Anna used her shoulder to knock on the back door of the diner, two boxes balanced precariously on her folded knee and cradled in her arms. Hearing nothing other than a little bit of island music – a standard of one of the short order cooks – she tried again, throwing her slender frame against the door this time.

"You couldn't have set them down?" Ruby asked when she opened the door and almost sent the woman falling inside. "Seriously?"

"I was trying to hurry," Anna explained, lunging forward so that the dark haired waitress would take at least one of the packages. "Granny doesn't want people to know."

"They are pies not drugs. No need for the cloak and dagger act." Ruby was well aware that her grandmother had been cutting back lately on the actual work of the diner. While most people her age were retired, Granny split her time between the profitable bed and breakfast and even more profitable diner. However, after decades of 12-14 hour days, she was starting to admit she wanted a bit of a break. So she had started bringing in sources for some of the staples. A local meat and seafood purveyor had been packaging easy to prepare main entrees for her. And the bakery that Anna had been running was starting to provide the sweets and pastries for the diner. That evening she had boxes of packaged pies that would look as though Granny and her staff had spent hours rolling out dough and dicing fruit to mix into compote for the filling.

"You want to get caught?"

"Come in. Good Lord. Don't make a scene." Ruby waved her in and past the makeshift desk she had created in the back corner of the store room where she would work on her designs during the downtime. Fabric was draped over a few of the chairs and sketches were taped and stapled to the walls.

"Oooh! I love this!" Anna squealed as she dropped the box and ran to touch the white fabric. "Who is this for?"

"Mary Margaret," Ruby said as she lifted it so that the younger woman could get a better look. "It's probably a bit premature, but I have totally been imagining her in this dress. I just had to make it." The lacey overlay drifted between her fingers. "If she hates it, I'll try to sell it or something."

"You totally should," Anna said, her voice of awe. "I can't imagine anyone not wanting this. Heck, Kristoff and I've only been together a few weeks and marriage isn't even on our minds, but I'm thinking of asking you to make something like this for me. Would you? I mean if I paid you. I wouldn't want you to do it for nothing. I mean it wouldn't be for nothing. It would be for me. I'm not nothing. I wouldn't want you to not get paid for it. I couldn't pay much though. I guess that means you won't. I'm sorry for asking."

"Whoa," Ruby said, placing a free hand on her temple as though trying to absorb Anna's request. "We can talk about designing you a dress. I'll do it for the cost of materials okay?"

Anna didn't answer, throwing her arms around the taller woman and hanging on tightly as she thanked her with the world's tightest hug.

***AAA***

"I don't know if I have time to do baseball too," Henry said when his mom entered the diner – the pick up location she and Neal had settled on before. "I mean with band, and my friends, and school…It's a lot."

Neal sat across from the younger version of himself, his elbows on the table and a coffee mug cradled in his hands. On the table was a new glove and ball, clearly a present for some good deed that Emma wasn't aware of and perhaps even a bribe. The man's face was pinched with what she had dubbed his parental concern expression as he explained that it would be good exercise and much more fun than his other activities.

"But I like band. I like music." Henry wasn't exactly on panic mode, but he was nearing the level when Neal lifted and lowered his shoulders as if the discussion needed to continue with some thought. "I'm good at it."

"No doubt, but maybe it's the extra attention you're getting from your teacher that you like." Neal regretted that statement the moment it left his lips. Clearing his throat, the man looked upward for some sort of guidance. "I just mean that you've been getting some one on one attention."

Henry mumbled through an answer about extra practices and his upcoming audition. However, the joy was clearly missing when his father again suggested baseball as an alternative activity.

Spotting his mother, Henry waved voraciously as she crossed over to him and pecked his cheek softly. "Hey kid," she said, ignoring the clearly contentious discussion about his after school activities. "I picked up some stuff Ruby wanted in Jersey. Mind taking it to her?" The plastic bag of materials and accessories dangled from her fingers waiting on his grasp. He took it and scampered off to the door behind the counter that was only for employees, a secret joy in his eyes that he was allowed back there.

