Chapter Twenty-Three: What Happened to Frederick

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Emma learns more about the stranger in town, Queenie begins to set up shop, and Henry and David learn more about Harry's world.

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"It's a good location," Emma remarked as she and Queenie perused the documents Mr. Gold had given the Legilimens regarding her storefront. "And it seems like a good deal, too."

"It helps that I have the bakery back in New York, too," Queenie nodded. "It's certainly not the cheapest, but it isn't too expensive, either. It's a good deal."

Emma smirked. "Maybe Gold is fond of your confections."

Queenie giggled and closed the folder. "Or maybe he doesn't want to give you a reason to get in his business again."

Emma shrugged. "He stays on my good side, I'll work to stay on his."

"Seems fair to me," Queenie agreed.

"So," Emma glanced around as they approached the diner, eyeing the stranger's motorcycle when she saw it parked on the street, "are you going to tell us what had you so spooked after you followed Regina a few days ago?"

Queenie swallowed hard. "I need to go back some time alone," she whispered. "If I'm right . . . it could change a lot when it comes to Regina and Gold."

"And Gold?" Emma's eyebrows rose. "This involves Gold?"

"It would, depending on how we play this," Queenie nodded. "But Regina is still the mayor, and what I saw - "

She cut off when the door to the diner swung open in front of them and the stranger emerged, blinking when he saw them. "Sheriff," he greeted. "I've been meaning to bump into you."

Emma's eyebrows rose higher, and Queenie coughed, sidestepping the stranger. "I'll be upstairs, Emma."

"Yeah," Emma nodded, folding her arms and nodding to the stranger.

"Matter of fact, I was hoping we might grab that drink you promised," he told her.

Emma smirked. "Is that you asking me out?"

"Well, if putting a label on it makes you feel more comfortable," the stranger hummed, rocking on his heels. "Sure. Let's call it a date."

Emma smirked. "I thought you came here to write, find inspiration."

"Well, I'm optimistic about our date," he grinned at her.

Emma laughed. "See, I have a policy. I won't go out with guys who won't tell me their names. Find it weeds out the ones who keep secrets . . . like they're already married, or they store body parts in their freezer." She smiled sweetly and walked past him to the door. "It was nice talking to you."

"It's August!" he called after her, and Emma turned around, surprised he had told her. "August W. Booth."

Emma snorted. "Really? With the middle initial?"

"W is for Wayne," August explained. "So, there goes your reason for not meeting me here after work."

He walked off to his motorcycle, and Emma shook her head, walking into the diner. She found Queenie at a booth in the back with Harry, Mary Margaret, and David, the four huddled over Queenie's documents. All of them looked up as Emma approached, and Mary Margaret glanced out the window as August rode away. "Who was that?" she asked.

"I don't know yet," Emma replied.

"Yet?" David repeated, raising an eyebrow. "So you're going to find out?"

"Hopefully, today's the day to get some answers," Emma nodded, cradling the mug of hot cocoa that awaited her. "It's when I'm glad it's such a small town. Hopefully not a big amount of work, and this guy said he would meet me later."

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