Happy New Year! Hope you enjoy this chapter. I know that there were some questions about Ruby's reactions to her friends getting married. I spent a little time exploring that in this chapter.

Killian at the helm of the sailing vessel was something Emma had to admit was a view to appreciate. Maybe it was the way his jeans hugged his hips and legs or the relaxed look of pleasure on his face. She had pulled a knitted cap on him and covered just the tips of his ears, making an adorable sight as he flashed his dimples at her with a wink. She was snacking on a poptart while he was holding a granola bar, but it was still a shared morning meal as they made their way back to the slip the boat called home.

"So you know we do have to make some wedding plans if we're ever going to actually do this," Emma said over the sharp snap of the sails in the wind. "More than just a vague idea of location."

"I'm amiable to anything you wish, but I have a feeling you'd just see that as disinterest. So I can't be a part of the dress decision. Bad luck and all that. Let's talk food."

"That's easy. Granny would kill us if we go with anyone but her." Emma cradled her thermos of hot chocolate in between her knees and unscrewed the cap. "I say we give her a budget and tell her to keep it simple but tasting good. I don't want to feel like I'm eating saw dust at our reception."

He chuckled, leaning as he corrected the course of the boat. "I can go with that. I don't have much of an opinion on the menu except that I'd like a good selection of libations to keep us all happy."

Wiping a crumb from the corner of her mouth with her thumb, Emma looked thoughtful. "You mean you want rum for the wedding toast and not champagne?" She took the last bite of her breakfast pastry and washed it back with the hot chocolate.

"I'm a bit more civilized than that," he challenged. "Besides I can always keep a bit of rum in a flask." Cramming the rest of the bar into his mouth, he pulled back his hand and wiggled his fingers at her to beckon her closer while he swallowed. She brought the thermos with her, sharing a bit of the chocolate goodness with him before a heated and sweet kiss that he called distracting.

"You're the one who called me over here," she said, snuggling into his left side and sharing the warmth of his jacket with her own. "And you're the one who kissed me."

"Can't blame a man for finding you irresistible, Swan," he said, using the last name affectionately. "I'm a lucky bloke indeed for having such a delectable and distracting woman agree to marry me." He gave a cursory glance to the instrument at his right that indicated their position before turning to kiss her again. As she pulled away he growled impatiently at her just out of reach lips.

"You're the one who is distracting me from planning. I know you and I just want to do this, but we have friends who want details and ideas so they can take it over the top."

***AAA***

Elsa lounged on the sectional as Liam fished under one of the tables for his running shoes that he knew were there some place. Pretending not to watch him, she swatted at her nose, pretending to scratch it and cover the smile that crept up on her as she watched the funny faces he made with the effort of stretching and the grunts that echoed in the room.

"Amused, darling?" he asked when he returned victorious with the left lace up. He still had to find the right.

She batted her eyes with feigned innocence. "I was reading my book." She lifted the thick volume as if to prove her point. "Were you trying to get my attention?"

He grunted again before growling and launching himself at her to kiss her lips playfully. Careful of the borrowed book, she moved it out of the way just in time, returning his kiss with as much playful fervor. By the time he pulled back, he looked a little more unkempt than before, his curly hair in disarray and his eyes dilated as he stared back in breathless anticipation. "I was going to go for a run before our appointment with Graham. Unless you have a better idea…"

Using the book as a shield, she opened it back to her page. "I don't think it's necessary."

His hands rested on her calves, watching as she curled back up for the afternoon. "I doubt you're blowing off my run. Darling, we talked about this. We need to see Graham as soon as possible. Those flowers came from someplace. We need to see to them for peace of mind at least."

She kept her icy blue eyes trained on the page, focusing on the words of the second line instead of his concerned expression. "I don't think it's necessary. I'm sure it was just some silly misunderstanding."

He rocked backwards, away from her as he watched her thoughtfully run a finger along the page to find her place. "Why are you…?"

"Liam, they are flowers. It's not like it was a threat or anything that horrible. Let's just forget it. I've only got a few days before my first show of this booking. Let's enjoy the time before we're back to Skype and text messages." She pressed her lips together and touched them with the tips of her fingers. "I'm going to miss you."