"I thought we agreed we'd discuss these activities before dangling them in front of Henry," Emma stated, lifting and dropping the pristine baseball as she slid into the booth. "He's old enough to know what he wants to do with his time. And for now band seems to be it."

"I," Neal said, leaning more toward her with the cup still in his hands, "was good at baseball. I had four colleges recruiting me during my junior year and a minor league scout calling my senior. Henry could be that good."

She pursed her lips, wanting to remind him that he had run away from home after a fight with his father and squandered those opportunities when he didn't graduate on time. However, she was trying to not bring up a past that neither of them wanted to remember. "Henry's choice."

"There is nothing wrong with trying to give him all the information before he makes his decision. And don't give me that crap about it being his decision to stick with music. It doesn't take a shrink to see that he does that to win your approval. You're in the music industry and he wants your attention."

She glanced at the door to the kitchen to make sure that Henry was not back yet before she took a deep breath and launched into him. "Henry is capable of making a decision about how and where he spends his free time. He has chosen band for this year. Maybe he'll change that next year. Maybe not. But his decision is based on his desire and talent and not issues with his parents."

"Ems," Neal said warningly, his tone weakening some. "I just don't think…"

"No, you don't think. And by the way, your little visit to Henry's teacher was uncalled for. We decided that Henry could go on the retreat. He's worked hard and deserves that little bit of a break where he doesn't have to decide which parent to spend time with and what he can and can't say without offending the other one. You should be glad since you keep cancelling plans to spend time with Tamara."

"And you with this Mr. Jones?"

"Hardly the same thing and I don't cancel plans on my son," she said defiantly. "What is going on in my private life is just that."

"And if I don't want him around my son?" Neal challenged, physically moving back when she growled out her response at that question.

"You need to watch your own life before jumping in to judge mine."

***AAA***

Eyes half closed and her feet swinging off the bar stool in the townhome's kitchen, Elsa smiled blissfully as he played the song. Though it was new to her and she had never before heard the words, she hummed along with him, giving the occasional approving nod to a string or lyric. When Liam stopped the song, a bit abruptly since it was still a work in progress, and looked at her expectantly, her smile grew with pride.

"That's incredible," she said, clapping her hands together like a child. "I love it."

"You don't think it could use…" He was clearly critical and self-conscious about sharing his work. He'd sung on stages before and played his own work for small to medium sized crowds at some of the best clubs in Europe, but it was not as nerve wracking as sharing it with Elsa. Her approval was important to him, but even more stifling was the feeling that she could crush him with her displeasure for his work.

"It's perfect," she declared easily. "I can't believe you haven't played that for me before. It's amazing."

His blue eyes darted down to the counter. "I just wrote it. Last night actually."

"You wrote that in a single night," Elsa said incredulously. "You must be exhausted. We talked until nearly two about that guitarist. It's…I can't believe you did that so fast."

Pulling the strap of the guitar over his head and setting the wooden instrument aside, he reached out to take her hand in his. "I was more than a bit inspired by you, love. It doesn't take much for you to drag the music right out of me."

The pink on Elsa's cheeks matched the soft blue of her top perfectly as she darted her eyes downward. "You and the flattery," she said, cutting off a bit of the uncomfortable tension she felt at anything resembling a compliment. Her downward cast eyes did pick up on the yawn he tried to stifle. "You should get some sleep. You and Emma had a really long drive. Can I ask why you didn't fly?"

Looking almost embarrassed by the question, he paid more attention to the guitar that he was leaning against the table than the woman asking it. "I'm not a big fan of airplanes. Emma respected that and offered to drive us."

"I didn't think you were frightened of anything." She shifted a bit on her seat and looked at him. He was, in her eyes, a brave hero who had done tours of duty in the Middle East. He seemed to be bigger than life sometimes.

"We all have fears, love."

