Fic about Lorelai. Rory and Emily after Richard's death. Gilmore Girls isn't mine!
"You're earlier than I expected."
"No traffic."
Lorelai and Rory follow Emily through to the living room where Emily pours them each a glass of wine. Lorelai thanks her and notices, as she always does, her father's tall bottle of scotch which her mother has never moved.
"So tell me about your week," Emily says, making her jump. "How was the inn?"
They make conversation about the latest guests and events but soon turn to Rory, who's just finishing travelling around the East coast. The newest maid comes to announce dinner and they walk through the hall and past Richard's study, which has been closed since his death. Tonight they eat roast pork, and Lorelai can't help recalling her father's disdain for how it's bred leaner these days. Hurrah for the opposable thumbs. She smiles to herself as she cuts into the meat.
"But where's the salt?" Emily bemoans as she starts eating. "This is ridiculous. Portia!"
"I think Portia's time is up," Rory whispers and Lorelai nods seriously. The maid scurries back to the kitchen, coming back with the seasoning, and Emily glares at her as she hastily places it on the table. Lorelai notices it's not directly in the middle but Emily icily tells the maid to leave, and turns to her granddaughter.
"So tell me more about New York. Did you do any sightseeing?"
"Not as much as I'd like. I had to do so much work."
"I haven't been back for the longest time. Do tell me you went to see an opera."
"I didn't, actually," Rory says, hiding a smile. "Sorry, Grandma. I did see a play though."
"It was Cats," Lorelai teases and Emily's mouth drops open.
"You're not serious!"
"No, Grandma, she's not," Rory says in a mock-stern voice. "It wasn't Cats."
"I should hope not!"
"I bet it was the Rocky Horror Picture Show," Lorelai says, grinning, and Emily shakes her head.
"I'm not even going to respond to that. Rory, tell me what you did see."
"It was All My Sons and I also saw a concert of Shubert, oh, and an exhibition of Monet. Is that better, Grandma?"
"Considerably," Emily says, glaring at her daughter. "I'm sure your mother doesn't know half those names."
"Yes, I do!"
"I asked you to play Beethoven once and you thought I meant the movie with the dog," Rory says with a grin and Lorelai shakes her head.
"These are lies, heinous lies. I used to listen to those records all the time. Dad, tell them how I -"
She pauses, frozen as she catches herself turning to where her father used to sit. There's a sudden, stung silence where no one wants to speak. Lorelai looks away but everything seems garish and bright, the candles burning on the table, the blue of her daughter's dress and ache in her mother's face. She stares down at her own dress, her eyes swimming and making the purple blur. She blinks it away, dares look up and her mother's face is set again.
"Pass the salt, please," she says with composure. Lorelai hands it in silence and Emily coughs, changing the subject to the DAR. Her eyes are bright but her voice is steady. When it's time to leave Lorelai looks back at her father's study. She doesn't say a word but remembers sitting with her father, a little girl laughing at his records which he'd play over and over, promising she'd like it. She knew if he were there he'd defend her, but he's not. Her father is gone and they walk in silence to the car.
"Mom," Rory says hesitantly. "Are you -?"
"Willing to listen to the radio? Yes."
Rory is sad but she nods, and they drive away. Lorelai stares out of the window at the glistening night. He has gone but she is still his daughter, and Lorelai hums a tune beneath her breath. Bach. No, Wagner. His favourite music and she has forgot.
"Mom?"
Lorelai looks over to see her daughter frown in concern.
"I'm fine," she says, trying to smile. "We're nearly home."
"Yeah," Rory says quietly. "It's not too far."
They smile again and drive silently back through the night