"And I you," he assured her, pulling a knit cap out of his back pocket and tugging it over his errant curls that were going to need a trim soon. "But I'd feel a lot better knowing you were safe. What if…"

"Don't, Liam. I don't want to play games of what if. Look, I know you want to go for a run, but I'm hungry. Why don't we get some breakfast from Granny's? You could pick it up on your way back. Then we can have a quiet day here together, curled up and ignoring the rest of the world. I don't have to read. We could watch a few movies."

"You drive a hard bargain, darling. But I love a good negotiation. How about I drive over for breakfast and get you one of those pancake stacks you pretend not to love and steal all of mine anyway. That way it stays hot for you." He winked, standing up and whirling around toward the door. "One day without a run won't be of detriment to my amazing physique." He felt a swift kick as her foot came into contact with his denim clad bottom.

"Looks a little flabby already," she told him with a warm smile. "But I still love it." He chuckled at the playful mood she seemed to be in, waving off her offer to go with him.

"I'll be right back," he promised, donning his jacket and heading out the door after two more quick but firm kisses.

She wasn't exactly that upset about the cooler temperatures, but the idea of noshing on pancakes, buttery pastries, perfectly cut bacon, and soft scrambled eggs was making her hum with happiness. She loved the diner, but more than that she loved feeling Liam solidly behind her back as they both ate from the same plate and teased each other over the remaining bites. Tossing aside her book, she was part way to the bedroom to tighten and refasten her braid before his return when she heard the heavy thud of the door again. "Liam?" she asked, confused as to why he had returned. A quick look to the bedside table showed that he had his wallet and keys.

"Aye, it's me. Seems I've got a bit of a problem. My car does anyway. The tires…" He held up a hand as whoever he was calling must have answered. It was a quick conversation, mostly just giving directions to the condo's parking garage.

She was at his side at an instant, her brow furrowed with confusion at his breathless state. "And you can't change a flat tire?" she asked. He had changed one for her just a few weeks prior. It made no sense that he could not do the same for his own car.

"They aren't exactly flat," he said, his eyes staring back at the door rather than her face. "Three are slashed. Clearly it's not an accident."

Stepping back as if slapped by the force of his words, Elsa seemed stunned. "You don't think…"

His hand dug into the pocket of the lightweight jacket he had been wearing and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "This was on your car," he said. "Elsa, I think we have more of a problem than either of us were prepared to think last night. The tour is off for both of us. I'm not going to leave you vulnerable and unprotected."

***AAA***

Henry was dropped off by Neal about 20 minutes after Emma and Killian returned to the house, his footsteps quick and careless as he ran to the door and gave his father a wave goodbye over his shoulder. He knew his mother would ask about his time there with Neal, questioning his sleeping habit and whether he had experienced the nightmare again. The truth was that he had woken up out of a dead sleep with sweat on his brow and his mother's name on his lips as he called out for her. It wasn't Neal that came in to check on him though. His soon to be stepmother had stood at the door and told him that it was just a dream. She had tried in her own uncomfortable way to soothe him, but the awkward and meaningless platitudes had just made him miss Emma all the more.

"I'll talk to your mom about this," Neal had said over a breakfast of instant oatmeal that Tamara had made before heading to her early morning hot yoga class. "I know she's been concerned. Probably will send you for more sessions with that doctor guy."

"I'll tell her," Henry promised, not wanting to hear his mother defend her decisions to take him to see Dr. Hopper or the fact that she had gone away for a single night with Killian. There was a tenuous truce between his parents that seemed to hold on by the tiniest of strings. He and Dr. Hopper had already spoken of it many times, the doctor telling him that it was not his responsibility to hold that string together. However, he knew good and well that he was the reason for his parents' continued contact that was based solely on co-parenting him.

Neal had not argued, only saying that if there was anything wrong, he could always tell him. Henry nodded and hurriedly finished the breakfast so that he could escape to his homework before the ride back to the house. Killian had said they would be back by midafternoon and that they could work on that piano piece that he wanted to learn. Knowing his mother would insist that homework was completed first was just extra incentive. Plus that would mean that his mother might lighten up on her screen time rule about his phone and he could talk to Violet before the evening was done.

While his mother had her qualms about her son having a girlfriend or dating, she at least respected that he liked his classmate quite a bit. She allowed their dates to continue and was supportive of the advice that Killian gave regarding everything from where to go on a date to little gestures at school that she would appreciate. Killian's suggestion about bringing lunch for the two of them to share instead of dining on the disgusting choices of the cafeteria had been awesome. And rather than tease him about liking Violet, his mother took his opinion and feelings seriously.

