Note: Since these stories have been going on for a while now, it's important to note the timeline. This story begins the last week of October. Emily began working at the Dragonfly approximately the first week of October.

Chapter 1

You Bought a Person?

"Hello," smiled an exceedingly-perky blonde woman with a large rolling suitcase in one hand and an overstuffed brown leather bag tucked under her arm. Michel looked up at her slowly. "I'm here for the Montgomery-Bryan wedding," she announced.

"What is your last name?" Michel asked, looking at the computer screen.

"Sullivan," she chirped, still grinning vacantly.

Typing in her name, Michel checked and rechecked the reservation program, a frown appearing on his face. "I don't see your name in our system. Do you have a confirmation number perhaps?"

"No," she answered simply.

"Do you remember who you spoke with when you called to make a reservation?" he asked, knowing it couldn't possibly have been himself. It had to be Lorelai. Or Sookie. Someone else.

"Oh, I didn't call."

"Then how did you make your reservation?" he asked.

"I didn't," she smiled, her attitude beginning to annoy Michel.

"So, you don't have a reservation?"

"Nope," she confirmed.

"Yet you are here now wanting a room…" he opined. The young woman nodded.

As Michel pulled up a list of all reserved rooms, the front door opened and the Inn immediately filled with loud, angry voices.

"I don't care if you want to dance to 'Butterfly Kisses' with Mandy. I am not going to let you ruin what is set to be the reception of the year with your tacky taste in old music," the woman declared, marching into the reception area.

"It isn't tacky, Annette. It is a classic," the man argued, following close behind her, a valise in his hand and large garment bag slung over his shoulder.

"Oh please," she huffed. "It is a stupid, sappy, sentimental piece of musical crap."

"You always get like this when I want something." Dropping the case in his hand to the floor, the man straightened his tie. "We need to check-in," he informed Michel, not bothering to pay attention to the woman already at the desk.

"Bert," the lady scolded, "can't you see that Elaine is checking in right now?"

"Our daughter is getting married. I think that gives us the right to get our room and go upstairs. Besides, this damn dress weighs a hundred pounds." He adjusted the bag that he held over his shoulder.

"Bert," she repeated more sternly.

"It's okay," the young woman relented, stepping to the side. "I can wait." She took another step back, the smile on her face never wavering.

"The room is booked under the name Bert Montgomery," the man informed Michel.

"Ah, yes," Michel smiled politely, "you have a suite."

"I need another room," Mrs. Montgomery interrupted.

"No, we don't," Bert argued. "The one we booked is fine."

"I didn't say we need another room. I said I need another room," she repeated.

"What are you talking about now?" he sighed. "I just want to get to the room."

"And I want a divorce," she spat.

Michel remained in place, watching the implosion before him.

"I swear, Annette. You are the most dramatic woman I've ever met. I want to dance with our daughter on her wedding night and because you don't like the song, you want a divorce?"

"I want a divorce because I can't stand being married to a control freak who is having an affair with his secretary!" she declared, not seeming to notice the stares they were starting to attract.

"You are insane," he huffed.

"You aren't exactly denying the affair, are you?" she countered, her eyebrows raised.

At that moment, Lorelai and Emily both rounded the corner, coming upon the budding argument.

"If I weren't married to a cold bitch, then I might not need to turn to someone else for comfort."

"Comfort?" she laughed. "Yeah, that's what you turned to a twenty-two year old bimbo for, comfort."

"Michel…" Lorelai spoke, scanning her eyes from the sight before her to Michel, who was still glued to the exchange.

"She just told him she wants a divorce," Michel whispered, afraid to interrupt the Montgomerys.

"We have to do something to get them out of the front. People are starting to stare," Emily whispered, leaning closer to Lorelai and Michel.

"Our daughter is getting married in less than a week and yet you choose now to do this," Mr. Montgomery shook his head. "This is just like you."

"If you hadn't been a horny pig, we wouldn't be having this problem at all, would we?" she countered.

"I'll take the suite. Give her whatever other room you have," he spoke to Michel, not looking away from his wife.

Elbowing Michel to get him moving, Lorelai cleared her throat and he reluctantly moved back to the keyboard.

