Copyright for the story "Bag of Cookies" goes to Valerie Cox


Dec. 1st

Lorelai Gilmore got home from a long day at the Dragonfly. She was in her sixth month now and she was starting to feel tired faster. Luke and Sookie, her mother and basically the whole town were telling her to take it easy, but she wouldn't hear anything of it - though secretly she had to admit that sooner or later the day would come, when she couldn't work full hours anymore. But Lorelai preferred to ban that thought. Exiting her car she went to the mailbox and was surprised to find a little package in it, even more so to recognize the slender handwriting of her mother on it. Why was her mother sending her a package? Didn't they see each other every Friday night? She hadn't mentioned anything yesterday. Curiously Lorelai stepped into the house and ripped it open. A letter and a bag with cookies fell onto the table. Absent-mindedly she ate one of the delicious cookies, while reading the letter. Above some printed text her mother had written a note:

Dear Lorelai,

I hope you enjoy this.

Your mother

And below a printed story:

A bag of Cookies

A woman was waiting at an airport one night,
with several long hours before her flight.
She hunted for a book in the airport shops,
bought a bag of cookies and found a place to drop.

She was engrossed in her book but happened to see,
that the man sitting beside her, as bold as could be,
grabbed a cookie or two from the bag in between,
which she tried to ignore to avoid a scene.

So she munched the cookies and watched the clock,
as the gutsy cookie thief diminished her stock.
She was getting more irritated as the minutes ticked by,
thinking, "If I wasn't so nice, I would blacken his eye."

With each cookie she took, he took one too;
when only one was left, she wondered what he would do.
With a smile on his face, and a nervous laugh,
he took the last cookie and broke it in half.

He offered her half, as he ate the other;
she snatched it from him and thought... oooh, brother.
This guy has some nerve and he's also rude;
why didn't he even show any gratitude!

She had never known when she had been so galled,
and sighed with relief when her flight was called.
She gathered her belongings and headed to the gate,
refusing to look back at the thieving ingrate.

She boarded the plane, and sank in her seat;
then she sought her book, which was almost complete.
As she reached in her baggage, she gasped with surprise;
there was her bag of cookies, in front of her eyes.

If mine are here, she moaned in despair,
the others were his, and he tried to share.
Too late to apologize, she realized with grief,
that she was the rude one, the ingrate, the thief.

Just as Lorelai had reached the end, Luke stepped into the kitchen.

"I can't believe she's doing this," Lorelai exclaimed to a puzzled Luke.

"What? Who?" he asked, handing her a bag with pie and absent-mindedly caressing her growing belly.

"This!" Lorelai said, waving Emily's letter in front of him.

"Stop waving. How am I supposed to read this?" Luke replied, taking the letter from his wife. Lorelai impatiently waited for him to finish.

"So?" he said, not exactly knowing why Lorelai was so upset.

"So?" Lorelai repeated incredulously. "Why does she do this?"

"Are you asking me to understand the motives of Emily Gilmore? Then I'd say she sent it to annoy you and to soften the impact she threw the cookies in," he replied sarcastically.

"Very funny," Lorelai huffed.

"Oh come on, Lorelai. Why don't you see it as a nice thing?" he asked, trying to kiss her, but only reaching her cheek since Lorelai eyed the letter again.

"Because my mother always has ulterior motives. Haven't you learned anything?"

Luke stepped to the refrigerator to see what to make for dinner while Lorelai continued her ranting. "And what about that story? Nice way to tell me I'm rude, ungrateful and that it's too late to apologize," she added angrily, pacing the kitchen.

"Lorelai," Luke said, looking at her again. "Where does it say that you are these things?"

"The story, my friend, haven't you read it?" Lorelai said still aggravated.

"Of course, I have. But I don't remember that the woman was named Lorelai," Luke replied.

"Subtlety Luke, subtlety. That's the Gilmore way. I can't believe she's doing this. Now! We're getting along quite well and she starts this," Lorelai went on.

"Maybe she sees herself as the woman in the story?" Luke suggested.

"Luke – hello, it's my mother we're talking about," Lorelai replied. Sighing Luke took the letter again.

"She wants you to enjoy the story, not to get upset. See?" he said, pointing to Emily's note.

"Sarcasm Luke, sarcasm," Lorelai said. Luke put the letter on the table and started on the pasta he intended to make for dinner. Apart from slightly shaking his head he kept quiet. "What?" Lorelai demanded. "Talk to me, Luke," she said softer.

"Will you listen – I mean really listen?" he asked, turning around to face his wife. His beautiful wife, who looked even sexier when being upset with her blushed cheeks. She nodded. "I don't know why she's sending you this, but I don't see anything offending in it. Maybe you shouldn't jump to the worst conclusion, without any proof. It's a story – "

" – a weird story – " Lorelai chimed in.

" – a weird story, but I don't see her insulting you. Maybe it is just what she wrote – something for you to enjoy. Plus she sent you cookies," Luke said.

"Those were good, I have to admit that," Lorelai said reluctantly.

"See? Remember the cookies and forget about the rest," Luke said, turning to the stove again.

"And what do I say to her next Friday? Thanks for the weird story?" Lorelai asked.

"Maybe leave the weird out," Luke suggested smirking. Then he focused on his cooking again and Lorelai looked at the letter, pondering what her mother was up to.

"Luke?" she said after a while.

"Hmm?"

"You haven't greeted me properly," Lorelai pouted.

"That's because you were so upset, that you didn't have any time for your husband," Luke replied, getting closer to her.

"I have time now," Lorelai whispered, leaning in to greet him properly.