***AAA***

Regina was the co-owner of a music studio, not a restaurant. But when Emma arrived that next morning for her weekly update session with the two sisters, she was a bit confused by all the food laid out on two table cloth covered folding tables. There were piles of perfectly cut vegetables that appeared to be out of a culinary school knife exam. Puff pastries filled with jams and jellies, sliced meats, various sweet and pungent cheeses, crackers with hard meats and spreadable dips, and even bottles of freshly chilled win sat in perfect harmony. Between the two tables was Regina's expansive desk with the woman working away as if her office did not smell of Julia Child's test kitchen.

"Did I miss something?" Emma asked, her mouth watering even though she had gotten up early and shared hot chocolates with Killian in her car before his staff meeting that morning. "Is it someone's birthday? Retirement?"

"My sister is testing caterers for her soiree. These are samples that she wants everyone to try and give her feedback on so that she can select one."

Standing on her tiptoes as though it would offer her a better view of the spread, Emma inspected the choices and lifted a buttery croissant to her lips. She paused momentarily to ask silent permission of her supervisor. Regina's eye roll told her that she would not be blamed for trying the item.

"Oh my God, it's still warm," Emma said, closing her eyes as the soft bread practically melted in her mouth. "Don't tell Granny, but I may have just fallen in love with this place."

"You are comparing a four star chef with that grease pit? Miss Swan, I am beginning to doubt your legitimacy and taste level. There is no comparing Kobe beef with frozen lasagna."

"Good thing I'm in music and not food," Emma proclaimed, staking out her normal seat on the unnaturally uncomfortable chair across from Regina. It was as if it was supposed to hug curves that weren't quite human, leaving Regina's guests at a disadvantage since they were so uncomfortable. "You wanted to talk about the backers' dinner, right?"

"Yes, I was wanting to confirm the performers. I'm assuming you're wanting to highlight those two sisters…Anna and Ella?"

"Elsa," Emma corrected reflexively. Regina often did that, disorienting people or at least distracting them by calling the wrong name. It was such second hat to Emma that she found herself correcting her boss even if there was no mistake. "Yes, I sent you some samples of what we've recorded. I'm really liking it."

"Yes, there is something usable there." That was high praise from the usually critical woman. "Let's pencil them in here. I am guessing we still don't have a back up band for them. I'm not exactly thinking two long haired women with guitars is what our backers want to see."

"I've been considering a few options, but at the very least they can sing with backing tracks."

Regina shuddered. "I think not. Have you not paid attention to the scandals of the past 30 years? We don't do backing tracks. Everything is live. Nothing fake or redubbed. Acoustic is fine for a set or two to show versatility and raw talent, but these people we're bringing in have deep pockets. They want show stopping and amazing – a step below arenas, but you know what works."

"The beauty of them is that they don't need the over production and gimmicks. I particularly like their simplicity. It's about the lyrics and emotions."

Regina's nose wrinkled. "I'm sure it is, but simplicity doesn't do that well on tour. They are beautiful girls, but guys don't buy tickets to see beautiful women sing. We need them to be relatable with teenage and young women. That means that those girls need to have a guy in the band they are crushing on or a dancer to watch. They need…"

"I'm not packaging them like that. It's not worth it. Their music will sell, Regina." Emma literally put her foot down on the hard flooring, her boot heel echoing off the walls. "I wanted to talk to you about Liam."

The debate over whether to continue discussions on the two women was clear on Regina's face until she allowed confusion to take over it. "Wait! Who the hell is Liam?"

Sighing, Emma waited a beat for the clarity to sink inside her boss. When it didn't, Emma pulled out the phone she carried and played a rough recording of Liam singing along with the guitarist from the night before. "He wrote that song that you like for Elsa and Anna. I told you that he's got some performing chops and I want to see if maybe I could get him and his group to perform at the showcase. Not a full set, but maybe a song or two. I think that some of the investors might like them." She was taking a risk there, as she hadn't even approached Liam about being ready in time. However, this was an opportunity that could push the group into the spotlight if they could throw something together in time. It would mean that producers and investors could see them and possibly want to work with them.

