Author's Note: Once again, y'all rock. Thanks for the reviews and follows and favorites! This chapter ran away from me, and when I went to try to shorten it, I accidentally made it longer. Oops? ;)

Apparently, Snow White put a good amount of her faith in lists.

After getting together some clothes for herself and Henry, Emma went back downstairs to find her mother standing at the counter with two pieces of paper in front of her and a pen in her hand. A peek over Snow's shoulder revealed that she was in the middle of writing up a menu of sorts for their cookout later on that evening.

David stood at the fridge as she called out each item, giving her a yea if they had it on hand and a nay if they didn't. That was where the second sheet of paper came in: all the "nay" food items were going on a grocery list.

"Hot dogs are a definite," Snow said, marking them down on her menu. "I bet you Henry will want to cook those on sticks over the fire."

Emma's heart sank at the distinct lack of hamburger patties on either sheet of paper. "Whoa, what camping trip is complete without cheeseburgers? I was looking forward to a big juicy cheeseburger, maybe topped with a couple slices of bacon ..."

Her parents exchanged a look as David closed the refrigerator door. "Add hamburgers to the list," he said to his wife while giving his daughter a little wink. Then he raised his voice slightly so Henry, who had insisted on packing his own bag, could hear him from upstairs. "We should also add chocolate and marshmallows if Henry wants to make s'mores."

"I do!" Henry's thrilled little voice floated down the stairs. "Lots of s'mores!"

Emma allowed a smile at her son's excitement. No one needed to know she was looking forward to s'mores just as much as the kid was.

Snow finished off the shopping list with a flourish and stuffed it in her husband's hand. Taking that as his cue, he grabbed his keys from the kitchen counter and, with a smile at his girls, left the apartment in search of food.

To the family's good fortune, the curse had set up David Nolan's house with some basic camping gear, which he had simply shoved into one of the apartment's closets after he gathered his things from the house when the curse first broke. They had sleeping bags, a cooler, a camping grill, and a tent, at least.

David was barely out the door a minute before Snow focused on her own list once again. She glanced up at the clock, narrowing her eyes in thought. "I don't think I have the time to make potato salad, but I can whip up some pasta salad quick enough. I have an unopened bag of chips in the cabinet–"

"Um, actually, you don't," Emma sheepishly told her. "Henry and I opened it at lunch. We didn't eat much, though … just a handful for each of us."

Snow chuckled. "There should still be plenty for dinner. You know what this list is missing? Vegetables. We need some vegetables."

Ugh, no they didn't. They were planning a cookout! No vegetables allowed, unless it was a garden salad or corn on the cob. "We'll have potato chips," Emma reminded her, playfully wrinkling her nose at her mother's attempt at preparing a balanced meal.

"Oh, yes, deep fried slices of potato that have been slathered in salt and artificial flavoring," Snow scoffed just as playfully. "That's so very healthy. Plus, in some diets? Potatoes are considered a starch."

"It's one dinner. I think we can have one dinner without vegetables."

"I think so, too!" Henry called from upstairs.

Snow heaved a sigh at her two junk-food-loving family members. "I suppose I can allow us to have a nutritionally unbalanced meal, but only because tonight's special."

A little smile curled on Emma's lips but her amusement faded after a beat. Tonight was special but just about the only thing she was looking forward to was dinner. Even the promise of a cookout complete with bacon cheeseburgers and s'mores couldn't stop the dread from rising in her chest.

Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she once again looked over at Snow, who was still frowning down at her menu. "What's the matter now?"

"Nothing, really. I'm just trying to decide if we need more food."

Emma gaped at her mother. "You do know there are only four of us, right?"

Snow finally looked up, giving her daughter a smile that was equal parts embarrassment and amusement. "Yes, I am aware."

"You don't think that hamburgers, hot dogs, pasta salad, chips, and s'mores for dessert is enough for four people?"

"I see your point," Snow laughed. "So now I guess the only question remaining is … Greek pasta salad or creamy macaroni salad?"

Emma didn't even need to think it over. "Creamy, please."

Another tender smile passed between mother and daughter as Snow finally abandoned her list to fill a pot with water and put it on to boil. "Once the pasta cooks, there should be just enough time before we leave for the salad to chill in the fridge a bit. It'll chill further in the cooler, so the flavors should have blended properly by the time we're ready to eat."

She covered the pot to bring the water up to a quicker boil before heading over to the fridge for the ingredients for the dressing. Emma simply watched her in fascination. She was moving around the kitchen so expertly that Emma could almost picture her hosting her own cooking show.

Snow White's Kitchen, starting next month on the Food Network.

As Snow carried everything over to the counter, she caught her daughter's eye. "You look like you want to learn," she said gently.

Emma could only imagine she looked as startled as the proverbial deer in headlights. This was the kind of thing she'd missed out on … learning how to cook with her mother. One of her foster mothers used to let her help in the kitchen, but unfortunately, that was not at all the norm, in Emma's experience. "I'm, um, not the greatest cook the world, so, you know, keep that in mind."

"That's why you start out with appetizers or sides that are pretty hard to screw up," Snow said easily, giving her a hopeful smile. "This salad is really just mixing some mayo, vinegar, mustard, and sugar to make a dressing and then tossing it with some pasta, pepper, and onion."

"Oh, just," Emma nodded, her tone sarcastic. "I'm used to recipes with four ingredients."

"You'll be fine," Snow assured her as she handed her the measuring cups. "First things first: one cup of mayo goes into the mixing bowl."

Mother and daughter fell into a comfortable rhythm. As Snow diced a green bell pepper with more control than Emma ever could have managed, she gave Emma step-by-step instructions on how to make the dressing. Emma paused in her preparation only once to pour the pasta into the boiling water.