"I'll take the suite," Mrs. Montgomery insisted. "I need extra room for Mandy's gown."

"That's funny, considering I'm the one holding it," Bert laughed.

"That establishes nothing. I'm not leaving you alone in a room with that gown. There's no telling what you'd do with it, considering how little respect you have for marriage."

"I would never do anything to ruin our daughter's wedding," he objected.

"You know what?" Lorelai interrupted, unable to allow this to progress any further while in the main reception area. "We have another suite open. You can both have a suite." She gently pushed Michel aside and typed Mrs. Montgomery's name next to the empty suite. "Rooms 6B and 7A, Michel," Lorelai instructed as Michel moved to retrieve the keys.

Noticing that the two quarreling spouses were still staring each other down, Emily cleared her throat before speaking. "Why don't I take the dress for you both and put it in your daughter's suite? I'm sure that she'll want to keep an eye on it." Neither of them moved an inch. "I know I couldn't stop looking at my gown the whole week before my wedding," she finally added, hoping to persuade them.

"Yes, I'm sure Mandy is going to want to put it on tonight and make sure everything is perfect," Lorelai injected, taking the two keys from Michel. She had no clue if that was typical or not but she had to do something to get these two out of the lobby.

"I suppose you're right," Mr. Montgomery conceded, still glaring at his wife.

Lorelai rounded the front desk with the keys in her hand. "Mom, why don't you take the dress upstairs?" she suggested.

Emily moved towards Mr. Montgomery and took the dress from him. He finally looked away from his wife and smiled at Emily.

"My God, Bert, the woman already said she's married!" Mrs. Montgomery huffed.

"I was being polite, Annette!" he protested.

Quickly retreating from the lobby, Emily disappeared with the dress as Mrs. Montgomery called after her to be careful with it.

"Michel will show you both upstairs. If you'd like to leave your bags here, we'll have someone bring them up right away," Lorelai smiled, handing them each a key.

Watching as Michel led them from the lobby, Lorelai breathed a sigh of relief.

"Excuse me," came a perky voice. "I was waiting to check in."

"Oh!" Lorelai exclaimed. "I'm so sorry. What is your last name?"

"Sullivan." When Lorelai started to type something, she spoke up. "I don't have a reservation."

Lorelai stopped typing. She'd just given the last available room to the Montgomerys. "Give me just one second. Is that all right?" she asked nicely. The young woman nodded happily. Feverishly, she looked through all the possible rooms and double checked departure dates of various guests trying desperately to find a solution. After a few moments, she looked up. "We have one room left but it hasn't been cleaned yet. Would you perhaps like to have lunch in our dining room? We have a wonderful chef. He'll prepare anything you like."

"That's fine," the woman smiled. "Could I leave my bags somewhere?"

"Of course. I'll take them," Lorelai replied, moving from behind the counter to take her suitcase and leather tote. "Thank you for your patience."

"Sure," she chirped.

Lorelai held her forced smile until the woman disappeared and then her shoulders sagged as she dragged the suitcase into the luggage room. Now she had to go find Marie and tell her best maid that she'd given the girl's room to a guest.

Richard sat in the driver's seat of his silver Mercedes, parked in a short-term lot at Bradley International Airport. Usually, he would have his secretary drop him off yet things hadn't worked out this time and he'd decided to just pay the fee and leave his car at the airport. He had one final call to make before heading inside to check-in for his mid-afternoon flight.

Glancing down at the caller ID on her cell as it began to play 'Walk Like An Egyptian' by the Bangels, Lorelai pressed the green button and slid the phone up to rest between her shoulder and her ear. Typing something on the computer, her eyes scanned the screen as she greeted her father. "Mom isn't here, Dad. She had to go out."

"Actually, Lorelai, I was calling to speak to you," Richard corrected her, leaning back against his plush leather seat.

"Oh, ok," she replied cautiously, her fingers stopping for a few moments as she realized what her father was saying. "So, what's up?"

"You know that your mother's birthday is next month …"

"Uh, yeah, sure, Dad," she spoke, her eyes scanning the screen as she moved her right hand to grasp the mouse and save what she'd been working on before continuing.

