THE GIRL THAT TIME FORGOT ▷ RIARKLE

ONE :: STRANGERS

Greenwich Village, New York
October 27, 1929

––

"tied up in pretty young things;
in the state of emergency,
who was i tryin' to be?"

––

Farkle Minkus swore the universe had it out for him. He groaned, and resisted the urge to rake his fingers through his gelled back brown hair. There couldn't be anything worse than Farkle having ten employees quit. Sure, Minkus International was one of the most successful businesses in the country, and Farkle was one of the richest men in the country, but he simply couldn't do it all. What would be the icing on his cake? The stock markets failing?

There was a knock at his office door, breaking Farkle out of his thoughts. He looked up from the stack papers on his desk. He could make out the figure of one of his most trusted friends.

"Come in," Farkle said, voice slightly hoarse but he still managed a smile.

"Sir, I have news," said a sweet voice from the doorway. His secretary. And the only woman to ever work for Minkus International.

"Yes, what is it, Ms. Smackle?" Farkle asked, watching Isadora Smackle close the door behind her.

"Mr. Friar and Mr. Babineaux have requested to see you at Knight's Pub."

Farkle looked at the woman in his doorway. He stood and walked over towards her. Farkle towered over her. It was almost hard to believe that the small woman in front of him practically made history. Isadora was one of the first women to work. Ever. She was truly ahead of her time. Farkle knew what kind of brain she had. He knew better than to waste it, even if it lead his father to call him a fool and leave the company's entire weight on the man's shoulders. But that didn't bother Farkle. It had been years ago. He could handle it. What did bother Farkle was that he and Isadora could never get their timings in sync. Three years they tried. Three years and nothing.

"Thank you for informing me, Isadora."

She allowed herself a small smile, illuminating her subtle features, or at least it should've. It should've made Farkle feel something. It was a rare, but attractive sight; her raven hair falling out of her up-do; her pink lips turn upward, and dark eyes crinkled. It should've held some significance that he could slip through the woman's guard, too. But, nothing.

"Go on. Meet them. Take the rest of the day off. You could use it, Farkle. I got it here," Isadora said quietly, a small smile on her lips.

Farkle found himself giving her a genuine smile. Sure, every business man in America would call him crazy, leaving a woman in charge, but Farkle knew potential when he saw it. It also helped that he trusted her more than he had anyone else.

"What would I do without you?"

"I don't have the slightest idea."

As Farkle walked for the doorway, their shoulders brushed. Nothing. Absolutely nothing when there should've been something. There should have been something.

***

"Here we are, Maya. Our new start," said a bright, cheery voice that belonged to a twenty-eight-year-old Riley Matthews.

"Are you sure, Riles? You said that about Knickerbocker, and look where that got us," deadpanned Riley's partner-in-crime and The Blonde Beauty, Maya Hart.

"Maya, this isn't Knickerbocker. Something good's here. I can feel it."

"You mean returning to New York after almost eleven years of hopping from place-to-place?"