Chapter Text
As Belle French waited for her boarding number to be called, she tried to convince herself things could be worse. It was getting difficult, however, because she had just experienced what was possibly the very worst business trip of her life. She probably didn’t even have a job when she returned to Storybrooke – in fact, she was sure of it.
Being the general manager for Gold’s Department Store wasn’t a huge accomplishment, but it paid her bills, and she was one of the youngest managers the chain had ever hired. She supposed it was because she had worked in retail there during high school and summers during college. The company runners had probably been waiting for her to return to the Storybrooke store with her Business Management degree to hand her the position. She didn’t hate the job, but she didn’t love it. It was stable, and that’s all she really needed. Working in the same town she had grown up in a store that was ten minutes away from her high school wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but employment was employment. Belle hadn’t figured out her true purpose yet, but being a manager was just supposed to be one stop on her way to somewhere.
She had gone on the trip to New York City to interview to be a regional manager who would oversee several of the stores in the Midwest area. Her office would be in Chicago, a fresh change from the antiquated Storybrooke. Maybe the horrid experience she had in New York should’ve been a warning. She should’ve called out of the interview before it even began.
She had arrived in New York a night before her interview, only to open her luggage and find her shampoo had spilled all over her clothes. She didn’t have time to do laundry, but the city was filled with stores, so finding a new outfit wasn’t a problem, it was just an expense she hadn’t counted on. It was also annoying that almost all over her possessions had shampoo all over them, but she managed to wipe off most of it. Everything she had in the bag just smelled vaguely of coconut and lime, now.
The morning of her interview, Belle put on her new pants suit and headed out of her hotel. She had overslept a little bit, so she was going to get lunch on the go and head straight to her interview. Belle picked the most cleanly hot dog stand she could, and got one with the works. She was standing by the cart, taking in the New York City scenery – she had only been once, as a little girl, and she could barely remember it. Just as she began to do a full turn around to take it all in, a bicyclist bumped in to her. She dropped the hot dog straight down her outfit. The pale blue shirt she was wearing was stained yellow with mustard, and her pants were splattered with relish. Locating the first store she could, she purchased a top to replace the one she had. There was no time to find pants that were her size, so they would just have to be stained.
Timeliness was one of Belle’s favorite things. When she stepped in to the posh headquarters of Gold’s, she hadn’t expected the people milling about the offices to look at her so smugly. She knew she was right on time, even a little early – her interview time was 1pm, and she showed up at 12:45, with her resume and ideas for creating sales lined up.
“My interview is at 1pm. I’m Isabella French,” she said, stepping up towards the receptionist’s desk.
“I’m sorry. You’re late,” said the woman at the desk, whose name plate read “Mallory Fireall”, eyes scanning over Belle’s uncoordinated outfit. “You were scheduled to be here at 11am.”
Belle whipped out her phone and scrolled through several spam e-mails in order to find the one from Gold’s Department Stores, Incorporated. Yep. She had misread that. The whole time, she just assumed the time she wrote down was correct. Why hadn’t she double checked?
“I am so sorry – I can’t believe I made that mistake. Is there any way I could reschedule?” Belle said, looking sincerely crushed at her missed opportunity.
The secretary pursed her lips. “Well, Mr. Gold is normally the one who does the interviews. He just left for the airport. Someone else might be here, I can see if they’ll do it.”
Mallory began clicking things on her computer and making hushed calls. Finally, she looked up at Belle with a tight smile. “Regina Mills, Mr. Gold’s second in command, will see you. Third office to the left,” she said, pointing towards a long hallway.
“Thank you so much. I still can’t believe I made that mistake,” said Belle with a shudder.
Belle tried to calm herself down as she made her way down to the office Mallory had directed her too. Being flustered wasn’t a good thing for an interview, but she couldn’t seem to catch a break. She knocked on the door hesitantly, and when nobody answered, she slowly pulled open the door.
Regina Mills sat at her desk, scanning a thick document with tiny font. Her walls were filled with photos of her and her family, and various certificates of accomplishments the company had made. She was the definition of a powerhouse, and Belle was intimidated. Noticing the newcomer in to her office, Regina looked up at Belle.
“Ahh, our no-show. Take a seat, Ms. French.”
Belle moved towards the chair opposite of Regina, and immediately began with an apology, which Regina cut off.
“We don’t tolerate tardiness, Ms. French. It’s not good form. However… we were particularly interested when you applied. You have been working for us since you were sixteen, is that correct?” Regina said as she reached for the files Belle had brought with her.
Belle nodded, “Yes, ma’am. And I feel I would do really well as a regional manager. You could look at my resume, and the sales at my store, along with some charts I created as to how we could maximize sales at all the Midwestern stores.”
“Why did you apply to work at Gold’s in the first place? What made you want to continue on with our company?”
Belle paused. Her mind was blank. There was a good answer for this, she knew, but it was like her mouth had become disconnected from her brain as she rambled a meaningless answered.
“Well… It was hiring when I was sixteen and I needed a job so I applied and the manager liked me, so I just kept working there and then in college it was just natural to come back, and then I had the degree to manage so… It just happened…”
“That’s nice.” said Regina, with a disapproving look on her face that was cut by a sudden fake smile. “Did you roll out of bed just before this interview?”
Belle started at Regina’s bluntness. “I had a little bit of a mishap with my lunch,” she said, looking down at her black pants, navy blue blazer, and the orange shirt (a gaudy color) she had purchased a few hours previous to being in Regina’s office. She was also positive her hair was falling out of the bun she had carefully teased it in to that morning. If regional managers had a look, it was certainly not what she had going on.