"So you are telling me that the talent you've lined up is a band that as of yesterday didn't have all its members and a sister duo that don't have any stage presence or experience. Miss Swan, I don't know if you realize that this is an actual company that needs to make money. It's not a kiddie talent show. Next thing you tell me, you'll want your son do a solo on his clarinet."

"Trumpet and no, I'm not pushing for that. I just thought that the purpose here was to introduce some new possibilities to these men and women. This is our chance to show how we are different and can really make a mark on the recording industry. We don't have to be cookie cutter."

Zelena chose that moment to walk in on the stand off as it were. Her smile unnaturally large and insincere, she swooped by the tables and proclaimed them pedestrian. "Honestly, Regina, I don't understand how you can think that people won't judge us on the food. It has to be perfect."

"Don't you have better things to do than worry about rhubarb and prosciutto? Honestly, Zelena, just pick a freaking caterer. If Emma will do her job then the write ups in the blogs and newspapers will be about the music not the barely warm shooters of butternut squash and pancetta soup."

Zelena was a full head taller than her petite sister with lighter coloring. Despite the delicate features of Regina, she always seemed more fragile than the demanding and determined younger sister she clearly still competed with on a daily basis. Most people ran for the door when the two really went at each other, criticizing their different fathers and commenting on which one was better loved by their clearly narcissistic mother. One of their better arguments had included the ways they each thought the other was like their mother – a fight Emma had heard from the shelter of her own office.

"And the only thing that will keep those brain dead and talentless deep pockets in their seats is the food. The music this place produces is not exactly earth shattering. They can get similar acts anywhere."

Emma tried to keep the smirk off her face that Zelena was proving her point of the cookie cutter argument. However, she knew that in a few seconds the older sister would turn on her too and leave her sputtering.

***AAA***

Henry's practice ran a bit late that afternoon and Emma was more than happy to sit and wait on him to try a particularly difficult few bars more than once until Killian was pleased with the progress. She had warned him that she did not wish to publicize anything regarding their date or intentions to anyone. However, she had to admit that the looks he gave her over Henry's head and the way that his smile grew a bit wider when she had slid in the partially closed door was a dead giveaway. She might have admonished him for his lack of circumspection had she not found her own smile reflected back at her with the same unabashed amusement.

"Be right back!" Henry called out as he dashed for his last locker run of the day.

"No offense to his father, but I much prefer your company," Killian said, risking a quick peck to her lips with his arms wrapped loosely around her. "You are so much more pleasant of a conversationalist."

"I thought we were going for discrete here," she said, not bothering to take a step back or remove her hands from his chest. "You are terrible at this."

"Awful," he agreed, leaning in again for a kiss that she would not allow him to land. He wound up chasing her lips with his own, laughing as she actually broke their embrace and ducked under his arm to step away. "Oh you were serious. Should I invest in a toupee and fake moustache, darling? Or perhaps some oversized sunglasses and a fedora? We could have code names."

Closing her eyes, she shook her head. "No, toupee, I like your hair. And I thought you didn't want to risk giving Mr. Gold ammunition to cost you your job." Her black skirt and green sweater were already in perfect position, but she used that moment to pull at them until she felt in control. "So this Friday?"

"Ahh, yes, I suppose we should talk about your chaperone duties. I'm pleased to say we'll be spending the night together before our first official date, love. It is quite scandalous, don't you think."

"Us and 20 or so pre-teen middle schoolers, two other parents, and one of the students being my son. I'm not thinking romance here, buddy." She didn't mention that she had been feeling a bit like someone her son's age lately with the late night phone calls, random texting, and the sneaky ways she was getting to know some of the intricacies of Killian by asking Liam during their little excursion. Twice she had reminded herself that she was an adult and that was since their little rendezvous with the hot chocolate that he had grinned so proudly about that she had giggled without restraint.

"I hope you won't find me any less attractive when I'm doing head counts and threatening detention." His eyebrows waggled playfully as she tossed her head back with another laugh.

"Tell me," she said, running her index finger up his arm almost suggestively. "Does this teacher side of you come with a clipboard and a whistle around your neck, Mr. Jones?" The move was met with his eyes darkening slightly and his miniscule step toward her.

