Title: McMaster Misses-Gellar Gals
Author: Nate
Pairing: At this point, no pairing at all; this is a mother/daughter fic involving Paris and Gabriela. There will be pairings in future chapters, but for now we're just establishing things. One thing known; Gabriela is questioning her sexual identification in this, as most teenagers do in this time of their lives (And if you know my writing, you know where that questioning might go, so if you're rooting for Brent O'CWHotguy to come in...yeah, you're going to be disappointed. Don't say I didn't warn you in advance.).
Spoilers: A Year In The Life is unchanged, but this works off the chronology from there. We come into this story in late August of 2029; Paris is 44 in this story, with Gabriela being fifteen.
Rating: PG-13 (mentions of violence and trauma. This is also a story dealing with the lingering aftermath of a sudden tragedy from years before, so that's definitely going to be a long part of this fic)
Disclaimer: AS-P may have decided to suddenly be like 'we don't need to know Paris's kids beyond being literal set décor for a Rory freak-out' scene in AYITL and drop Paris and Doyle's plotline out of the blue in "Spring", but thus; Amy Sherman-Palladino and Warner Bros. Television own Gilmore Girls, along with Hofflund-Polone (though they aren't credited with the revival). All other products mentioned within are the property and trademarks of their respective owners, and no disrespect is meant or implied (Hallston is a fictional private school which is like New York's real-life Dalton Academy, but if it was awful and pretty much ignored basic things like bullying). Also...this is set in 2029, so obviously I'm trying to work with the future. I'm not going to have everyone in flying cars or eating food in pill form like in the Jetsons (much less autonomous self-driving cars), so hopefully if this is read in 2029, iPads, iPhones, television and housing like we have now in 2018 is still a thing (though I'm sure New York real estate will be even more absurd in eleven years...that's a darned good guess, I'm sure).
Archiving: AO3 and ff-net. Anywhere else, ask first.
Summary: After her school ignores her pleas to be left alone by girls who regularly abuse her, Gabriela acts to leave them behind, while Paris is also looking for a change of scenery herself in a very familiar place, while trying to leave behind tragedy that has defined their lives deeply.
Author's Notes: This fandom we have can be so odd. We get several new characters introduced in AYITL (OK, some of them we will never speak of again like we do Bootsy), but Paris has kids. Two wonderful blank slates. And yet...over 500 rehashes of Rory/Logan and the aftermath of all that instead. You're looking for that here? You aren't going to get it from me (maybe later on, but if you know me, it's going to be in derision).
This is the first story I know of dealing specifically with a teenage Gabriela McMaster-Gellar, and how I think she might be when she grows up and has to face the legacy her mother left for her to meet and fulfill. But again, if you're looking for 22 chapters of a spoiled brat offspring of a Gilmore Girls character named for an inane reason only known to the author partying, regularly violating teenage intoxication laws and sleeping around with cheesecake men with the intelligence of milk cartons, this ain't that kind of story. It's going to be a story involving a girl growing into her own self, and a mother who has faced a tragedy of unimaginable proportions and her having to reconcile with a new life the second time around after putting it off for so long. At this point, this is a side-track to my usual femslash offerings I thought of all on my own. But I hope with further encouragement and want to know more, you will see more chapters of this as time goes on.
Monday, August 27, 2029. Park Slope, Brooklyn
This was it. She could no longer take any more of this at all. As she sat in her room waiting for her mother to come home, the young blonde took a look at her hands, shaking and quivering.
There was no more she could do in this school. No matter what she tried to do, whatever projects she took on, it wasn't enough for Hallston. Her mother paying nearly $100,000 a year for this education, which guaranteed her legacy.
For what? Another incident of bullying the administration would not even take one peek at because the contributions of someone else somehow meant more than her mother's. That she was continually teased for her existence, that would not have continued if not for a bit of obstinance when she was four.
She was thankful she was still in this world. But she had continued to attend Hallston four years longer than she needed to. And the hurt, the pain, the sadness she continued to feel...even those girls she felt were her friends had turned on her. Susie Heller had come back from her summer break, and with cutting words, had ended the friendship without allowing the girl any recourse or way to defend herself.
