She unpacked carefully, hanging designer dresses next to her high school track jacket. Shirts, socks and underwear went into the top dresser drawer. She pulled open the second drawer, expecting to find it empty (Cora went through a clean-and-dump phase at least twice a year), but she found it still full of sorority t-shirts and college sweatshirts. Regina dug through the pile, looking for her favorite UVA sweatshirt. She found it at the bottom of the stack, beat-up heather gray with frayed cuffs, and pulled it from the drawer. She shook it out and held it up.
It wasn't her UVA sweatshirt. It was the UVM sweatshirt she'd practically lived in her first three years of college. She balled it up, shoved it to the bottom of the pile and slammed the drawer closed. Why hadn't her mother cleaned this out yet?
"Regina," her mother called from down the hall. "Have you called Marco yet?"
"I'll do it now, Mother," she answered. She ducked her head into Mary Margaret's room, where her mother was hanging up Henry's clothes, setting aside a few shirts for ironing. Henry, meanwhile, sat on the flowered bedspread, glaring at the 'N Sync poster on the wall. He caught her eye and nodded at the poster. "It's still here."
"Mary Margaret has assured me she'll come over and clean out this room," Cora said grimly. "She lives ten minutes away, and still can't find half an hour to come over here and do it. I told her she has one month, and then everything goes in the trash."
"If you want to start with that poster, I'll help. I don't think I can sleep with Justin Timberlake staring at me like that." Henry said balefully.
"I think you'll manage," Regina replied. "Mother, where is your address book? I need to get Marco's number."
"By the phone, dear. I left a grocery list on the kitchen counter as well. Can you run out to the store for me? You can ask your father for some cash. He should be home in the next few minutes."
Regina sighed. "I can afford groceries, Mother."
"Don't be silly, dear. You need to hold onto your money. Your father will take care of it." And just like that, Regina was eight years old again, in trouble for spending her allowance on books and candy. She trudged down the stairs toward the kitchen, making a mental note to bring up a garbage bag to get rid of the unwanted items in her own room. Starting with that sweatshirt.
Her phone rang just as she reached the door to Granny's. She dug the phone out of her bag, seeing Emma's face mugging at her from the lock screen. She tapped the green icon to answer the call. "What's up?" she asked.
"I need your car. I left one of my textbooks on the kitchen counter, and Cora doesn't trust me with her car to drive 30 miles and back."
Regina sighed. "You know I asked you if you'd left anything in the kitchen, right? Twice? You remember that?"
"Maybe I left it there on purpose so that you could feel good about yourself about being right."
She laughed. "Or maybe you didn't leave anything behind and are just looking for an excuse for an afternoon booty call with Killian."
"Regina. If that were the case, I would just tell you straight out." She would, too. Emma had no filters when it came to her love life, regardless of how many times Regina had told her that sharing definitely did NOT mean caring.
"I just got to Granny's, but I'll be back after this. Do you want me to bring you back coffee?"
"You're a goddess among women. Mocha with cinnamon." Emma paused. "And hurry up. I've been here for less than two hours and your mother is already driving me crazy."
"That is but one of her many talents. I'll be home in 20." Regina tapped the end call button. She reached for the door handle, but another hand had gotten there first and pulled the door open for her. Her eyes followed the hand, over what appeared to be a nicely toned arm clad in forest green cotton, and up to a set of very blue eyes.
"Allow me," he said, gesturing to the doorway. He looked to be in his late 30s, with sandy blonde hair and a bit of a scruffy beard. He smiled down at her, and she couldn't help returning the smile. "Thank you," she replied.
She had gotten maybe ten feet inside the restaurant before Ruby shrieked and shot through the kitchen door to hug her. Regina was not the warm fuzzy hugging type, but Ruby had never let that stop her. Cursed with an unfortunate overabundance of personality, Ruby considered any member of Mary Margaret and Emma's family to be family of her own (much to Cora's horror and Regina's constant irritation). Regina patted Ruby awkwardly on the back, mentally calculating how quickly she could pull herself out of Ruby's overenthusiastic embrace.
"You're here!" Ruby shouted right into Regina's ear. "I can't wait to get the party started! Where's Emma?"
"She's back at my parents' house, waiting for me to bring her coffee so she can run home and pick up a few things." Regina stared pointedly at Granny's ancient espresso machine.
"She forgot her dress, didn't she?"
"I packed the dresses. And the shoes, and the jewelry. So, no, she'll be ready to go on Saturday. But she is waiting for me, and the longer she waits, the more time she spends with my mother, so…" Regina gestured to the counter.
As Ruby set to work on the coffee, Regina surveyed the diner. Like everything else in Storybrooke, it hadn't changed since she was a child. Same menus. Same scratched formica counter with red stools where she and Kathryn had devoured cheeseburgers after track practice. Same sickly green paint in the hallways where she and Daniel had stolen kisses, tucked away from her mother's prying eyes. The only noticeable difference was that Ruby was working the counter now instead of her grandmother.