“Mr. Gold will be sorry he missed your interview, Ms. French,” said Regina, opening the folder Belle brought with her. Belle knew Regina’s sarcasm was thick, and she was thankful the CEO of the company was absent for this meeting. She wanted to slide down the chair she was in and exit the office and never come back. Just as she begun to think of escape routes, her stomach began to growl, loudly. Like a small whale. Regina looked at Belle with an expression that just read, “really?”, and with another look at the next paper in Belle’s folder, her face went from stern to confused.
“Is this a joke, Ms. French?” said Regina, spreading out the documents Belle had brought with her. It was her resume and the charts she had poured over, all right. But they were covered with crayon scribbles, making them completely unreadable.
Belle’s hands went to cover her face, and she said in a horrified voice, “I babysit on my off days and he must’ve gotten a hold on the folder before I left for the airport. I don’t know how I didn’t notice, I can’t-“
“You babysit? Is your career in Storybrooke not your top priority?” Regina said, with her tone of voice making it clear she wasn’t impressed with Belle’s side job.
“It’s my friend Mary Margaret’s kid, and I just watch him when she’s tutoring, it really doesn’t affect my job at Gold’s at all, Ms. Mills,” said Belle, trying to save herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a bowl filled with little caramel candies, and her growling stomach forced her to reach for one. Her nervous shaking hand knocked over the dish, and the candies scattered across the floor. Regina sighed loudly. Belle moved out of her desk and on to the floor as she tried to clean up the candies she had spilled. She was mentally admonishing herself as Regina’s sharp voice made her look up.
“Ms. French, I had hoped you would prove yourself to me despite your initial failure to show up on time. Unfortunately, it really seems like you weren’t prepared for this interview at all,” Regina said, her voice firm, making her displeasure with Belle’s lackluster interview very clear.
“No, Ms. Mills, I was – I just – I should go,” Belle said.
“That’s a good idea. At Gold’s, we expect all of our employees to maintain a sense of professionalism and excellence. We’ll be in touch about your future with our company,” said Regina, turning to face her computer. “You can see yourself out.”
From there, Belle rushed out of the office and back to her hotel, throwing on her sweatpants and a t-shirt (which did indeed still smell like her shampoo). Looking at her watch, she shrieked and headed out of the hotel and straight for the closest taxi.
And now she was at the airport. She sat with her knees up, face buried in her arms. She was getting sick of the smell of her shampoo, and she couldn’t believe how big she had messed up that interview. How could she have made so many silly mistakes? Why didn’t she double check her documents and the time of her interview? She was so off her normally impeccable game, and there was no reason for it. It was inexcusable. Belle was unbelievably mad at herself, and she couldn’t believe she was about to have to sit on a plane with herself for two hours.
Her boarding number was finally called, and she sniffled as she handed the stewardess her ticket.
“It could be worse… It could be worse,” she repeated to herself in her head as she found her seat. It was a smaller plane, with two people on each side of the row. She hoped her seatmate was nice and didn’t make a lot of noise. She didn’t have to worry about that for too long, because soon enough an older man in a well-fitted suit sat down next to her.
“Good evening, dearie,” he said, with a voice that seemed familiar to her.
“Is it?” she replied, “I just can’t wait to be back in my own home.”
“Not much of a city girl, huh?” he said, turning to look at her.
“Ha. I just blew the only chance I had to change my life… But I won’t bug you with that story. I’m going to try and sleep, actually,” Belle said, and with that she turned her head towards the window and closed her eyes, fighting the headache that was beginning to creep up on her.
Soon enough, they were up in the air. Belle couldn’t sleep, but she didn’t feel like talking so she kept her eyes closed. It felt like it had been an hour when she decided to open her eyes, but her watch told her it was really five minutes since they had made the announcement about reaching altitude. She pulled out her phone and plugged in her headphones, only to find out they weren’t working. Of course. Worst plane ride ever.
“Can’t sleep?” the man next to her questioned, as a frustrated Belle her phone back in to her purse. He was reading a magazine on travel. It must be nice to be able to afford that suit and some exotic vacations.
“Not really. It’s okay,” Belle said, rummaging through her purse to pull out her Kindle. She opened it up to an old favorite, and settled back in to her seat.
Suddenly, the plane jolted and the “seat belts” button dinged on every row.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing some turbulence. Please remain seated, and we’ll let you know if we expect it to continue on for a while as soon as we know. We appear to be flying directly in to a thunderstorm,” said the flight attendant in a smooth and calming voice. Belle had never understood the patience that those employees had.
Belle’s heart began to pound. She couldn’t die on an airplane wearing ratty clothes that smelled like a fruity explosion. When word reached her family, they would just be upset that she hadn’t even gotten the job she had traveled for.
The plane hit another pocket, and she felt herself move up and down. Her breathing was getting quicker, and she instinctively reached her arm out over the man next to her. Quickly retracting it, she looked at him. He looked at her quizzically.
“I’m sorry. Whenever I’m driving, I have to reach my arm out over to protect my purse at sharp turns or something, and I guess it’s just muscle memory with the turbulence.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m glad you’ll protect me,” he said amusedly.
Belle couldn’t believe how embarrassing she was. “I’m just nervous,” she admitted.
“Don’t be. I’ve flown hundreds of times, and I’m still here. Nothing to worry about. I’m Lenox, by the way,” he said. He was clearly trying to comfort her, but Belle was in the worst mood in the world and even the fact he was being kind couldn’t lift her spirits.
“I’m Belle,” she said flatly.
“Like the princess? That’s great,” Lenox said. When Belle didn’t reply, he took another approach.
“Why don’t you tell me why you’re in such a rotten mood? It might help to talk about it.”
“Well”, thought Belle, “what do I have to lose?”