If not for the eagerness of people back in Hartford to have her mother back in town, and the idea of a fresh start which had been floated for years, the girl may have considered a more drastic measure.
But her mother had gone through enough in her life. More than enough to fill three lifetimes. One more tragedy would not only wreck that woman, but just gut her entire family's legacy.
She was lucky that the asshole that was the headmistress at Hallston let her go without a call earlier that day. To allow her to finish the day. She wasn't going back tomorrow. She would rather go to the worst public school in the Bronx than step foot back in Hallston again.
And when her mother walked in her bedroom door, she knew, it was time. Another late day at the office, 7:30 when she entered her daughter's bedroom. The harried physician had not a clue what occurred, and her daughter had evaded her beloved nanny when she came home; she had departed for the day already. She opened the door.
"El, I'm home, how was your-"
The woman paled upon the immediate sight of her daughter, with a considerable bruise along her right eye, still in a rumpled uniform.
"...first day?" The young woman looked up at her 44-year-old mother, absolutely defeated.
"Momma?" Her wide brown eyes, shared with those of her mother's, were full of tears. "I'm...I'm done. I c-c-can't go back." She hyperventilated, prepared for the sure-to-be-long rant against Hallston that would quickly ensue.
It didn't happen. Instead, the woman sat at her bedside. "They did nothing. Nothing at all. Even though I patiently explained in meetings with them that if they didn't do better, I would pull you out."
"Susie...she un-friended me. She...she said that everyone else was right. I should just die. And then Aurora, Heather and Petra...they...they all tagged me in the bathroom-"
"Oh, no." The woman held her mouth open. "You went right to the office-"
"Girls being girls. They're the kids of supermodels and hedge fund managers. I'm just the kid of some baby doctor. I need to learn how to stand up...for myself was...what she told me."
"You have been for eleven years! How...how dare they!" She wrapped an arm around her daughter. "El, I...I thought...I thought this was your year-"
"Mom...it's not your fault." She continued to cry. "You wanted to hope for the best, but it's like fucking Gossip Girl, but worse!"
"Language. I know we're both volcanic, but...we gotta take the high road." A sigh. "God, I yearn for the days when the only social media harassment I ever had was from jerks like Duncan and Bowman prank-calling me using the student directory."
"I can go private all I want on Instagram and Twitter, and they've still found a way around." She looked at her mother. "You...you actually look exhausted yourself."
"I...am." She patted her daughter's leg through her Hallston skirt. "My work building just got bought out by some Kushner-like idiot; more condos for the .000000001%." She horridly imitated the building manager's tone with her. "I must vacate the premises by November 1st."
"They're pricing you right out of New York! That's the third building in five years!" The girl shrieked. "By the time next year starts, north of the Tappan Zee is going to look downright cheap. "
"I know." A pause. "I know we've put off the thoughts for so long. That we thought 'we can make it in New York', just us two girls. But Hartford..."
"I know." The younger woman agreed. "You...you really think that it would work?"
"Cheap rents, fresh start. And now that Susie has gone anti-you, what is there keeping you here?"
"Besides stage doors at new Broadway musicals, limitless travel on the subway and convenient shopping?" A shrug. "I'm not going back to Hallston."
"You are not going back to Hallston," the woman agreed. "Despite all the cra-crud you've gone through there and in life, you've maintained a 4.0+ GPA, you're amazing at debate, and you have an eye in detail within your photography and writing. And...maybe you can strengthen all that at...Chilton?"
The girl shrugged. "It can't hurt. You've always told me; think of where I am as my domain. Hallston was never that. It always felt like I was in someone else's."
"Maybe that's why it was never right for us." The older woman patted her daughter's back. "Gabriela Lorelai McMaster-Gellar, you've never let them get to you, no matter what they threw at you. Perhaps, it's time to look this gift horse in the mouth."
