It was late Friday afternoon and outside, the sun was setting down over Storybrooke as everyone went home to start their weekend with their families. Sat in the back room of his shop, Rumald brought his glass to lips and sipped the twenty-five-year-old whiskey from the tumbler. He set it down onto his workbench and leant over the bench, eyeing the inner workings of a mantle clock he had in pieces on the bench. Carefully, Rumald worked one of the gears from its position, edging it up and off of its shaft to pick it up with tweezers. He eyed it to make sure the teeth were intact and undamaged, and then placed the gear on the cloth he had spread out onto the workbench.
Rumald inspected the next gear in the mechanism as he sipped some more of his whiskey. The thought of going home was far from his mind. Passing up the chance to get some work done without being interrupted was hard. Sometimes he wondered why someone as introverted as himself, involved himself in so much of the town. To the majority of the town, he was their landlord and the plague of their existence, as he wanted all of his rent money and on time, every time he came to collect it. So, of course, being their landlord brought with it all of their complaints. 'The heating doesn't work', 'I have no hot water', 'I've locked myself out of my house', were the most common complaints they had for him. The only thing no one complained about was how quick he got things rectified. Granted, that was mostly for his own sanity, so he did not have to deal with them until the next time the rent was due.
With also being the town's pawnbroker, Rumald had dealings with everyone in town, who was hard up on cash and needed a quick reprieval. Funnily enough, a lot of his tenants tended to grace his shop near the end of the month, looking to trade an item with him for some cash. When he would collect from certain tenants at the end of the month, he knew he would be paid with the money he had given them days before. A vicious circle, which none of them seemed able to break themselves from.
Knocking back his glass, Rumald finished off the remains of his whiskey and returned his glass to the workbench. He slipped the edge of his screwdriver under the gear and with a precise amount of tension, unclipped the gear from its position on the shaft and picked it up with the tweezers to place beside the other gear. As he sought the next piece of the puzzle in the mechanism, the bell above the front door of his shop rung, signalling someone had entered the shop. Rumald groaned at the sound, inwardly cursing himself for not dead bolting the door earlier.
"Gold," Her voice carried easily through the shop. "Are you here?"
"If I say no, will you go away?" He asked, really wishing he had bolted the door earlier.
The curtain dividing the front and the rear of the shop moved aside and Regina stepped through, smiling at him as she approached the workbench, saying. "I was hoping to find you before you went home."
"Well, you've found me, dearie." Rumald waved his hand airily, his attention on the clock in front of him. "Please let the door hit you on your way out."
"I need to call in the favour you owe me." Regina told him, angling herself over the workbench to eye the mantle clock in front of him.
Setting down the tweezers and screwdriver, Rumald finally lifted his gaze to look at Regina. "And what is it you require? Power? Money?" He paused to crook one side of his lips into a smile. "A baby?"
"What would I want with a baby?" She asked slightly mortified before shaking her head at him to say. "No, I just need your time."
"My time?" He inquired standing up from his stool as he collected his glass from the workbench.
As she explained, Rumald went to the cabinet at the back of the room and opened the small hatch in the middle of the cabinet, retrieving a decanter of whiskey to refill his glass. "One of my students has fallen ill and won't be able to attend a competition in Europe. Her partner needs a partner and, course, I know their routine."
"How does this involve me, dearie?" Rumald scrunched his brow at his own question, already having a feeling as to what she wanted her favour to be, and retook his seat on his stool by the workbench.
"I just need you to cover my classes in the evenings, for the next couple of weeks." She beamed a smile at him, reminding him so much of her mother.
Once that smile would have been enough for him. Rumald used to quite happily forget about the world just to see that smile from her mother. He had not seen her for at least twelve years and he hoped it lasted till the day he died. Cora had broken his heart, crushed it to dust in front of him. So the thought of seeing her, talking to her, sent an unpleasant shiver down his spine, much like the one that ran down his back seeing Regina smile at him.
"Couple of weeks?" Rumald questioned, his frown deepening at her. "You said a competition. As in one. That doesn't take weeks."
Regina shrugged a single shoulder at him. "I'm going to make the most of it and have a vacation in Europe at the same time."
"Really, dearie?" His voice conveyed his annoyance.