Overlooking the fact that Lorelai had no clue about her mother's birthday, Richard continued. "Well, next month is your mother's birthday and I'd like to do something special for her."

"Yeah, I'm sure she'd like that," Lorelai spoke, only half-listening to her father.

"Your mother always forbids me from throwing her a party. However, I've decided that for once I am going to go against her wishes."

Lorelai let go of the mouse. "I don't know if that is a good idea, Dad. You know how Mom can get when she isn't happy…"

"I'm very well aware of what happens when your mother isn't happy. I do live with her, after all," he reminded her.

"Touché, Dad. Touché. The fact that you are still alive after all these years is a miracle to me."

Richard chuckled lightly. "I think your mother's displeasure will evaporate rather quickly when she finds out about the surprise I have arranged."

"I love surprises," Lorelai gushed. "What did you get her?"

"It's not what I got but rather who I got for your mother," he smiled, proud of himself.

Lorelai was silent for a moment. "You mean … you bought a person for Mom?"

Rolling his eyes, Richard rubbed his temple with his free hand. He'd forgotten how exasperating it could be to talk to Lorelai. "I did not buy a person, Lorelai. I arranged for your mother's sister to make a surprise visit for Emily's birthday."

Moving her hand to grab the phone, Lorelai switched it to the other ear. "You meant Auntie Hope is coming for a visit?" she asked jubilantly.

"She is coming for the entire week. It is the first time she's been back to the States in twenty years."

"Mom is going to be so surprised," Lorelai exhaled.

"Surprised about what?" Emily asked.

Shocked at the way her mother had suddenly appeared, Lorelai quickly turned to the side, stumbling as she tripped over her feet. "Uh, Mom, hey," she stuttered. "I'm just talking to Marie. She went to that etiquette class thing you suggested. I was just saying that you're going to be so surprised when you see how great she can set the table. She knows where to put the candlesticks and everything now."

Emily eyed her daughter cautiously. She could tell that Lorelai was lying to her but knew that she wasn't going to get anything out of her for now.

"Could I talk to Marie for a second?" she asked. "I need to remind her about an event for tomorrow." Emily held out her hand and motioned for Lorelai to give her the phone.

"She just hung up," Lorelai confirmed, flipping the phone shut and dropping it into her jacket pocket.

"Did she now?" Emily commented, smiling slyly.

"Yeah, I guess you'll have to talk to her later." Lorelai reached for the mouse and quickly went back to the occupancy report she'd been working on, trying to ignore her mother's lingering presence.

"I'll be sure to do that," Emily spoke, watching Lorelai's awkward behavior as she returned to the dining room.

Pulling her cell phone from her pocket, Lorelai quickly dialed her father's number. Ducking down, she cut him off before he could speak. "Sorry, Dad," she whispered.

"I figured your mother must have walked in," Richard noted as Lorelai confirmed his suspicion. "Why don't you stop by the house Friday morning? Your mother has a standing appointment to get her hair done on that day. She's had it for years. We know she'll be out then and we can discuss the details further."

"That sounds great. See you then," she confirmed, snapping the phone shut. As she stood up, she jumped back, surprised to find her mother standing in front of her. "Mom! My God! You scared me half to death!"

"Well, if you hadn't been hiding behind the desk …" Emily spoke flatly.

"I wasn't hiding … I … I dropped my phone," she fibbed, holding up the phone in her hand.

Emily smiled politely. Her daughter was clearly up to something. She'd learned after nearly forty years how to tell when Lorelai had something to hide. Yet she had also learned that she would never get whatever it was directly out of her daughter. She'd have to find another way. "Would you like to go over the schedule for this afternoon or is there something else you've dropped on the ground?"

"Nope," Lorelai confirmed cheerily, "I'm good."

Lorelai cringed as she walked up the stairs to Sookie's front door. The sounds of high pitched shrieking were getting louder and louder. With a sigh she reached out and rang the bell. The screeching continued. Lorelai's hands flew up to cover her ears and the noise reached ear-piercing levels as soon as the door opened. Sookie turned to her daughter. "Martha... Martha… Martha…" When the child didn't acknowledge her, Sookie bent over and looked at her closely. "Martha." The shrieking stopped briefly. "Mommy needs you to stop screaming now." The result was another high decibel scream. Sookie took a deep breath and looked at her daughter sternly. "Martha, Auntie Lorelai is here to see Mommy. You need to stop screaming."