"Go back to Hartford, start anew?" A smile. "I thought you said you were 'bigger than New York' once."
"Oh, I still think I am bigger that New York. I'm perfectly sized for Sao Paulo, but Nanny was never particularly receptive to my idea of dominating the Brazilian fertility industry." The woman chuckled, the wrinkle in her nose at the remembrance of her beloved mother figure. "But Hartford. BDL's still close enough to allow celebrities to whip in and out of town, along with Brainard. It's right between here and Boston. The only complication...I sold off the Manor to the Hartford Historical Society after the IRS gave it back when your grandparents escaped the grid, so we couldn't go back there."
"I wouldn't. That place is haunted as heck, Momma." A laugh. "Which is why...I keep an eye on Hartford real estate."
"Huh?" The woman was caught off-guard as Gabriela lept off the bed towards her MacBook. She quickly navigated in Chrome towards her bookmarks page . "El, what on earth-"
"You always talk about how wonderful that town of Stars Hollow is and we go there plenty of times to see Lorelai and Luke!" The girl, who had been down minutes before, was now fully animated as she brought up a Zillow page and RE/MAX page she had saved as bookmarks in concert. "It's not often that houses in the Hollow go up on the MLS for sale, usually you get people snapping them up right away." Gabriela pointed at the address. "This just went up three days ago."
"Hold on..." The older blonde woman grabbed glasses out of her pocket and put them on, focusing on the computer's screen as the familiar sight of a certain house came up. "Whoa! No way!"
"Yes, way!" The girl was eager to point it out. "Right next to Lorelai's house."
"Hold on...you're telling me that..." She read the description on the RE/MAX site. "Four bedroom, two and a half bath home in a small town between Hartford and New Haven...fair commuting distance to New York...good parks and schools...yeah, not worrying about that last one...quiet neighborhood. Well-loved home being sold by couple retiring to North Carolina." Her mouth dropped open. "Oh God, Babette and Morey are retiring!"
"They are." Gabriela lit up. "I know you've been looking to sell this place and you've had that offer from Kate McKinnon and her wife and kids-"
"I...I suppose I might want to take her offer seriously, shouldn't I?" The woman hummed. "Far be it for me to let this go by."
"You want me to scroll down-"
The woman scoffed at her daughter. "I don't care if they want three million dollars. Dr. Paris Eustace Gellar is not going to let this opportunity fly by!"
"But what about your practice? You need to-"
"Ahh, whatever on that. I can find class A office space for a song in Hartford! Hell, I can buy or build an entire building!" Paris hadn't felt this excited in years about an opportunity, but was caught by her Gabriela's sudden flummoxing at her excitement. "El?"
"This is a bit fast, don't you think, Mom? Three minutes ago you were resigned to stay here, now you're willing to move us back home?" She knew her mother's mercurial moods, left and right; this was a definite right.
"You're carrying a black eye Hallston doesn't define as 'bullying' and they couldn't give less than anything how much I give to them." A sigh. "Honestly, I've been ready to move on with New York for nine years. But I was told to stay. By my staff, by the media, by everyone." She sat in Gabriela's computer chair. "To give you...a normal life. As...normal as can be when..." She threw up her hands. Still mentioning the bare facts still choked her up. "New York is like, 'we'll make you a great woman. We'll help your daughter also become great. Of course, they also made Donald Trump great and are complicit in so many financial scandals, so I don't know that their definition of 'great' is something I can stand by much longer. And...and I..." She felt like crying.
"Mom..."
"I...haven't even slept in that bedroom since the day it happened. I literally have made a bedroom in what should be a library." A sigh. "And...and...I hate myself-"
"Momma, don't!" A sigh. "You know I carry enough guilt myself to last seven lifetimes. If I hadn't called that kid at McDonald's a 'little dickhead' and you hadn't grounded me...I would have been on...on...that plane. It was a miracle in disguise."