He fought the urge to hide his eyes, a habit he had picked up from the displays of affection that his mother and Killian were not so good at keeping from sight. They never did anything that was scarring to his young psyche, but they were quite affectionate with each other. Just the other day he had come home from Avery's house to find his mother sitting on Killian's lap and his future stepfather reading to her from some boring book. Even the morning before when he had given his mother breakfast in bed, he had rolled his eyes at the way that Killian had wiped the syrup from her chin with his thumb and the tender look they had shared.

However, he was in luck as Killian was adding clothes to the washing machine and Emma was sorting through the mail. They weren't even close enough to touch. His keen observation skills also saw the way his mother's smile returned to her face as soon as she looked up to see her son.

"I missed you, kid," she said, not smothering him with kisses but pulling him to her side for a hug.

"I was just gone overnight," he protested, running his hand over his brown hair where she had ruffled it. "You're used to that."

"Doesn't mean I don't miss you. I think Killian did too. There was nobody to appreciate the collection of comic book movies he has on the boat now."

"You guys were on the boat?" Henry asked, reaching around the mail that his mother was sorting into piles to grab one of the cupcakes that Granny had provided at the party. "Without me?"

"We just took her on a little sail down the coast and back again," Killian explained as he joined them at the table. "Once the winter is over we'll take her out more. She's a lot more comfortable now and I'll add some finishing touches to her when the weather cooperates."

"Ok, I guess," Henry said, burying his disappointment in the cupcake. They must have felt somewhat guilty at excluding him since neither mentioned ruining his appetite with sweets. Instead they wanted a rundown of what he had done the night before and that morning. Killian was interested in learning the score of some game and Emma appreciated knowing (just as predicted) that he had completed his homework. He didn't mention the nightmare, but swore to himself he would later. They were already planning dinner and debating a video game tournament rematch or piano lesson when Killian and Emma's phones both chirped simultaneously.

He resisted the urge to bite into another cupcake or listen in on their ends of the conversation, picking up one of the catalogs that had arrived in the mail instead. He was flipping past advertisements for hover boards and other electronics when Emma returned to her seat. "So change in plans," she explained. "Elsa and Liam are on their way over to talk to me about something. I guess it's about the tour. Anyway, maybe you and Killian could…"

"I'm afraid I'm not available for any outing," Killian interrupted, dropping his phone to the table. "Mary Margaret and David are arriving shortly. Mary Margaret has some plan she wishes to talk to me about."

"I guess we better make things presentable for company then," Emma said with a resigned sort of shrug after she told Killian that his brother and Elsa would be there too. There wasn't really time to talk about it or speculate, as their overnight bags were still in the living room, as were her gifts, a platter of cupcakes, Henry's attempts at a racetrack that he swore was part of his science experiments, and a few dozen books that needed to be returned to the shelves. Henry was running a duster over the coffee and end tables just as the two couples arrived. While their timing was similar, it seemed that neither had expected to see the other. So amidst the awkward hellos and pleasantries, Henry piled jackets on one of the chairs by the door and offered to check the fish trap that he and Killian had placed a few weeks earlier.

"Mind if I join you?" David asked, giving his wife's shoulder a squeeze. "Looks like there is a lot to discuss here and I'm not really a part of that."

So that was how Henry and David ended up checking the trap and then discussing how best to cook the fish that both admitted were gross to clean. David described the wonderful dishes that his mother had cooked so easily, speaking of her with admiration and gratitude. He chuckled that he might not have picked up on his mother's ease and patience, but he had learned a few culinary secrets from the woman.

"Why is everyone here?" Henry asked when they made their way back up onto the deck that jutted off the side of the house. "I thought you all saw each other last night."

"Well, my wife wanted to talk to Killian about some idea she has about school. I don't know about the others." David looked uncomfortably at the container he had with the fish, lifting it and then lowering it due to the odor. "What do you say we hold our noses and get these cleaned? I'm thinking fish would be good for dinner. We could make it a continued birthday party for your mom if everyone wants to stay. Besides you haven't told me how my pancake recipe went over yesterday."

Those were the magic words, as Henry was always excited about pleasing Emma. He didn't even mind the smell or sight of cleaning the fish as they worked or the fact that David was clearly stalling going back inside. He'd been around the man enough to know that he was honest and hardworking, as he had to be to win Mary Margaret's heart. He also loved to have fun and told great stories of his days before his family's farm had been sold off in pieces to developers.