"If that would please you, then I would, but they are not part of my normal attire, love."

Feigning disappointment, she backed away from him and tossed her black and white leather bag over her shoulder. After her meeting with Regina and Zelena, she was back to scouring their label for acts for the showcase. Their top talent was currently on tour and most of the other groups were not quite ready for the stage yet. Killian noted the heft of it with her awkward lift and frowned when he asked about it.

"Looking for the needle in the haystack," she told him. "You couldn't maybe light a fire under your brother, could you? I'd put them on for a song or two if they were ready."

Killian busied himself picking up a bit of the sheet music that always seemed to end up trampled on the ground after his last class. Precisely and delicately he sorted it and straightened the shelf. "Didn't you two just find that guitarist? I doubt they are ready yet."

"Well, he did pick up on the music rather quickly. It's a matter of the vocalist." She paused. "Any way I could convince you to do it? Just one night. It would mean a lot to your brother and to me."

"That's a rather large favor," he said, still training his eyes and hand on the shelf in front of him. "I'm afraid I'm out of practice and my skills in that area are grossly overrated."

There was a painful finality to his words that she didn't miss even to argue with him that she had heard him sing. "I think you've got more than just skills in that area," she told him sincerely. "When you sang with me it was great."

"Perhaps it was your own voice that moved you. Besides it is much easier to sing along with the radio than it is to perform on your own." He still had not looked up, his once relaxed posture now bowed and tense. "Emma, I don't think this is a good idea for us to hang our hats on at the moment."

Killian jerked his arm back as she touched just beside his elbow. "Killian, I know music. I know that you could…"

"You may know music, Emma, but I'm not interested in that life. That's my brother, not me."

"But you could be great…"

"This is what I want to be great at," he said, gesturing around the classroom. "I have chosen my path and it isn't forming a band and pretending that I never grew up. That's not what I want. I guess that makes me a disappointment to you and my brother, but I won't pretend to be anything that I'm not."

"I should get Henry home. He's got homework and I've got a ton to do." She shifted slightly, sighing gratefully when her son ran back into the room. The awkward look on Killian's face was enough to make her feel guilty. Clearly he was uncomfortable with the idea of performing with or without his brother. She was not supposed to make him feel worse about it.

***AAA***

David propped step ladder up just the way he always did and gave it a little shake to prove its stability. "Why do you store stuff up there if you can't reach it?" he asked Emma, his tone perplexed. "It's not like this apartment doesn't have storage places."

"I only store the things I rarely use there," she protested. "But don't I always thank you for coming over to help me out?"

Feet on the second highest rung, David peered into the cabinet over the refrigerator and frowned. "You're sure it is up here? Because I'm not seeing it."

Emma stood in the doorway, her arm bracing herself against the wall. "I think so," she said, sounding guilty as she considered other possible locations. "That's the last place I remember seeing it. At least…"

David shut the cabinet door and climbed back down, wiping his hands on his jeans. "So you're wanting to bake. That's not a good sign, even if you are friends with Mary Margaret. You only baked when you're freaked out about something or swallowing your feelings." He knew her too well, having been there for her long before she even recognized some of those habits herself. More like a big brother than anything, she had found herself bending his ear as much as Mary Margaret's about things. "Did Neal do something?"

"You know that I don't pine for him, right? I'm not over here heartbroken that he's dating someone and probably going to marry her."

"Can't say that I've ever known you to pine for anyone, Emma. But someone must have said something to you or something, right? Did Neal pull that crap where he's sure you're going back to him because that's just stupid? Not only would Ruby and Mary Margaret physically restrain you for having such thoughts, I might have to kick his butt and your butt too for being stupid."

She glanced back over her shoulder toward the bedrooms and hoped that Henry was still too busy concentrating on homework to hear her. "It's Killian," she admitted, swatting a hand at him when he appeared shocked to the point of clutching his chest. "I'm not going to confide in you if you act like that."