"It was." She looked skyward. "But nobody...nobody..." She looked down. "I mean...when I...when I saw that flight number on that chyron on Channel 7 in concert with 'Plane crashes near Ponca City, Oklahoma'..." She shook her head. "I still feel like one day, just one day...I'm going to get to Groundhog Day June 12, 2019. That something would stop your dad and Tey from catching that flight and you weren't pissed at me for grounding you from going to the Toy Story 4 premiere. And that..." She felt her daughter wrap her arm around her, continuing to stand. "And I know...you still feel like sometimes you should have been on that flight, but I thank God...you didn't. But I hate Him for taking my beloved husband and my dear son."
Gabriela let her mother go on. It would happen a few times a year; some trigger would bring back the remembrance of that day. A five year-old Gabriela watching Jeopardy! and finding her streak of questions for the answers broken as an anchor came on-screen, delivering the news that American flight 42 from JFK to LAX had crashed south of Ponca City, trying to maneuver a north-south emergency landing on that city's airfield after both engines had taken bird strikes and were destroyed. Of Paris's recognition of the flight number, and of a call to Doyle's phone, which never responded again.
"We can't live here anymore, Momma." Gabriela concluded. "I want you to have a normal bed again. I don't want to feel like a visitor in your own home. It's been nearly ten years and...we need to move."
"Did...did Susie-"
"She did. She said I should have...died. Melina and Sonya got to her at summer camp. I go to hug her and she just went off on me and...before I knew it, Melina had told me to 'back the fuck off, bitch' and gave me this." She looked around the room. "Somehow out of Susie ending our friendship, I got a lecture from the headmistress and three hours detention."
"Which you will never, ever, serve." Paris's grief had turned to anger. "They know how Melina and Sonya have been on you since that first day of kindergarten. How many goddamned conferences I've had where I've begged Mr. Faulkner and Mr. and Mrs. Humberton to leave you alone. They've done less than nothing and made you afraid to go to school and...I'm done." She turned back around, using the mouse to scroll down to reveal the price of Babette and Morey's home. The figure made her laugh. "And I'm done with this RE/MAX agent too. Those two are getting much more than $650,000 for this house." She clicked the 'contact us' link immediately and began to type. "El...before I send a message to this agent. You don't want to consider a transfer to anywhere else in New York, right? Horace Mann, Chapin, Trinity, Spence or Yeshiva? We could-"
"Mom, how guaranteed would my acceptance to Chilton be?" Gabriela wondered. "You talk about it like it's a slam dunk, but-"
Paris quickly got out her phone. "Hey, Siri, call Headmaster Peters." The phone repeated the contact's name, and within moments, a woman picked up the line.
"Angelina Peters." Paris put the call on speakerphone.
"Ms. Peters, it's Dr. Paris Gellar." A pause as she looked at her daughter. "My daughter thinks there's a chance that you would reject her admission to Chilton if I asked you to consider it. So is there a chance, at all?"
A laugh emanated from the phone. "You were a unique student, Ms. Gellar. But you were my finest editor on the Franklin, and you single-handedly have funded our journalism program for the last ten years, along with your 'in memoriam' donation for your husband and your son regarding the new Doyle and Timóteo McMaster-Gellar Memorial Academic Building we just dedicated two years ago. Plus I keep a regular tab on your daughter; she's one of Hallston's best students. The only question I would have is, is she considering leaving Hallston? On the first day of tenth grade?"
Gabriela took a breath, staring at her mother, and then at the phone before speaking. "They...they have a bullying problem they refuse to deal with."
Ms. Peters took in the other voice. "They're still on that 'ignore them and they'll go away' bullshit that aged as bad from the 80s as Growing Pains, are they?"
"Ms. Peters!" Paris took issue with Ms. Peter's language, but in truth, neither really cared.
"Dr. Gellar, it's true. I've taken at least six ex-Hallstoners over the years who came to Hartford and Chilton specifically to evade their non-action. Sadly, it's not a shock." Ms. Peters paused. "Outside the usual costs, the only thing I would need is a full look at Gabriela's transcripts, but after that, I would not see foresee there would be any issue with her admission here at all. And if there is, I get a few exclusions per year from the trustees. We would take Miss McMaster-Gellar, without any hesitation."