"Are they really that hard to keep up with?" Henry asked, thinking back to what he knew of sheep. They didn't seem that energetic or troublesome. "Horses I get. But sheep?"

"Trust me, there is nothing worse than trying to get those sheep in a pen when they don't want to go," David said authoritatively as he tossed another cleaned fish into the pile. "When I had my first date with Mary Margaret I was nearly late because this one sheep decided that jumping over her friends and keeping away from me was more fun."

Henry wrinkled his nose and tried to imagine his pretty teacher and her husband as young teenagers. It didn't work. "She likes people to be on time," he reasoned, thinking about her classroom rules. "I bet she was that way then too."

"Oh yeah," David answered with a chuckle. "I was late for our third date. She refused to answer the door and told me that she would see me in a week if I was on time."

"Were you late the next time?"

"I was 10 minutes early," David clarified. "I wasn't going to miss out on a date with her again."

***AAA***

Liam seemed for Emma's eyes to be more of a mother hen in that moment than she had ever seen. He was shuffling about the kitchen of the seaside house with precision as he dug out a tea kettle and began warming the water and brewing what he said would help Elsa's nerves as the two women sat at the dining table looking at the photocopied note from the flowers and the one found on Elsa's car.

"And these are the only two?" Emma asked, her fingers touching only the edge of the paper. "Nothing else has happened?"

"Bloody hell, Emma," Liam exclaimed. "Don't you think this is enough? This person has…"

"I didn't mean it like that," Emma answered exasperated. "I only meant that maybe there had been more contact that had not seemed so threatening, but in retrospect…"

Elsa shook her head, hands still folded on the table before her. "I don't think so. I have gotten fan letters and even a few little gifts like photos and little items during a concert, but this…"

"This person has infiltrated our home by getting into the parking garage. That Graham bloke is investigating, but what is Elsa supposed to do? Wait until this person is inside our condo? Is she supposed to welcome them and thank them for liking her music so much that…" He slammed the metal container of tea down on the countertop sharply. "I thought that law enforcement would be more concerned. And then I hoped that the label would care…"

"I do care," Emma answered back just as sharply. She wasn't trying to antagonize Liam, who was clearly concerned about Elsa's well being and probably felt helpless at the moment. "I just want to figure out what exactly we're dealing with here. Most celebrity stalkers don't start out with the intention of hurting someone. They build up to contacting the celebrity and then become violent when the frustration or rejection hits. So figuring out if this is a new situation or old will tell us a lot."

Elsa looked over her shoulder at a fuming Liam and then back to Emma again. "Liam thinks that perhaps I should cancel the tour dates." While her fingers remained laced together, Emma could see the digits tighten as she spoke. "I think that it would be okay. There's always a lot of security at these shows."

This was clearly an argument that had grown as the day progressed, Liam feeling helpless and Elsa feeling obligated. They each had a point, Emma reasoned.

"Nothing has to be decided right now," Emma told them, looking again at the window where her son and David were engaged in conversation. "I think we should consult with Graham though. I'd feel better knowing what he has found and I think you would too?"

"He's slated to be here after he finishes looking at my car. Wouldn't even say it was a crime until he looked – like I slashed the bloody tires myself."

Emma's foot tapped almost impatiently as she glanced at her phone. "Alright then. We wait on Graham and then we'll call Regina. The label has a wonderful security team that can make some of the decisions. Plus Graham will have ideas. In the meantime, it looks like my son and David have caught dinner. Why don't you plan to stay and we'll take things as they come."

***AAA***

Ruby had no idea that Graham was headed toward the Swan-Jones home when he brushed her off for their usual afternoon off together. She had slammed won the phone with such energy that she nearly broke the screen, making her long for the days of slamming a rotary dial phone to hear that satisfying clunk and ring reverberating from the intensity of it. Now days you simply pressed a button to disconnect, something that seemed anticlimactic at the end of an argument.

"I know that look," Granny said, shuffling over to turn the handles on the coffee pots so that they could be easily accessed and identified by the wait staff. No matter what time of day it was the coffee was always brewing and a popular choice. "Which man did what?"

Ruby was not in her uniform, as she did get some time off despite her increase in hours after her grandmother's health scare. "Graham. I've only been seeing Graham lately, Granny. You haven't noticed."

