November 2008
Rory stared at the water gushing from the fountain, shivering as she buried her gloved hands deeper into her pockets. She has been sitting on this bench in the hotel lobby for an hour, trying to make sense of the offer she had just been given.
Two days ago, Barack Obama won the Presidential election and Rory Gilmore's first post-college job had come to an end. She had written her final piece at 4am from the W hotel in Chicago, where her grandmother Emily insisted she stay for her last week on the trail. She had crashed shortly after emailing her boss, Hugo, only to be woken up by a phone call at noon from Jon Favreau, the President's speechwriter. That in itself was a surprise, but his request was even more of one: the new First Lady wanted a word.
Her relationship with the First Lady began in a restroom of a Best Western somewhere in Texas early on in the campaign. The button on Mrs. Obama's skirt had popped off, and channeling her inner Paris Geller, Rory offered the safety pin her mother insisted she carry for this exact scenario in exchange for an interview.
"You've got moxie, girl," Mrs. Obama laughed but agreed. The article that followed a few days later almost shut down Hugo's website. The interview with Mr. Obama a month later, offered from the popularity of his wife's article, actually did.
Still, although Rory had managed to wrangle interviews from both Obamas several times over the course of the campaign, she never expected this sort of phone call. Nor had she expected the offer that came with it.
"Press secretary?" Rory squeaked to First Lady, grateful that Emily Gilmore wasn't in the room.
"Rory, I've read your work. Every one on the campaign staff has appreciated your work and both of our communications directors had already pulled together a collection of your previous work before last night. And your resume speaks for itself. Valedictorian at one of the top high schools in the country, Editor of the Yale Daily News, intern for Mitchum Huntsburger…" Rory resisted the urge to groan, wondering if she would ever shake the specter of Mitchum bloody Huntsburger.
Michelle went on, "I want the kind of person who can sit on a panel with a bunch of pretentious college newspaper editors and put them in their place. I want the kind of person who's willing to corner the candidate's wife in a bathroom for an interview."
Rory smiled, "That's not exactly how I remember it."
Michelle chucked, "Regardless, I need someone smart and ambitious and brave. And I need someone who has to grace to handle a room full of journalists. If the reports from your time at the DAR are any indication, your can handle yourself just fine."
Rory cringed and wondered just how much Michelle knew about that time. As if sensing the Rory's hesitation Michelle jumped in, "I know enough. I know about the arrest, I also know that you managed to put yourself back together become editor of the paper and graduate at the top of your class from one of the most prestigious colleges in the country. And the advisors assure me it won't be a problem."
Rory sighed. "How…how long do I have to decide? It's just…this was not what I had planned, not what I was expecting… At the very least, I need to call my mother…" Michelle smiled; Rory had spoken of her mother every time they had met, and it was clear the two were extremely close.
"We need to know Monday. I know its soon, but…"
"No, I get it. These things work fast. Who should I call?"
"Here, just call me," Michelle said as she handed Rory a card. At the shocked expression on Rory's face, she laughed. "I'm pretty sure you're going to say yes."
Rory smiled then, "I will let you know as soon as I can. And thank you, Mrs. Obama."
"Rory, if we are going to work together, just call me Michelle."
Rory knew she needed to call Lorelei. She knew her mother would be excited for her and would enthusiastically throw herself into asking, and then answering, a million questions and planning her move. But she hesitated for the same reason. As the elevator dinged, signaling her arrival on her floor, she knew there was really only one person she could call who could understand what she needed to sort out.
She settled onto the bed, checking the time on her phone: 4:30. Which meant 5:30 on the East Coast. She took a deep breath and hit '2' on speed dial.
"Geller."
"Paris, it's me. Do you have a few minutes to talk?"
"Actually, yes. I just got home and the heat hasn't warmed the place up yet, so I'm still wearing my coat. You know I can't study in layers."
"Of course. Well, I need some advice."
"Is this Logan related advice, because if it is, I don't know why you need to call; you know what I am going to say."
"No, not Logan advice. Work advice. I got a job offer."
"Well, of course you did. I assume you have several. You are a great writer."
"Thanks Paris, but its not actually a writing job."
"Not a writing job?! Rory, the entire time that I have known you, all you have ever wanted is to become a writer. What kind of offer would make you consider something else?"
"Press Secretary to the First Lady."
