Chapter Text
It’s early October, 1939 in New York City. There’s a chill breeze in the air, but the sky is clear and sunny. Clerks are arriving outside of the modest-sized department store, Skywalker & Co., to begin the day’s work. They line up one by one: Mr. Finn Calrissian, Miss Rose Tico, and Mr. Poe Dameron, to wait for Mr. Skywalker, their boss, to arrive.
Ben Solo greets his coworkers with the tip of a hat. He is the nephew of Mr. Skywalker, and has worked at the shop for nine years as a most trusted employee. Ben has a key to the store, but they wait outside because Mr. Skywalker likes to be the one to unlock the door and let everyone in to start the day’s work.
“How was that dinner with your family and the girl they set you up with?” Poe asks Ben.
“A dull affair.” Ben shoves his hands into coat pockets. “The girl was kind, but the conversations held no interest for me.”
“Your head is a hard one to turn, but one day it will.”
“And your head turns toward just about anything,” Ben teases.
“That’s my joie de vivre!” Poe smiles. “Why not appreciate all the beautiful people in this world?”
“Because a dull personality isn’t worth the beauty that fades.”
Mr. Armitage Hux arrives. “Good morning gentleman,” he nods to the men. “Miss Tico,” he tips his hat to her. “What a beautiful day, don’t you think, Solo?”
Ben mumbles a less than spirited agreement. A taxi pulls up to the curb, and everyone straightens up, shoulders back. Mr. Skywalker exits the taxi and is greeted in unison by his employees.
“Good morning, Mr. Skywalker!”
He nods his head and unlocks the doors of the shop. The crew files in, one by one, flicking on the lights and heading to the employee room in the back to deposit belongings in lockers. Hux wastes no time lavishing Mr. Skywalker with compliments and jokes. He’s always eager to please in a phony way that irks Ben.
The clerks begin their daily tasks, removing the sheet covers from display cases, organizing and straightening. It’s Tuesday, and that means new shipments are in the stock room and ready to be put on shelves. Ben and Poe unpack the goods in the back room.
“I got another letter from my pen pal,” Ben shares.
“Hrmphr?” Poe’s voice is muffled behind a stack of boxes he’s carrying. He sets them on the table and peeks out from behind them.
“The girl I’ve been writing to,” Ben says. “ ‘ Lonely young woman seeks a companion to discuss culture and literature with an intelligent young man. ’ ”
“Oh, that’s right! The chick that put the ad in the newspaper!” Ben gives Poe a stern look at the word ‘chick.’ “How’s that going?” he asks.
“This is my fourth letter from her. We talk about music, art, history, anything at all. We can have a real dialogue about complicated ideas and philosophy.”
“Golly, look at you swoon,” Poe grins. “I couldn’t do it. I believe in the pheromones, the raw, sexual attraction.”
“A connection of the minds is far more important to me than if she’s a blonde or brunette. I’m tired of the small talk at dance halls.” He pulls out his most recent letter from his suit jacket. “Listen to this:
Are you tall? Are you short? Are your eyes blue or brown? Don’t tell me. What does it matter, so long as our minds meet?
We have enough troubles in our daily lives. There are so many great and beautiful things to discuss in this world of ours, it would be wasting precious moments if we told each other the vulgar details of how we earn our daily bread.
“Very well spoken,” Poe agrees.
“Ben!” Mr. Skywalker calls from the other room.
“Yes, sir!”
He tucks the letter away, grabs a stack of boxes, and exits the stock room with Poe following behind, his own mountain of boxes in tow.
“Look here!” Mr. Skywalker is holding a decorated wooden box with gold filigree.
Ben sets down the new items on Rose’s counter and joins Mr. Skywalker.
“I can buy two dozen of these music boxes from the Mitaka Brothers. What do you think?”
Ben takes the box and examines it carefully.
“Well, open it!” Mr. Skywalker says excitedly.
He does, and the tinkling music of Für Elise begins to play. Ben shuts the box quickly.
“No, it’s not for us.” He hands his uncle the box.
“But you haven’t listened to it! It plays Beethoven!”