"I don't miss anything, but your monogamy isn't exactly going to stop others from pissing you off. So what did Graham do to you?" Her tone was short and her eyes were shifting along the counter at the unfinished work that still needed to be done. Ruby didn't miss that and with a frustrated sigh of feeling neglected and that her grandmother refused to follow Dr. Whale's directions, she began to load the flatware container and restock napkins. "Well?"

"We usually do something on Sunday afternoons." Ruby said as she rolled another napkin with a fork, spoon, and knife. "He's busy, but didn't say why."

Granny turned the latest edition to the basin so that all the flatware faced the same direction. "And you are upset that he's busy or that he didn't say why."

"I know he's not working. He has today off. And I know he doesn't have any other friends or whatever that he hangs out with that much. So he's obviously…"

Granny arched an eyebrow over her glasses. "He's obviously what?"

"He's obviously afraid to tell me why."

Opening and closing her mouth as if she was thinking better of what she wanted to say, Granny waited a moment and then slid the plastic basin with wrapped flatware away. "You seem very sure that this is some act of betrayal. I don't seem to recall you getting so bent out of shape about a broken date before. Is this because you are only seeing him?" The sarcasm dripped from the woman as she said the last part, clearly still reeling from that revelation.

"I thought you wanted me to stop wasting time and find a good man." Ruby flounced with her dark mane bouncing over her black and red lacy top, shoulders shaking as she placed the basin back in its spot. She reached for the napkins next and began to carefully stack them for the holders at each table. "You have wanted…"

"This isn't about what I want. You are upset and I'm trying to understand why."

Skeptical of her grandmother's concern, Ruby tried to control her breathing as she waited for the next sentence. Surely her grandmother had something new to add, something that would invalidate her feelings of abandonment over an afternoon of plans ruined. "Fine. I don't do relationships. You know that. But I have been watching Mary Margaret and David and Emma and Killian. Everyone is pairing off for houses with picket fences, babies, weddings, and everything. I've never wanted it. I've never needed it. And I know that drives you crazy. I have always told everyone that I don't have a biological clock, I have a grandmother who loves to play matchmaker."

"I never set you up with anyone," Granny reminded her in a gentle but firm tone. "You said you didn't need the help."

"I thought maybe that I was wrong," Ruby continued, ignoring her grandmother's reminder. "I mean they seem happy, right? Mary Margaret practically has blue birds of happiness following her around and Emma is smiling all the time. They both talk about how wonderful it is to be in love and be with someone you want to spend your life with…Even Emma."

If Ruby had turned around to face her grandmother she might have seen the look of pride at that. She was proud and had every reason to be for setting up the confirmed bachelorette and single mother with her son's teacher. It was a feather in her cap to know that Emma was so changed by love as to sing its praises. However, now was not the time for gloating. "And you…"

"I wanted to see if maybe I was the type too."

"Ahhh," the older woman said solemnly. "And you thought that Graham might fit the bill?"

Ruby dropped the stack she was holding and whirled back to her grandmother's prying but kind eyes. "Emma, Mary Margaret and I used to go to this club in Portland," she said, ignoring it seemed the question on the table. "Emma and I would drink and dance and have a great time. Mary Margaret would sneak off and call David. But Emma and I would have fun. And there were all these men dancing with us. Tall, short, young, old, rich, broke, it didn't matter. We were just dancing and enjoying ourselves. And as the night went on the club would be less crowded. People paired off and left. Mary Margaret would go back to the car because she was our designated driver and would fall asleep chatting with David. Emma usually met some hot looking guy but dumped him for some asinine reason and would chat up a bartender about being a single parent. And I was left out there on the dance floor still trying to have a good time."

The gray haired woman nodded. "I know how clubs work, Ruby. I wasn't born a grandmother."

"Then you know that as the night goes on, the options are less. And soon you either settle for some guy who lives with his parents, might not be as divorced as he claims, is addicted to video games, hasn't worked in 18 months, or just got out of prison. Or you dance alone. And I thought that maybe I was okay dancing alone."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Granny told her.

"No, there's not, but it's…I thought that maybe…"

"Maybe there is someone for you. And maybe it is Graham. Or maybe it's someone else. Or maybe you're not supposed to…" She picked at the paper on the drinking straw. "The problem with you, Ruby, is that you always want everything on your schedule. You've pushed away men, good men, horrible men, everyone, because you weren't ready. Now you might be ready and you're standing here with arms open and wondering why they don't all come back."