"Well...great." Gabriela beamed as Paris responded to her former faculty editor's zeal. "We're just hashing some things out-"
"Momma, I could live with Uncle Jacob during the move. I'm sure the house needs work-"
"El, it's not definite definite!"
"I know, but you could wind down things in New York-"
Paris rolled her eyes at Gabriela's eagerness. "Ms. Peters, ignore Gabriela. She's under a belief that I can just drop all we have in New York and...we will schedule an appointment in the coming days for formalities, how does that sound?"
"I'll give all the teachers the pre-warning you're returning, this time as a Chilton mom," Ms. Peters joked. "It would be wonderful to have Gabriela among our student body for sure. Also keep in mind, we have an online program to start Gabi on before she gets into in-person classes if she wanted to."
The two women finished the conversation as Gabriela rolled her eyes before Paris hung up the phone. "Mom! You-"
Paris just gave her small smile to her daughter, knowing what she wanted. "I know you want to get out of Hallston right away, but we can't just transfer your Hallston schedule and call it a day, they have different schedules and class sizes." She looked at the real estate listing again for the house, reading a line that the house did indeed need some work, including heat and some rooms, along with the low ceilings Babette had all over the place. "I've still got to fulfill my office lease until the end of October and offer my staff enough to come north with me, and any old house lived in for over fifty years needs some work; I know we at the minimum need to re-wire, add Ethernet and TV cabling, re-do the bathroom and kitchen and install new windows, along with HVAC stuff." She looked at the listings. "And I'm going to have to be smart about this. Taylor's still around being Taylor, somehow. So I've got to use my business LLC and a trust so I can just have others do all the gruntwork for the permits and actual work, and not have to appear in front of the town meetings."
"What's wrong with Taylor?"
"He'll decline your permit if you use anachronistic nails or some other wacky permit garbage. I know nothing about building a house."
"Witness us having three floors we never, ever use," Gabriela pointed out to her mother's patented death glare. "Hey, you and Dad bought this brownstone sight unseen!"
"Which is why I have to be smart about this. Right now it's...August 27. We have two months, four days to get the house purchased, find a new place for Dynasty Makers in the Hartford metro, demo and reno the house and move our entire life to Connecticut. But there's the Chilton online program, so we get you in that by Labor Day and you could just work from here or the library on schoolwork until then." Paris stretched out her fingers as she made each of her points. "But there is one more thing."
"One more thing?"
"It's Stars Hollow. If Lorelai gets wind of the move..." A laugh. "El, I know the house. It's a very nice house and Babette and Morey are amazing people; they've taken great care of it outside the few things we know decline over a long period of time. But if we get this house, Lorelai can't know until we move there."
"Why not? You love Lorelai!" Gabriela wondered what was going on.
"I do. She was pretty much everything that Grandma Sharon never was, and never will be to you, to me. But she gets involved with this and we'll never get this done. We must knock her socks off and surprise her. She's probably expecting some inane Gen Z'ers using the house to blog or have parties in to come in, or a dull nuclear family who will never extend her neigborly kindness. And she loves you, El. You know the moment she realizes you're living next door she's going to want you over for junk food and movie marathons all the time; you'll become her Rory for this generation." A shrug. "I kind of crossed my fingers for another girl. But Luke's XY's decided to overpower Lorelai's XX's once they were implanted, and instead they got that little future heartbreaker by the name of Marcus Richard Danes."
"That little heartbreaker is your godchild, if I recall."
"That he is." She remembered three years after Lorelai and Luke's first visit how they decided that they needed to make their genetic mark, and they were ready to try after they realized they were never breaking up again. Paris was in awe that even at 51, Lorelai was still plenty fertile and able to donate five eggs to try for a child, while Luke tuned out every attempt Paris made to talk about the 'amazing motility' and viability of his sperm. Two attempts with the surrogate Luke and Lorelai coordinated did not go through, but the third did, and the now-eleven year old Mark was a young light in the eyes of Luke and Lorelai, giving the couple new life and ensuring that the Gilmore and Danes lineages would both go even further than imagined forty years prior. "But this move. We can't just say 'we're moving to Stars Hollow' and that's it. The house has history, and we must be respectful to that, along with Luke and Lorelai. We make this move...and we make them thankful we came there."