“I don’t care what it plays, I’d still say no. I just don’t like the idea.” Ben’s face is stoic.
“It’s wonderful how you can make up your mind so quickly,” Mr. Skywalker says grouchily. “I’ve been in the business for 35 years, and it took me an hour to decide that I like the box! But, of course, you’re a genius. You know so much more than me!”
Ben remains silent. He’s well accustomed to these spats.
“Mr. Hux!” His uncle calls. “Miss Tico!”
“Coming, Mr. Skywalker!” says Hux with militant enthusiasm. He swoops over. “How can I be of service, sir?” Rose follows behind, a curious expression on her face.
“Look here, what do you think of this?” He holds the box between them. “Now, I want your honest opinion!” He says, wagging a finger in the air. “Don’t let me influence you!”
Finn creeps away to hide in the stockroom, as he always does when Mr. Skywalker starts asking for opinions. It was well known that if you disagreed with him, he was liable to be unkind to you for the rest of the day.
Mr. Skywalker opens the box for Hux and Rose. The music plays, and he talks over it to add, “The box is so versatile! You could put jewelry, cigarettes or any other small objects in it!”
Rose knows how to play the game and remain neutral. “I think people who like music boxes will enjoy it,” she says politely.
Hux goes much further. “What taste you have, Mr. Skywalker! I think it’s sensational, and our customers will be very pleased.”
Mr. Skywalker is pacified, but it’s not Hux’s praise that he really wants. “Well, Ben?” He asks again. “Have you thought it over?”
“Yes. I still think it’s… uh, inadvisable.”
“Well, give me one reason!” Mr. Skywalker demands. Rose quietly slips away from the feud to return to work. Hux stays, hoping to gain favor with the boss by taking any opportunity to oppose Ben’s opinions.
“Well, let’s say a man smokes twenty cigarettes a day. That means he has to open this box twenty times a day and hear this song. It’s a terrible idea.”
“Well, I–” his uncle stammers, but Ben carries on.
“Besides that, it’s imitation leather, the glue’s no good, and in two weeks the whole thing will fall apart.”
“You don’t have to tell me that it’s imitation leather, I know that!” Mr. Skywalker insists. “You let me do the buying and you do the selling!” He marches off to his office where Ben overhears him arguing with Mitaka on the phone to cancel the order of two dozen music boxes.
Just then, a pretty young woman enters the store and begins examining the purses.
Ben shifts into business mode and approaches her. “Good morning, miss.”
“Oh, good morning!” She turns around shyly and now that Ben can see her face, he’s taken aback by her beauty. Her hair is chestnut brown under her cloche hat. Her eyes are a greenish-brown, sparkling in the morning sun. Ben finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from her.
“Uh, it’s a nice bag you’ve got there,” he gestures to the handbag she’s picked up from the rack.
“Oh yes, very nice,” she agrees.
“It can be fitted with or without accessories and comes in a variety of colors.”
“Uh, I really didn’t come in to buy a bag,” she says hurriedly, replacing it on the rack.
“Oh, I beg your pardon. Is there something else I can help you find?”
“I would like to speak with Mr. Skywalker, please,” she says, her big eyes looking up into his.
“Unfortunately, he’s quite busy at the moment.” Still fuming in his office, no doubt. “But if you’ll tell me your wishes, it’s quite possible I could take care of you myself.”
He steps closer to her and catches the scent of her perfume, an intoxicating and somehow familiar smell. She does not deserve Mr. Skywalker’s ill temper.
“I saw your advertisement about the sale–” she starts.
“Oh yes, ma’am, everything is 25% off.”
“That’s sure to bring in a lot of business! Maybe you’ll need to hire some extra help?”
“Yes, maybe.” He’s lost in her bright eyes and pink lips.
She steps closer to him, a shade of pleading to her words. “Maybe that person could be me. I’m looking for a job,” she says in a rush.