Grumbling, Ruby glared at the woman and then back at the counter. Her legs crossed and uncrossed, a move that she often used to show impatience on a date. "That makes me sound desperate."

The old woman's lips twitched up. "A bit lonely perhaps, but not desperate. Ruby dear, there's nothing wrong with being alone. You don't have to have the picture perfect life of Mary Margaret and David who will probably have the Christmas cards with them flanked by four children and a tree in front of the fireplace."

"In matching sweaters," Ruby added flatly. "Don't forget the matching sweaters. And pics of them with their oldest holding a sign that says he or she is being promoted when they announce the next pregnancy."

"Right you are. And you aren't Emma. I know you sort of hung your star on the idea that the two of you would live that single life for the rest of your days, but Emma's…she's been alone too long. She has had to rely on herself since birth. And she wanted a home, a family, and now she has that. But Ruby, you…"

"I am trying to create something where there wasn't anything before," she concluded. "I didn't even ask Graham what he wanted. I just jumped in and pretended it was the same thing."

Granny lumbered off the red swivel stool where she was sitting and peeked out the window to see if there were any signs of arriving customers. The serving staff for the next shift would arrive soon and the two that were currently counting frozen lasagnas and making out orders would be off in a few minutes. "You're doing it again. Graham's never given you any reason to doubt him before this. Maybe something did come up. I know trust is hard for you, but sometimes it is earned."

"You don't even like Graham. You said he talked funny and needed his hair cut in a different style. You said he was too scruffy and looked like his beard would tickle when I kissed him."

"A little superficial," Granny admitted, smoothing her hands over the cotton apron. "But you know I got to know him better. He's brought me my celebrity magazines and even showed me how to watch Judge Judy on demand. He's not a bad guy."

Ruby bit back a laugh at the idea of Graham watching the screeching woman yell in the mock courtroom. "Wait! When did he do that?"

"Oh since the hospital," Granny said with a wave of her hand. "He's been visiting. Said he thought he should get to know me better since the two of you were dating. I thought it was an act at first, but he's been good company. He absolutely loves that picture of you in the wolf costume when you were three."

***AAA***

Emma reached around Liam and pulled the cooking spoon out of the organizer. "You know if you're just going to stand there…"

"Sorry, but I was kicked out the other room so that wanker can ask Elsa questions." His arms were folded over his tight Henley shirt that was a faded navy blue and obviously one of his favorites. "Something about her being able to speak more freely without an audience."

Transferring the spoon to David who had taken over the smallish kitchen, she nudged Liam to the side with a sympathetic but firm shift of her hip. "I think that's just standard procedure. You and I both know she isn't keeping anything back from you."

His grunted reply was met with another firmer push from their hostess. "Come on, Liam, sulk someplace else. We've got enough cooks in here." The space was crowded with Killian and David grilling the fish on the stove and Henry stirring up some vegetables and pasta with a sauce that had been classified by Killian as top secret. Mary Margaret was the only one not in the kitchen, as she had retreated to the couch where she was marking pages in a bridal magazine for Emma.

Liam made it as far as to the other side of the bar where he perched on a stool and craned his neck to see the stairs were still empty. "How bloody long does it take to ask her about some flowers and a note?"

It was David who answered that Graham was a decorated law enforcement professional and one who knew his business. "He's just doing his job," David concluded, adding a dash of hot sauce to the oil that he was using to marinate the fish before grilling and earning a frown from Killian. "I'm sure he's trying to get her to make a list of possible suspects."

"I don't think she even knows her stalker," Killian interjected. "It is doubtful she knows each and every fan, especially a deranged one." He leaned closer to the marinade and breathed in to check it before snatching the hot sauce bottle away from David and putting it away.

"And it's possible that this person just wants us to think he's a fan. It could be someone she knows." David flipped one of the fillets into the mixture. "I saw on television…"

"Bloody hell, now we're getting clues from Law and Order." Liam gripped the counter and kicked his running shoe against the back of the cabinet. "I'm half a mind to go in there and take Elsa off to some deserted island to protect her rather than rely on this shoddy operation."

"It was NCIS and based on a true story," David responded defensively. "But what I'm saying is that we shouldn't make assumptions. That's how you let your guard down."

"For once I agree with David," Killian said, adding quickly that he wasn't referring to the use of the hot sauce in the marinade.