Martha took a deep breath and shrieked even louder than before. Sookie covered the little girl's mouth with one hand and yelled at the top of her lungs, "Jackson!"

Poking his head out of the kitchen, he hollered back, "Yes!"

Sookie was still shouting over her daughter's muffled shrieks, "I need you to take Martha into her room please. Lorelai's here."

Silently nodding, he walked over and picked Martha up under one arm. As they headed down the hallway, the screaming grew further and further away but remained constant.

Sookie opened the screen door, reached out and removed Lorelai's hands from her ears.

"Is it safe now?" Lorelai asked.

"Yeah, Jackson took her to her room," Sookie answered shaking her head and rubbing her ears in an attempt to get the ringing sensation to stop.

"She may just have a career in horror movies, that one," Lorelai remarked as she walked over to the sofa and sat down. "She could give Jamie Lee Curtis a run for her money. The new scream queen."

"I just keep hoping she'll outgrow it," Sookie sighed flopping down in the overstuffed armchair, still rubbing her ears every so often. "What did you do with Rory at that age?"

Lorelai shrugged. "Rory wasn't really much of a screamer."

Sookie rolled her eyes. "Of course not, she's the perfect kid. She's the perfect kid. You're the perfect mother. It's my kids that are the spawn of Satan."

"I am hardly the perfect mother," Lorelai protested shaking her head.

Sookie countered, "Well, practically perfect."

"I'm not Mary Poppins either, though I did like that flying thing she did with the umbrella. Would save a lot of time in traffic."

The distant shrieking began to crack and sound scratchy. Sookie's eyes lit up. "Think she's losing her voice?"

Lorelai laughed lightly, "How long has she been going this time?"

"Nearly three hours, a new record."

"Well, she's persistent."

"Oh yeah," Sookie replied sarcastically, "like a toothache."

Lorelai chuckled as she reached into her purse, pulling out some papers and handing them to Sookie. "Here are this week's menus. Looks good to me, but what do I know?"

Sookie took the papers and began looking through them. When she reached the last pager, her head shot up. "Okay, this has got to be a joke, right?"

"What?" Lorelai frowned. Everything had looked okay to her and Chef Andy really seemed to be on top of things.

"He's got pigs-in-a-blanket on here for the Montgomery wedding. That cannot be right."

"No, it's right." Lorelai sighed with relief. "Seems they're the groom's favorite. It was the one thing he got to choose in the whole wedding."

Sookie shook her head, giggling. "Poor guy. Those Montgomerys are something, aren't they? Okay, I guess he gets his pigs-in-a-blanket."

"Probably the last thing he'll get a say in for the duration of the marriage," Lorelai quipped and both women laughed harder.

"Thanks for bringing these by the house. Things have been nuts around here today with Martha on her screaming kick and Davey running off to his friend Timmy's house without telling us. I really appreciate it."

"No problem," Lorelai smiled wistfully. "I miss you."

"I miss you too," Sookie replied with a slight pout then she quickly perked up. "Hey, how are things going with Emily? You're getting along okay, aren't you?"

"Yeah, we seem to have found a rhythm, I guess, though it still feels like we're on our best behavior or something. You know, not completely relaxed, but it's going better than I ever thought it would."

"Well that's a big step for you two." Sookie put the stack of menus down on the arm of the chair. "So, Andy seems to be doing well?"

"Yeah, he's great. The staff loves him. The guests love the food. His coffee isn't as good as yours, and he doesn't bake oatmeal cookies for me, but he seems to be a good fit."

"Yeah, I think we got a good one this time. Much better than that smarmy Frenchman who tried to put cumin in my pork sauce." Sookie was angry just thinking about it.

Lorelai laughed. "Did you know he wasn't even French? He was French Canadian. Michel got a lot of mileage out of that one."

"I'm sure he did," Sookie answered, her own giggles surfacing again. "You need to come by more often. I miss all the good stuff. What has Michel done lately?"