"And we leave the baggage of New York behind, right?"
"God, yes." Paris looked at her daughter. She had never expected Gabriela to be so mature so fast, especially after what happened ten years ago. She still carried deep emotional wounds and trauma, like her mother. But she was tired of being the Hallston rag doll, there to be in school for an education, unlike her classmates. Her extracurricular activities were supported openly by her mother, but she yearned for more, and reading her mother's yearbooks and about her Chilton education, she knew that legacy was something she would enjoy extending.
Gabriela was ready for a fresh start. She looked at her mother, still somehow looking as young as she did twenty years ago. She watched Paris set her fingers on Gabriela's laptop and begin to compose a missive about the home, going on about how she was a local and did know the neighborhood, but would prefer to keep the transaction secret. She smiled gazing at her mother's keyboard handiwork, pounding out her entire housing history and that hopefully her sale of the brownstone would more than cover the entire cost of Babette and Morey's house, purchase, renovations and all.
"And...that's it. Send and cross our fingers." Paris clicked the 'send' button and turned to her daughter. "We're doing this."
"We are. Oh my God." Paris got up, opening her arms to her taller daughter, who proved that Doyle's alleged 'short gene' was but an aberration, being taller than her mother by three inches. "We're moving to Stars Hollow. And Hartford. I...hope-"
"I am going to snipe the heck out of that house. It will be ours, dear. Cross my heart." Paris ran her fingers through her daughter's hair, assuring her. "And tomorrow I begin the process of getting a place in Hartford for Dynasty Makers. Something that goes better with my aesthetic. Less 'fake-ass birthing center set up by a bible-thumper I had to re-adapt' like this last office has been."
"You did your best, Mom. How did you know a place called "Anchor of Hope" basically cursed it?"
"Not that commercial real estate agent, that's for sure." She released Gabriela, laughing. "And I mean it, you stay the heck in bed in the morning. My first stop in the morning is to officially pull you out of Hallston, lay Headmistress Majkowski on her ass, and then to confirm with Headmistress Peters that you're going to Chilton."
"I'm sorry. I just hope you get your mon-"
"El?" Paris quickly put on her stern gaze, shaking her head. "Don't even worry about how they're going to fight to keep you in that awful place. You're out. If I lose my money, I've got a lot more. I've only got one daughter, and I only want to see her happy." Her tone slowly turned kinder. "You are my entire world, no matter what anyone else might say, and that they refused to treat you kindly your entire time there? I'm done with them 'building your character'. If it takes a black eye for that to happen, excuse my language? But fuck them. Ever since Doyle and Tey died, it's just us, and we have to look out for each other.
"Never forget, even if there are times it may not feel like it, that I love you, Gabriela. I'm always going to be here for you. And I am not going to let your spirit be extinguished. Are we clear?"
Gabriela nodded, understanding her mother. She knew that she was rare with showing such deep emotion and protectionism, but that she was lucky to be Paris Gellar's daughter. "I love you too, Momma." She offered a smile. "So...if we have two months left, we should take advantage of the take-out options we won't have in Stars Hollow."
"What, you don't like the world of cuisine that is Al's Pancake World?" The remembrance of an Al's meal made Gabriela blanche white.
"My digestive system did not, sadly." She shuddered. "Cheeseburger mac and salad from Jerry's Noodle Shop?"
"You're speaking my language, El!" The older woman loved how her daughter understood her mac and cheese cravings. "I'll order, and we'll figure out how the heck we're going to hide a move to Connecticut from those we love the next two months." Paris pecked Gabriela's forehead and grabbed her phone to put in the order, leaving Gabriela alone in the loft bedroom as she took in a relieved breath.