Taking a look at her pouting, which he had a hard time interpreting the sincerity of, he shook his head. "Sorry," he mumbled contritely. "I thought things were going pretty well there. I know we are on direct orders to pretend like we are not seeing or sensing anything going on, but…"

Sighing, Emma opened another cabinet to look for the missing mini cupcake pan. "You do realize that your girlfriend will kick both of our butts if we have a conversation about Killian without her." David didn't respond verbally, opening up her refrigerator and pulling out two of the tall bottles of beer that she kept in one of the drawers. He motioned toward the sofa and passed her one after opening it.

"Explain and then I'll give you amazing advice to the point that you will worship at my feet."

"So Killian's brother wants to restart the band that he and Killian had years ago," Emma explained, telling her friend about the band and the opportunity. David said nothing, only taking a few swigs as she described the search for the final members of the group and Emma's thoughts that he could be the missing factor. "I guess I sort of pushed Killian a bit much on the whole performing thing."

"And I take it he didn't react well?" David asked when he finally spoke. "I don't really know the guy that well, but I don't think he has any interest in that sort of thing. If he did, he's had opportunity. It's his brother we're talking about not just some random situation."

Emma's one handed grip on the neck of the bottle let the beer slosh a bit. "I felt sort of guilty about it," she explained. "I felt like maybe I stepped where I shouldn't have."

Giving her a sympathetic smile, David paused before he answered. "Emma, you don't trust people. Hell, you are one of the suspicious and jaded people I know. And before you throw your hands up at me and give me examples that prove otherwise, let me finish. It's understandable given your childhood and everything that happened with Neal. If I'm being honest, I'd say you're doing damn good not to need daily therapy or at least some medication to prevent you from going over the ledge." He took another sip, giving her the opportunity to expel the words that were clearly on her lips.

"And because of that I'm seeing something here that doesn't exist. He's not hiding some secret life. I'm not going to find out that he has some secret wife or love child. You know that happens right?"

David chuckled. "I don't doubt that it does, but I'm not thinking Killian's that type. But what I am thinking is that sometimes you are a woman of extremes. You either don't trust someone or you trust them to the point that you put them above yourself. Killian is a great guy, but Emma, he has flaws. We all do."

"And you think I don't realize that he has flaws?"

The quietness of his response made her lean a bit toward him. "Emma, I think that sometimes you want to believe that people don't have flaws. You can go to extremes with that. You believe that they are hiding something and you must bring it to light or you think that they are perfect and you set yourself up for disappointment. All I'm saying is that maybe you shouldn't worry how he's going to be the next one do so. You already know that he's a great guy. Just go with it. Stop trying to make him the next bad thing."

***AAA***

Roland climbed on top of the counter and threw his arms out. "Catch me," he demanded, leaping into Liam's arms before verifying that anyone had heeded his two word warning about jumping. Thankfully he could rely on the older Jones for quick reflexes, though the position he was held in was awkward and his legs dangled precariously with one arm around his tiny waist and Liam's large hand grasping one small arm.

"Son, you can't do that to people. What if he hadn't caught you?" Robin admonished as his son laughed with delight. "And you don't even seem to mind that I'm mad about it."

Liam tilted the boy, flipping him upside down and right side up again to the squeals of joy that bounced off the kitchen walls of Killian's small cottage. Robin was not sure who was more enthralled in that moment with Liam's boisterous laugh and Roland's delight. "Fine, where's your brother?"

"Couldn't tell you, mate," Liam choked out before righting the young boy and sending him in the direction of the living room. "He called to say he wanted to take a walk. That was two hours ago."

"Your brother has been missing for two hours and you're not the least bit concerned?" Robin slapped a hand down on the stone countertop. The relationship between the Jones brothers was always something he had admired. Having no brothers himself, he had wanted to fit in with them and feel the protective stance of Liam and the earnest admiration of Killian. The idea that Liam was not being protective in that moment only confused the man more.

"He's taking a walk," Liam said with categorical nonchalance. "He's a grown man not a puppy without a leash."