"Well, did I tell you about the guest he found barefoot in the upstairs hallway? I thought he was going to have apoplexy or something. I didn't know he had such a thing about feet."

Sookie laughed so hard she snorted then both women laughed even harder.

Emily sat in bed, the covers pulled up to her waist. She was clad in her favorite pair of silk pajamas, the remote in one hand and a book across her lap. Clicking through the channels, she discarded one show after the other. Nothing looked even semi-decent. Finally settling for a documentary airing on the History Channel, she dropped the remote on the bed next to her hip.

As the deep voice of the narrator played in the background, she looked down at her book. Taking a few moments to flip to the correct page, she reached out absently and took the glasses from her nightstand. Sliding them on her nose, she squirmed around for a second before finding a comfortable way to sit.

She didn't know how much time had passed but she didn't look up from her book until she heard the phone ringing. Glancing over at the clock on her nightstand, she smiled. It was precisely nine o'clock. She leaned a bit to the side and grabbed for the phone that was next to the clock. Pressing it to her ear, she pulled the glasses from her face.

"Hello," she smiled, reaching down with her other hand for the TV remote to mute it.

"Hello," came Richard's velvety voice.

"How was your flight?" Emily asked.

"It was fine. We were delayed by an hour due to a maintenance issue. However, it worked out because the rooms were not yet ready when we got there."

"I hope you didn't have to wait too long," Emily commented, leaning back against the pillows and closing her eyes as she listened to the sound of his voice.

"No," Richard assured her. "Floyd and Marjee went to the hotel bar to get some dinner. I had a drink with them and then went upstairs when my room was ready."

"You haven't eaten?" Emily asked, running her hand absently over the pattern of the comforter as it covered her lower body and stopped at her waist.

"Well, it is only six o'clock here, so I will eat in a bit. I may order room service and stay in tonight. I have a lot of paperwork to review for the meeting tomorrow morning."

"I hate that you are in San Francisco and you aren't even going out for the evening," she sighed. "I know how you love to walk around Fisherman's Wharf and see the cable cars turn around at the end of the line."

"Perhaps tomorrow," Richard commented. "You sound tired," he prompted her.

"A bit," she admitted. "I'm actually lying in bed with the TV on and reading for my book club."

"I thought you had decided to stop going to those meetings…"

"I did," Emily sighed, "but then I ran into Teensy McMahon this week and she is hosting the next meeting. They are reading the Divine Comedy and she asked if I would provide some historical background to set the stage for why Dante wrote it. She was so polite and even mentioned that she remembered I'd studied fourteenth century European history at Smith. I couldn't say no after that."

"Your book club is reading the Inferno?" Richard asked, an air of amusement in his voice.

"Yes, they are a rather varied group. Last month's selection was Jonathan Swift's A Modest Proposal."

"You are not serious," Richard insisted.

"The month before that was Sophocles' Oedipus the King," she grinned.

"Now I know you are messing with me," Richard teased. "The ladies of the DAR would never read such scandalous works of literature."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Emily replied. "We've been known to be a bit risqué. You surely remember the time Greta Von Arend tried to organize a conga line."

"The Conga isn't that risqué," Richard informed her dryly.

"It is when three women in it aren't wearing blouses," Emily laughed.

"What?" Richard's interest was suddenly sparked.

"I guess you weren't there that night," Emily commented. "You missed quite a show," she giggled.

"I think perhaps I should attend more of these functions," Richard suggested. "This Greta … is she still a member?"

"Very funny," Emily huffed, stifling a yawn.

Hearing her yawn and the fatigue in her voice, Richard suggested, "Why don't you go to sleep? I'll call you tomorrow after my meeting."

"All right," Emily agreed.

"I'm sorry that I'm not at home with you," Richard sighed.

"Me too," Emily agreed. "I've been home alone all night."

"Well, I'll be back in a few days. You won't be alone then," he smirked, his voice low and sensual.

"I'm looking forward to it," she grinned. After exchanging the perfunctory 'I love you's and 'goodnight's, Emily hung up the phone. She then shut off the bedside lamp and reached for the remote. Clicking off the TV, she put her book on the nightstand and settled back against the pillows. It took her no more than a few minutes to drift off to sleep.