That couldn't have gone any better, she thought to herself. Her mind was still spinning from the lunch confrontation with Susie and what she had gone through.
And how relieved that the administration didn't call her mom. Nor did she extend what her former friend told her besides she was no longer her friend. In fact, her heart was still hammering at abnormal levels because of why Susie was done with her.
Along with how a personal journal she thought she had lost several months ago had ended up back in her hands. The pink and purple notebook contained with 'Thoughts...January to April 2029' at the side of her MacBook, which she was thankful her mother had shown no curiosity about.
But what was inside was likely to break apart their bond. Susie had stolen the journal on a dare from the girls to join their clique before summer break and had responded to what was contained in the entries, in a way that would have shattered Gabriela's heart. She tried not to think about them, but the words continued to echo through her mind.
"I don't love you at all like that, you dyke! You're talking about loving me emotionally and romantically in the way you do? Fuck you, Gabriela. We're going to make your life a living hell until the day you graduate. Though I hope you don't; hopefully God intervenes the same way he did when he took out your precious dad and brother!"
It was ugly, shocking, and completely unlike Susie. But when Melina tried to give her a concussion, she knew.
Susie had broken a twelve-year friendship based on how she felt for the girl. Her confusion over her feelings, how she didn't feel anything about a man. Gabriela couldn't talk to her mom about this; she would never understand how she felt about being in love with her best friend.
"A fresh start," she repeated. "Maybe all of this...it's just a phase. I'll find my Doyle at Chilton, and then I'll realize that Susie was truly the only girl I loved. I'll be OK. And this will all just push down." She sighed, getting back to the well-worn copy of On the Road that her mother had given her five years ago...something about how one of her best friend's boyfriends really liked it and that he was still futilely convincing Paris of its greatness after thirty years. Gabriela needed the escape books gave her, and it was well-deserved tonight.
Meanwhile in the quiet living room, Paris looked at the portrait from 2016 that hung above the fireplace, of her, Doyle, Timóteo and Gabriela, along with Francisca, like she did every night, smiling in front of the camera, not a care in the world after Doyle got a wake-up call that family was more important than his growing fame. That tele-commuting his scripts was better in the long run than being seduced by the charms of Hollywood. Paris had also had a breakthrough that summer, realizing the last thing she wanted to be was a repeat of Sharon Gellar. She cut back her Dynasty Makers hours to common business hours after weeks and weeks of mediation and counseling with Doyle and deemed that she was done with in-home consultations with her West Coast clients. From now on, all her appointments were strictly office or online-only.
That declaration became permanent after she buried her husband and her son. She had never flown since. All of her travel was by car or train only, and Gabriela had also become fearful of planes. They had bonded together after circumstance had made them the last two standing in that picture, the widow and her daughter.
Paris looked at the picture, shaking her head. Moving close, she took in the features of her husband in the picture. His smile, his eyes, and his positive outlook on everything in life. He held Timóteo lightly, the boy gazing at what Paris remembered was a silly owl the photographer used to get a laugh out of the boy. She brushed the canvas with her fingers; the spot was somewhat worn from its former sheen to something dull from the many times Paris brushed her son's cheek.
"We're doing it, Doyle and Tey. We're...moving." She took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Back home to Hartford. We're going to Stars Hollow. Getting the picket fence, big yard, and happy neighbors we've always wanted. And right next to Lorelai too." She grimaced, continuing to brush the canvas. "I..I'm just sorry we couldn't do it with you alive." She shook her head, downcast. "But I promise you, I'm still coming to Terre Haute every six months to see you guys. El is too; we are never going to forget you. I promise you. And I'll love you both, always." Paris closed her eyes, and as she had done every evening since she buried her beloved men in Terre Haute's Highland Lawn Cemetery on that dreary Tuesday of June 18, repeated the same prayer she had done every night in Hebrew that she knew as well as the alphabet at this point
"God, full of mercy, who dwells in the heights, provide a sure rest upon the Divine Presence's wings, within the range of the holy, pure and glorious, whose shining resemble the sky's, to the souls of Timóteo McMaster-Gellar, the son of Doyle McMaster. Therefore, the Master of Mercy will protect them forever, from behind the hiding of his wings, and will tie their souls with the rope of life. The Everlasting are their heritage, and they shall rest peacefully upon their laying places, and let us say: Amen."