Emma just shook her head and moved toward the couch and the inevitable discussion of wedding planning with Mary Margaret. She had her own theories about Elsa's situation, but wanted to wait until Graham had formed at least a theory. Regina wouldn't like it, but she was sure that the label would foot the bill for more security and even provide a guard or two for both Elsa and Liam, as well as possibly Anna. She wanted to get Regina to provide a list of not only performers from the Rabbit Hole, but their staff, family, and volunteers. Plus she wanted to see if there was a security tape at Game of Thorns. Elsa might not recognize whoever purchased the flowers but Emma thought she might if given the chance to study the footage.

"So I think this style works best," the newlywed was saying as she pushed the perfume sampled publication under Emma's nose. "Simple, classic, great lines, and that soft peach is to die for."

"Peach?" Emma asked, pulling back to better see the page. She was expecting a model in a flowing gown of lace and tulle, smiling as she stood in a garden and coyly looked over her bouquet. Instead it was a plate. Was she really looking at a plate? "Mary Margaret, we own plates. I own plates. Killian owns plates. We could entertain like 36 people with all the freaking plates we've got around here."

"It's wedding china," the brunette said with a sigh as she returned the magazine to her lap. "You need good china. You're going to want to hand it down to your children. It's an heirloom."

Glancing at her son who was laughing at something Killian was saying under his breath about David or Liam, Emma rolled her eyes. "Henry's more a paper plate kind of kid," she said, not mentioning the idea of adoption yet. "And I think we have enough decisions to make without adding plates and gravy boats to the mix."

Looking mildly disappointed, Mary Margaret flipped the page. "Okay, so I like these," she said, shoving the page back at her. At least this time there was a woman in a bridal gown – okay dress since it was short and looked more like a dress for a night club act than a wedding. It was totally not the teacher's style at all and took Emma aback at the suggestion.

"Seriously? This?"

"Not the dress, the shoes."

Killian slammed a cookie sheet down on the counter with a bit more gusto than he meant, the sharp clang echoing through the room. He looked sheepish only for a moment before telling David that it would do nicely for roasting a few veggies that Mary Margaret craved at every meal these days. She shook her head as she heard something being said about not having a bloody wok. She was going to have to remember to stroke her fiancé's ego when it came to cooking, as obviously he was struggling at being compared to David's more American style.

"They are nice, but if I wear a long dress, I don't need to worry about how my shoes look. Plus we're talking outdoors on the beach. I'm not thinking delicate heels and sand are a good match."

"You don't like the shoes," the pregnant woman muttered, flipping to the next page she marked. "And if you don't want to talk shoes then I guess we shouldn't discuss whether to have in season flowers or not." The woman practically tore the slick pages as she thumbed through the publication furiously.

"Mary Margaret," Emma said gently, touching her friend's arm. "I like those flowers on that page. They might work, but let's hold off talking flowers while Elsa and Liam are here. Why don't we think about music? I asked Killian to pick out the song for our first dance, but maybe you can help me with the ceremony music." Okay so that was a bit of white lie. She had said she wasn't sure she wanted a reception with dancing and all the expense. She was okay with cake and a light meal catered by Granny at their house. But like it or not she would need music for the ceremony and she knew Killian would not mind the suggestions of their friend.

That did brighten the brunette's face, as she dropped the one magazine and pulled out one three times the size. "There's an article here on that. It discusses the differences in processionals and recessionals and how to find one that fits your style." She thumbed to the right page and was happily engrossed in suggestions and reading quotes aloud as Emma made a show of writing down a few that she liked. There was only one moment of panic when Emma suggested that they could find all the music on MP3 and the teacher informed her that she would have to have at least a quartet.

By the time Elsa and Graham emerged from upstairs and they were all being called to the table, Emma calculated she had enough musical selections picked in case any guests arrived three hours before the wedding began. She settled into a seat between Killian and Henry, looking out at her friends and enjoying the banter when there was a sharp knock at the door. Henry jumped up to answer it with instructions about making sure he knew who it was following him all the way.

"Ruby?" Emma asked, confused since her friend strode in and straight toward Graham. "Are you okay?"

She didn't know if Ruby heard her or not, as Ruby yanked the officer up from his seat, looked at him critically and the laid a kiss on him that had most of the crowd turning their heads. Pulling back finally, she said nothing to him before spinning on her heel and looking at Killian and Emma with an apologetic smirk. "Got another plate?"

"They have plenty," Mary Margaret chimed in. "Go grab one."