Ben shakes his head and blinks in an attempt to clear his thoughts. It seems to help. “You know, that wasn’t very nice. Letting me go through the whole routine and all–”
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, I really didn’t mean to.” She’s twisting her fingers together nervously. “D-do you think you could help me get a job? I quit my position at Unkar Plutt’s. I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear! I just couldn’t spend another moment there; I have my reasons.” Her desperation is flowing out of her mouth now.
“Well, I’m sorry, there’s no opening–”
“But you just told me you needed help because of the rush!”
“Erm,” Ben gestures at the nearly empty store, save for a handful of customers. “Look around for yourself, you can see the kind of business we’re doing.”
He steps away and leans against the jewelry counter. He can’t remain so close to her, smelling her perfume and losing all coherent thought. But she follows him and continues speaking in that rushed, frantic tone.
“Let me tell you my qualifications– I’m very experienced! I worked for two years at Hoth Company, and I left of my own accord. And after that I was at Phasma’s for ten months–”
“Look, if it was up to me, I’d put you to work this very minute, but I’m not the boss.” Ben turns away again, but she keeps on his heels, undeterred.
“Then why don’t you let me see him? The boss?” She clasps her hands in front of her, in a pleading sort of prayer.
“Well, he’s sort of in a bad mood today.” Ben admits.
“I’ll take my chances.” She says eagerly. He meets her gaze now.
“Miss, I’ve known Mr. Skywalker all my life. I know him inside and out, and I’m telling you, it’s impossible.”
Mr. Skywalker exits his office and perks up at the mention of his name.
Ben continues, “I can predict his every reaction. I could tell you word for word exactly what he’d say.”
“And what would I say to this young woman?” He says behind Ben.
Luke steps forward and offers his hand to Rey. “How can I be of service to you? And let me assure you, ‘impossible’ is not in the vocabulary of Skywalker & Co.”
“I’m so glad to hear you say that.” Rey smiles widely without a second glance at Ben, who suddenly feels very put out.
“You see, I’m looking for a job–”
“Oh, no, no that’s impossible.” Luke throws his hands up and backs away, muttering about being very busy before nearly running to the solitude of his office once more.
Rey is crestfallen.
Ben steps forward. “I’m sorry for that,” he says in a low voice.
“But, I’ve just got to have a job,” Rey says, nearly in tears. Ben’s heart pangs in his chest, a sympathy he’s not accustomed to. He wants to help the young woman.
“Have you tried Holdo’s department store?”
“Yes, both locations,” Rey says, positively woebegone.
“Ben! My office please,” says Luke, poking his head out of the door.
“Just a moment, sir.”. He turns back to Rey. “Well, perhaps when we do inventory for the holiday rush—”
“Oh yes, when will that be?” Rey says, a spark of hope in her eyes. Ben likes that he is the one who has put it there.
“In two weeks.”
“May I leave my information?”
“Certainly.” He reaches for his notebook and pen from his suit pocket. “You’ll be the first person we call if we—”
“Ben!!!” Luke shouts angrily.
“Just a moment!” Ben yells back, his temper flaring to match his uncle’s tone. He turns back to the young woman. “What’s your name?”
“Rey. Rey Johnson.” She finishes writing with a flourish and hands the pen and notebook back to Ben.
“I’ll be in touch, Miss Johnson.”
He goes to Luke’s office and opens the door.
“Yes?”
“Come in and close the door behind you,” Luke says grumpily, pacing behind his desk.
Dread and annoyance settle in as Ben closes the door. He sees Rey still looking at him, as if he held the key to her entire future. She waves and gives him a small smile. Ben nods at her and closes the door.
He wants nothing more than to continue talking to that stubborn, indignant young woman instead of talking with his stubborn, indignant uncle.
“Why did you put me in that situation in front of the whole shop?” Luke whines.
“I’m sorry sir, but it wasn’t my fault.”
“Well whose fault was it? Mine??”
“Well, yes.”
“What’s the matter with you? You’re my nephew, my oldest employee, and I do everything I can to make you feel appreciated. You know how much I value your judgment, and on every occasion you contradict me! You always say no!”
“So, you’d rather I hire the girl?”
“What? No!” Luke plops into his chair.