"Amen," she repeated one more time, laying a kiss upon her finger and placing it along another worn spot of the picture, upon Doyle's cheek. She would never change her rituals, no matter what, and every night, even in her worst moods, the two minutes she spent in that living room, with that picture, it was the center that calmed her and told her; life must go on.
She had continued her life from those horrible days, from the identification in Kay County, Oklahoma of those remains, and the long ride she insisted on taking through the heartland to meet Doyle's devastated parents in Terre Haute and bury their son as she tried to explain to her confused daughter that her daddy and her little brother were never coming back. She had grown to revere them and her twice-yearly visits to western Indiana every June 12 and January 12, and it was a ritual she would not change anytime soon in her move with Gabriela to Connecticut.
Paris's most immediate family may have mostly discarded her, but Francisca's family and the McMasters, along with Lorelai Gilmore, had made her feel like she did not need a blood bond for a family. Fran's influence in her life, from Gabriela being named for Francisca's own mother and one of the middle names she carried, to Timóteo being named for Francisca's hometown, was deep in her life. Fran's family still saw Paris regularly, and it was her granddaughter, Catarina, who had reared Gabriela after Francisca's death only three months after the plane crash from a heart attack, a young woman she hoped would come to Connecticut and continue to confide in her and Gabriela.
The older woman looked one last time at the picture, and turned away. Her hands shook, knowing that the safety of routine and her old life were beginning to wind down. They had kept her grounded after the crash, but they were now long distant. Gabriela was growing into a woman, and Paris knew from seeing her daughter that today, the status quo could no longer continue.
Paris had a feeling there was more to Gabriela's wounds than four girls confronting her. It had troubled her the last two years, as she noticed the girl was withdrawn from Hallston social life. But it didn't seem unexpected, as she had withdrawn from social life at Chilton just around the same time. But for Susie, a girl she knew since their days playing in the neighborhood park, to turn her back on her?
She didn't know why. And she had heard from Susie's parents that the girl was disobeying them too, so they could not comment themselves on what was occurring with their daughter.
But this was it. Hallston had promised her multiple times over the years that they would care for her child. That they would allow Gabriela to come home with a black eye without even the courtesy of telling her? That was beyond the pale.
As she heard the buzzer in front telling her the deliveryperson was ready with her cheeseburger mac, she was thankful that the late Headmaster Charleston had made Angelina Peters his successor. The woman was devoted to Chilton, devoted to her students, and with her ex-military background from the first Gulf War, knew every situation and how to be fair. Even in her advanced age, that she took on Gabriela with few questions asked...she was thankful she kept her former faculty advisor on her side
Later as she sat down with her food in the library on her queen bed while watching a Season 25 episode of Grey's Anatomy through Spectrum On-Demand (a show she and the world were convinced would only end when Ellen Pompeo either died on set or her eventual VR replacement with her voice, image, and mannerisms conked out), she knew that the next few months would definitely show how strong the relationship with her daughter was. She had to take a leading role when Doyle died and thought she had done a fair job at being a mother and a friend. Now she just had to prove that, beyond a doubt. She looked down at her tablet screen, at the cream house that would soon be hers. She already knew that the absurd low ceiling situation would have to be taken care of, but it was going to be a small cost.
"I'm tired of New York," she said, looking at the listings. "I'm done living for others. The both of us are going to live for ourselves, finally. To Stars Hollow, and a new beginning." She smiled, excited at a iMessage reply from Roberta, her main assistant at Dynasty Makers, had popped onto her screen, the first and closest person she had confided the move in.
Dr G.,
I'm in for Hartford if you're paying for the move. Consider this official. :)
"It's coming together," she said, wondering how the next two months would go as she began to see everything fall together for her and Gabriela.
To be continued...