…
"Paris? You still there"
Well, that is certainly that kind of offer."
"Yeah, I know."
"What does your Pro/Con list say? What does Lorelei say?"
"Haven't consulted either."
"I was you first call? Thanks Rory."
"Well, you are the most ambitious person I know. And one of my best friends. And you know me better than most every one else-?"
"Take it Rory."
"Seriously?"
"Seriously, because this is a 'what if' kind of offer. As in, you will wonder 'what if' for the rest of your life, if you don't take this job. And its kind of time limited, you know? In four to eight years, you will have to move on. You can always go back to writing then."
"You are right."
"Of course I am. Call your mother."
"Next on my to-do list. Thanks Paris."
"You can thank me by picking up my phone calls when the President does something stupid."
"Will do Paris."
Rory hung up the phone, knowing Paris was right. This kind of job would change her entire life. And if she didn't take it, she would always wonder, 'what-if.'
She hit '1' on her speed dial this time around.
"Lorelei's House of Torture: Our pleasure in your pain."
"Hey Mom"
"Rory! You're alive! She's alive everybody! Seriously, are you really you're alive?"
"Yes, mom, I haven't slept much in the last few days, but I am alive."
"What's up hun? The article was great by the way. Emily is enjoying rubbing it in everyone's faces."
"Well, she's going to have something even better to rub in their faces now."
"Really? What kind of something? You haven't finally snagged that hot speechwriter, have you? Your grandmother thinks he's yummy."
"Uh, no. Actually it's a work type something..."
"Oh Rory, The Times? The Post? The Hartford Gazette?" She said the last one with only a tad bit of hope.
"Actually not that type of offer."
"Not that type of offer? Is it a Today show type of offer? Cause, honey, Matt Lauer seems like an ass."
"Press Secretary to the First Lady."
…
"Wow."
"Yes, wow."
"I wasn't expecting that."
"Me either. But Mom…"
"My daughter is going to spend the next four to eight years in the presence of those arms? I'm so jealous."
"It's a once in a lifetime kind of opportunity. And to be honest, I don't know what I will be offered, you know, with Mitchum and everything."
"Gahh! I can't wait to see the look on his smug, assy face."
"Assy, Mom, really? So you are ok with this?"
"Hell yeah, I'm more than ok with this! This is fantastic. And I bet you anything those grandmothers of yours are going to be competing over who gets buy you an apartment in D.C." Rory was glad her mother couldn't see the surprise on her face. Rory's recently reestablished relationship with Francine was something that her mother had seemed to completely ignore. But perhaps this was something that was finally getting better. Maybe she'd go for broke…
"Actually Francine still owns a townhouse in Georgetown from when Strobe was a Justice. She remodeled it in attempts to sell it, but then the market crashed and she decided to hold on. I stayed there the last time we stopped in D.C. and she kept dropping hints that if I took a position in Washington I could just live there." She took a beat. "I'd probably have to let Grandma and Grandpa buy me a new car to make up for it." If Lorelei, was ignoring the Francine issue, Emily Gilmore was attempting to glare it into submission.
"Well, yes, most likely. A really fancy new car" Lorelei didn't sound too upset. And Rory decided to steer the conversation back to the job while she still could.
"So you are really cool with this. This isn't a major daily. Its not part of the plan."
"No kid, its not. It's a million times better. This is going to change your life kid."
"Yeah, I know."
"So I know you probably have to move sooner rather than later, but do you know when you are going to make it home?"
"Probably in the next few days. I need to call Michelle-"
"You need to call Michelle? We get to call her Michelle?!"
"And I need to find out when they need me. And I need to call the grandparents. And Dad. And Lane. And Francine."
"And Paris, she will never forgive you if you don't call her."
"Actually I already did."
"You called Paris before you called me?" Rory hoped that was mock-outrage.
"Her ambition would scare Napoleon. I just needed some perspective."
"I get it hon. Well I'll let you call Michelle and everyone else. But let me know when you are getting home and I'll make sure Luke has burgers and coffee waiting."
"Thanks Mom."
Rory stared at her phone for a few minutes before taking a deep breath and punching in the number she had already memorized. After speaking to an assistant, Rory heard the phone being passed off.
"This is Michelle."
"Michelle, its Rory Gilmore. I'm in."
AN: This is my first story. There is a guy in all this, and one that you know, but I'll keep you guessing for now.