“From now on, I will always say ‘yes, sir.’”
Luke can detect the hint of sarcasm from Ben and is about to argue further when Hux walks into the office.
“Mr. Skywalker, there is a young woman inquiring about the music box! What price shall I quote?”
Luke jumps up, delighted, and gives Ben a triumphant look. “Well, let’s see, cost is $2.85 so let’s mark it up–” his words falter as he steps out of the office and the three of them see Rey examining the music box. Luke’s brow furrows.
“Let me handle this,” Ben says.
“Miss Johnson?” She jumps a little at her name. “Miss, I assure you there’s no point in waiting. If we need help you’ll be the first call—”
“Excuse me, miss,” Luke interrupts. “Tell me, would you buy a thing like this?” He points to the music box in her hands.
“Oh, sir, I couldn’t buy anything at the moment,” Rey says modestly.
“No, no, I want your opinion. Your honest opinion!” Luke urges.
Finn sidles away to hide in the stock room.
Rey holds up the box, smiles and says, “I think it’s lovely.”
“Oh? Why?”
She pauses thoughtfully. “I think it’s romantic.”
“How so?” Ben presses. Rey looks down at the box again.
“Well, it makes me think of moonlight and stars, and dancing!” She seems very pleased with herself, and Ben can’t gauge whether this is her honest opinion, or one that she thinks might please his uncle. But please him it does.
“See! There’s the woman’s point of view!” Luke says to Ben.
“Yes, sir,” Ben says curtly. He walks to another counter to help a customer looking at wallets.
“How much are you selling it for?” Rey asks Luke.
“Uh… $4.50,” he offers.
“Wow! That’s a real bargain!” Rey says jovially, catching the attention of a customer nearby who cranes her head to see what Rey is holding. She makes eye contact with the woman, greets her, and offers her the box. “Isn't it lovely, madam?”
“Certainly,” the older woman says, turning the box over in her hands. “It’s a cigarette box, isn’t it?”
“Uh,” Luke starts to hold up a finger, but Rey carries on seamlessly.
“Oh yes, very keen eye, madam! A very unusual cigarette box. May I open it for you?” She unclasps the dainty gold link and the tinkling sound of the music begins.
“That’s Für Elise, a very popular classic!” says Luke, stepping up to join the conversation.
“Oh, no, that wouldn’t do in my home,” the woman shakes her head. “Where do people get ideas like that? Can you imagine every time you reach for a cigarette you have to listen to that song?”
Ben feels quite smug at the dumbfounded look on his uncle’s face.
She hands the box back, but Rey persists. “I know just what you mean. And yet, many of our customers like it for that very reason! We’ve sold several of these cigarette boxes to people who want to cut back on their smoking.”
“Oh really? How’s that?” The woman asks.
“Have you any idea how many cigarettes you smoke in a day?”
“Well, no, actually. I don’t give it much thought.”
“That’s just it!” Rey says animatedly. “We light up another and another and before we know it, we’re smoking two packs a day! Now,” she holds up the box again. “This cigarette box makes you conscious of your smoking! That’s what Skywalker & Co. had it designed for. Every time you hear this little song, you’re reminded: ‘Too many cigarettes! Be careful!’ Why, some of our customers have said it’s helped them reduce their smoking by half! All to rid themselves from hearing that song!”
The woman takes the box and looks it over again. “How much is it?”
“$5.50, reduced from $6.95. A real bargain!”
Another pause, and the woman says, “I’ll take it.”
Ben’s jaw drops.
Rey exhales a mixture of triumph and relief. “Thank you, madam.”
Hux rings up the happy customer and Mr. Skywalker offers Rey a job on the spot. She accepts gracefully, shaking hands with Luke and catching Ben’s eye. He looks angry. She can’t discern if he is disapproving of the show she’s put on. He does seem the type that wouldn’t stretch the truth quite so far as she had. And yet, here she stands, employed, victorious. She had proven herself. She could pay rent and put food on the table for another day.
And she decides she doesn’t care if Ben doesn’t approve of her sales tactics. Because she has a job.