"Hey, I haven't had a vacation since I opened the dance studio." She defended herself. "I've been putting all of my time into the dance studio and it's finally paying off. We're fully booked every week. And I have new students starting all the time."
"Congratulations, dearie." He forced a smile for her, though Rumald was very proud of her.
When she had come to him asking for a loan, so she could buy the building from him, Rumald had known she would make it. Regina had paid him in full by the end of her second year in business and had only soared from there. He had no expectations that she would fail. If she had, then it would have been his own fault since he had taught her everything she knew – business and dance.
Regina raised a sceptic eyebrow at him. "You could be genuinely pleased for me."
"I am, I am." Rumald picked up his glass from the workbench and drank from it.
"You don't sound like it." She said with a small amount of hurt evident in her voice.
Rumald gave her a genuine smile. "You should know better than to take things from me at face value."
Her lips twisted in thought as Regina gave him a look, trying to decipher the truth from him. Rumald met her gaze easily, allowing her all the time in the world to see he was being honest. It was hard for him sometimes to look at her, not only because she reminded him of her mother, but because she was a prominent reminder he was getting older.
He had known Regina since she was eight years old. She had played with his son, Neal, when the two had been hanging around the dance studio, waiting for their parents to finish practising. Granted, a lot of their practise sessions had been behind a locked door, hiding the fact, they were stealing an intimate moment. Secretly having an affair behind Cora's husband's back. If he had been anything of the man he had been, when he had been married, he would have ended the affair before it had even got a chance to begin. Dance had led him into her arms and loneliness had driven him into her embrace.
"Anyway, my staff can cover the day classes, I just need you to cover my evening classes." She reiterated her previous statement, bringing Rumald out of his memories.
"How many classes?" He queried, not really liking the idea of teaching again.
Since the day Cora had broken his heart, he had sworn he would never have a dance partner again or teach another dance class. Although, Rumald had given into Regina, when she had begged him to teach her after the vicious clash she had had with her mother.
A small knowing smile spread Regina lips. "Monday and Friday, I have a general dance class. Tuesday and Thursday, I have a private session with a couple, who are learning to dance for their wedding."
"Oh, great." Rumald grumbled picking up his whiskey to swig from it. "Love birds."
"They're already paid in full for their classes. She wants them to learn all the basics, so they don't look stupid for their first dance." Regina informed him and then chuckled. "That's what they all say."
Rolling his eyes, he tossed back the rest of his whiskey and said. "No doubt, it's her idea. Some stupid notion of romance."
Regina chuckled, while she reprimanded him. "Don't be so negative. Love sells."
"Love is weapon." Rumald grumbled placing his glass onto the workbench.
Edging round the workbench to stand beside him, Regina placed her hand on Rumald's shoulder. "You know, you're better off without her."
He refused to acknowledge what she had said. If he did, it would open him up to thinking about his feelings, he had long ago managed to bury them deep down inside of himself. All love had ever given him was pain. First time was when his father had abandoned him. The second time was when his wife, Milah, had left him for another dancer. And, of course, the third time had been Cora, using him to further her reputation and win many competitions together. Then, when she no longer needed him and had the opportunity to get a new partner, she had dropped him without a second thought.
Picking up his tweezers and screwdriver, Rumald hunched himself over his workbench, saying. "Okay, dearie, I'll teach your pathetic classes for you."
"I knew I could count on you." She cheered leaning into him to kiss his cheek and said, moving away to the curtained doorway. "If you need anything, the girls at the dance studio will be happy to help you."
Wildly waving his hand at her, Rumald urged her to quickly leave him in peace and quiet, so he could return to dismantling the mantle clock on his workbench. She shook her head at him, but thankfully, left him to disappear behind the curtain. After a few moments, the bell above the shop door rung, signalling the door had opened, and then jangled when the door was closed behind her. Dropping his tools, Rumald quickly followed her path to the front of the shop and slid the dead bolts across the top and bottom of the door. He turned over the sign on the door to 'closed' and lingered at the door, looking through the glass to see Regina strolling across the street. Reaching up, Rumald hooked his finger into the ring on end of the string attached to the blind, and drew it down to block the view of outside.