary Margaret. Are you an actress?"

"No. I'm a stenographer, but I'm having a hard time finding the right boss... I mean the right job." She didn't want to reveal her plan to find and marry a rich man to her new friend since Emma had such an apparent aversion to wealth.

"I was first in my typing school back home and my teachers all said they'd never seen anyone faster at shorthand dictation. But for some reason I keep hitting dead ends in the clerical pools."

"Have you applied to Sincere Trust?" Emma asked. The elevator doors opened and the women walked down the hallway toward rooms 1206 and 1208.

"I don't think so. What's Sincere Trust?" Mary Margaret asked.

"An insurance company on the upper east side. According to a socialite friend of mine, it's one of the fastest growing companies in the country," Emma replied.

"Huh. I'll have to check it out."

Emma reached into her purse and took out what looked like a small news paper, "My friend is quoted here in this tabloid that is full of all the movers and shakers in New York. It makes for sensational reading."

She handed the paper to Mary Margaret whose eyes fell on an article about the city's wealthiest young bachelors.

"Quite sensational!" exclaimed the petite brunette

"Keep it! I have a subscription."

"Thank you, Emma. You are just a fountain of knowledge."

The blonde woman rolled her eyes. "I try. But maybe this way we can help one another. I can give you the hottest socialite gossip and you can give me better insight on being poor."

"Whoa. I'm not poor. I'm broke." Mary Margaret stated bluntly

Emma raised an eyebrow. "Is there a difference?" Mary Margaret nodded solemnly. "Poor is permanent. Broke can be fixed. So, what can I help you with?"

Emma replied, "Well there's something you said earlier of which I'm just dying of curiosity."

Oh dear. Did Emma pick up on Mary Margaret's scheme to wed a well-to-do business man? Was their friendship doomed before it really began? Mary Margaret took a deep breath and quietly asked, "What would you like to know?"

"What is macaroni?"

Mary Margaret smiled brightly and scoffed, "It's a foodstuff we broke people are very well acquainted with." She opened the door to her room and invited her new friend inside. Emma smiled, "It sounds wonderful!"

Mary Margaret giggled, "If you think that's special, just wait until you've tried a grilled cheese sandwich!"