Well, that and the man who had held the door open for her. He was definitely new. He sidled up next to her as she leaned on the countertop, tapping her fingernails absently on the counter. "I've been coming in here every day for a month, and I've never gotten such an enthusiastic response from Ruby." He had a roguish smile and charming dimples, and the English accent was icing on the cake. Regina was frankly shocked that Ruby wasn't swooning dramatically over the cash register.
She raised her eyebrows. "Maybe you should tip a little better."
"I tip very well, thank you," he said, mockingly affronted.
"Well, then. Unless you can help Ruby pass sixth grade math, I think you're out of luck."
He looked over at Ruby. "Something tells me that she's past needing a math tutor."
"You could try your charm, if you have any."
"I have ample reserves of charm, milady," he said, flashing those dimples again. "I would have hoped that it would be apparent to you by now."
So, he was flirting with her. Not what she'd expected when she'd come into the diner, but flattering all the same. Regina chuckled. "If that's your best work, it's no wonder you get lousy service."
"I shall have to try harder. Robin Locksley," he said, extending his hand to her.
"Regina Mills," she replied, taking the hand he offered with a firm grasp.
"Regina Mills? I do believe I owe you thanks instead of charm." She raised an eyebrow, and he continued. "Or perhaps in addition to the charm. I'm with the Northern Virginia Food Bank. I'm here setting up our new distribution center."
Oh, right, the food bank. They'd been looking for space in Fairfax to expand their operation, but Regina had convinced them to move further out the Beltway to take advantage of cheaper rents and better quality product. Cheaper rents meant more money going to their mission, so it had been a relatively easy sell to the NVFB. Once that lease had been signed, Regina had one more fully occupied building in her pipeline and was 20,000 square feet closer to being the top leasing agent in the region. "I trust the new space is serving you well, then."
"Oh, yes. You were quite right about this location."
"I so often am," she replied smugly. Ruby slid two cardboard cups on the counter in front of Regina, looking back and forth between Regina and Robin with what could only be called a shit-eating grin on her face. Regina fixed her with a stony glare, which was almost enough to wipe the smirk of Ruby's face.
"Soy latte?" he asked, his nose crinking with disdain. Just like a Brit to be judgmental of caffeinated beverages.
"Have you ever seen a cow being milked? Trust me, it's enough to turn you off of milk forever." She took a sip of her coffee. Rich and warm, sweet nectar of the gods. Ruby might be a pain in the ass, but she made a fine latte.
Her text alert went off, and she pulled her phone out of her jacket pocket. It was from Emma – two pictures. The first was of Cora in profile, arms crossed, a look of disapproval on her face. The second was a selfie of Emma, her fingers forming a mock gun pressed to her temple. Be right there, she texted back.
"Well, Mr. Locksley," she said, tucking her phone back into her pocket, "it was a pleasure to meet you, but I have to be going. Duty calls." She picked up the two cups and smiled gratefully at Ruby. "I'll see you this evening. Thanks for this."
"Anytime, toots. Oh, and Regina…" Ruby called as Regina headed to the door. "Just so you know, Daniel and the Wicked Bitch checked into the B&B about an hour ago."
Regina's stomach dropped, but she schooled her features into a mask of indifference. "Good to know. Thank you."
"Wicked Bitch?" Robin asked.
"It's a small town. Everyone has a nickname. Stick around long enough and you'll get one too." She waved a finger, still wrapped around her coffee, at the girl behind the counter. "Later, Ruby." She turned to nod to the man still leaning up against the counter. "Robin," she said with a smile.
"Until next time," he replied, and the way he looked at her made think that if next time came sooner rather than later, that might not be so bad.
Emma was waiting for her in the driveway, shifting impatiently from one foot to another. "Thank God," she said dramatically as Regina climbed out of the car. Regina handed over the car keys and the mocha.
"Try not to take all day," she said. "We have to be impeccably dressed and gracious at 7pm."
"I make no promises." Emma picked at the lid of her coffee, looking every inch the petulant six-year-old she'd been the first time she'd come to this house. "Did you know my jeans are too tight?"
"What?"
Emma nodded. "My jeans are too tight. Not appropriate for a woman with a ten-year-old."
Regina was utterly confused by the turn in the conversation. "But- Henry is nine."
"Yes, he is. And apparently, he's not the only one in this family who sucks at math."
Regina laughed. "Help me get the groceries out of the trunk before you take my only means of escape." Emma followed Regina to the back of the car. "And for the record, those jeans look fine on you. If they didn't, I wouldn't let you be seen with me." Regina started hauling bags from the trunk. "Ruby says hi, by the way."
"Speaking of jeans that are too tight," Emma cackled. "I'll stop by the diner on my way back."
"It was very generous of you to let Emma use your car," Cora said, but her tone told Regina quite plainly that generous wasn't the word. Stupid perhaps, but not generous.
"She has a better driving record than I do. Than you do as well, Mother."
Cora sniffed. "Emma has never had any respect for other people's things. Remember the toaster?"
Regina choked on her soy latte. "You knew about that?"
"Regina, this is my house. Of course I knew about that. I let it go because it seemed important to you that you take care of it."
"She's not six years old anymore, Mother."
"Maybe not," Cora said doubtfully, "but people don't ever change."
Regina closed her eyes. For her own sake, she hoped that her mother was wrong.