By the time Snow finished dicing the pepper and moved on to the onion, Emma had begun stirring the dressing ingredients together. She dipped the tines of a fork into the dressing for a quick taste test.

The flavor of the vinegar was overpowering everything else. Well, that just won't do, she thought. She reached for the sugar, added another pinch, and then tried another small taste. That one was much better.

She felt more than saw her mother's eyes on her. "The vinegar was too strong," she shrugged, fishing a macaroni elbow out of the pot. She blew on the bit of pasta and popped it into her mouth. From the amount of bite left in the elbow, she figured the pasta still needed another couple of minutes.

Snow dipped a fork into the dressing to taste it for herself. "For someone who professes not to be the greatest cook in the world, you certainly know how to balance flavor pretty well," she said, her eyebrows raised.

Emma shrugged uncomfortably. "One of my foster mothers taught me how to make cucumber salad. The recipe called for cider vinegar but we would just use whatever vinegar she had on hand and then balance it out with sugar."

A tender smile curled on Snow's lips. "Do you remember how to make it?"

"If I thought about it enough, yeah, probably. Why?"

"I'd like to learn how to make cucumber salad. That is, if you don't mind teaching me."

Emma's heart jumped at the thought of teaching her mother something. This was something else she'd missed out on – not just her mother teaching her things but the chance to return the favor. She took stock of the ingredients out on the counter: sour cream, sugar, salt, pepper, vinegar. Nodding slightly to herself, she said, "We've got everything out already except for the cucumbers and dill weed, if you have it."

The little smile on Snow's face grew wider. "Two cucumbers enough?"

"Perfect."

Snow turned to the fridge to retrieve two cucumbers from the crisper and then searched the cabinet for the bottle of dill weed. A moment later, she returned to her daughter and set the items on the counter. "Ask and you shall receive."

"Thank you." Emma opened the drawers one after another, searching until she found a vegetable peeler. "First and foremost is peeling the cucumbers. I was lazy once and left the skins on, and let me tell you, that was a mistake."

"I'll peel cucumbers if you drain the pasta," Snow said, relieving her daughter of the peeler.

"Deal."

Just as Emma wrapped a dish towel around the handles of the pot, Henry bounded down the stairs with an overstuffed backpack hooked over his right shoulder. "Whoa, hold on. You guys are cooking without me?"

"It's not exactly cooking," Emma muttered, her attention focused solely on the bulging bag on her son's shoulder. "What on earth did you pack? We're going on an overnight in the back yard."

"Nothing, really," Henry shrugged, though the fact that he was already shifting the weight of the thing on his shoulder said otherwise. "I've got the hiking clothes and pajamas you packed, and then I've got my walking sneakers and a couple of books and a little bag of marbles–"

"Marbles?" Snow interrupted, eyebrows raised.

"Uh huh. I thought we could play when dinner is cooking. And I've got a book of scary stories and–"

"Whoa, kid, slow down," Emma said, swiping a hand over her forehead. The mere act of listening to Henry's list of activities had exhausted her. When did he think they were going to have time for all of that? "We're going camping for one night."

A blush crept up on Henry's cheeks as he sheepishly met Emma's eyes. "Am I going a little overboard?"

"A little" was an understatement. Since she knew the kid was simply excited, she said, "Just a bit, yeah. How about we leave the books and the marbles here? They're making the backpack too heavy for you to carry on our hike, and depending on what time we finish up, it might be too dark to read or play marbles anyway."

Henry turned his mother's words over in his head for a long moment before ultimately deciding she had a decent point. He nodded in agreement as he let the backpack clunk to the floor. He unzipped the bag and pulled out not only his books and a mesh bag of marbles but also a worn deck of cards and a couple of hand-held video games.

Seriously? Emma thought, blinking at her son's over-preparedness. A moment later, it hit her: Henry was used to going back yard camping by himself. Of course he would have packed all kinds of things to keep himself occupied; he wasn't used to having anyone to talk to during those hours between dinner time and bedtime.

He clearly hadn't minded the solitude because that was one little boy who loved himself some back yard camping. Still, the realization tore at Emma's heart.

"Okay," Henry said, drawing Emma out of her reverie, "I'm just going to put all this away and then I want to see what you guys are making." He grasped all of the extraneous stuff he'd packed in his arms and darted back upstairs.

The positively thrilled expression on the kid's face just made Emma even more aware of the fact that she was the only one not at all excited about this trip. She had only been camping – real camping, not "survival," as Snow had said – once before, but that trip had been more than enough for an entire lifetime.

With a heavy sigh, she returned to the stove and took the pasta pot off the burner, oblivious to her mother watching her out of the corner of her eye. "You know," Snow said, her soft voice capturing her daughter's attention, "if you want to talk about it ..."

"There's nothing to talk about." She rinsed the pasta with cold water until the steam stopped rising. "Now I just toss this and the peppers and onions with the dressing, right?"

Emma did not mistake the disappointment that flickered across her mother's face. Still, Snow shook it off a split second later, giving Emma a smile. "Yes. Then cover it and stick it in the fridge so it can chill. Am I cutting the cucumbers into slices, sticks, or chunks?"

"Slices, please." Under her mother's watchful eye, Emma dumped the drained pasta into the plastic bowl with the dressing she'd made earlier.

The two women were silent as Emma coated the pasta and vegetables in dressing and Snow sliced the cucumbers. After a moment, Snow giggled lightly. Emma turned her mother, trying to figure out what was so funny. Giving up, she asked, "What is it?"

"I just realized … if we bring the cucumber salad with us, we're going to have a vegetable side with dinner after all."

Well, shit. Without even trying, her mother had gotten own her way. "Damn," Emma playfully muttered.