Floating, Falling
He wasn't sure if this was what he was supposed to do. She hadn't really asked him to, so he could be really wrong. She can send me home, he thought as he stepped into the shower and tipped his head back under the spray. Things had been okay today. Better than okay, almost normal, he told himself. Better than normal. Lorelai had come in for breakfast lunch and dinner that day.
As he trudged home through the darkened streets early that morning to meet his bread supplier, he wasn't sure if she would come in at all. But she did. At first she seemed a little subdued. Shy, he corrected himself. She'd been a little shy at first, but a cup of coffee and an extra chocolate chip pancake added to her stack had quickly cured that.
"What's this for?" she asked as she smiled up at him.
"I had extra batter," he said with a shrug, busying himself with refilling the dish on the counter with packets of sugar.
"Extra batter?" she asked with a knowing smile.
He shrugged again, fighting back his own smile as he abandoned the sugar and turned toward the kitchen. "I was up early," he said nonchalantly.
"Score! Hey, while you're feeling generous, how about a refill?" she called after him.
"I'm over it now," he answered as he disappeared into the kitchen.
"Luke," she groaned. Her scowl turned upright as soon as he reappeared and lifted the pot from the burner. "You are an angel," she breathed as he filled the mug with steaming black gold.
"And don't you forget it," he mumbled and then went make his rounds.
Yes, she had been a little shy at first, but he had known she would be. Luke reached for the bar of soap and began to quickly lather his body. Lorelai wasn't one to pour her emotions out to anyone. Neither was he. And he had to admit that he had felt a little nervous about seeing her. He could only recall two other times when he had seen Lorelai so upset, and both times, it almost killed him. The first was after Rory's dad bailed on her once again, the next was when she crumpled onto a park bench and wept openly, terrified that her dream was slipping through her fingers. The first, he had soothed with a donut and a tacit agreement to cease hostilities. The second, he had held her in her arms while he mentally calculated his bank balances, shifting finances around in his head so that it would be possible to write her a check the very next day. But I can't fix this with donuts and checks. I can't fix this at all. Only Lorelai could fix this. Well, Lorelai and Rory, he amended as he stood under the spray, rinsing the lather from his body.
He had been surprised but happy when she breezed through the door a few hours later proclaiming, "I could eat a cow! I need dead cow now!"
"Sounds delicious," he had grumbled.
"It is," she concurred as she slid onto her favorite stool and beamed up at him. "Delicious, hot, juicy beef served on a nice firm bun and smothered in cheesy goodness."
"Firm?" he asked with an amused smile.
Lorelai glanced around to see if they could be overheard. "Very firm," she whispered suggestively, batting her eyelashes a bit for good measure.
Luke snorted. "Coming up. Fries or rings?" he asked as he headed for the grill.
"Oh, no onions for me, thanks," she replied with a dismissive wave of her hand.
"Fries it is."
"With chili and cheese!" she added, craning her neck to peek into the kitchen.
"May as well have the onions," Luke grumbled to himself as he dropped some fries into the hot grease.
He'd risked a peek around the corner and saw her smiling and chatting with Gypsy as only Lorelai could smile and chat with the smart-mouthed mechanic. It was good to see her smiling and chatting. He liked to see her smiling and chatting. A few minutes later, he flipped her burger and chanced another peek, only to see her throw her head back and laugh at something Miss Patty had said as she passed. He felt a brief moment of panic, and wondered if they were talking about him. Then he exhaled slowly as Lorelai launched into a story about their horse Cletus' most recent escapade. Luke chuckled to himself, having heard the whole story the previous night. Before the crying. Before the crying they had laid with their legs tangled up with each other's talking and laughing, teasing and kissing. It had been good. Really good. After plating her burger, he tossed some crispy golden fries onto another plate before smothering them in chili and topping the whole disgusting concoction with shredded cheese. And that's when he had realized that the crying may not have been a bad thing.
She needed to get it out. I needed to hear it, even if there was nothing I can do to help her. He stared down at the suds swirling around his toes and reminded himself that he couldn't always help her, even though that was what he wanted to do with every fiber of his being. Lorelai is perfectly capable of helping herself, he told himself sternly. I just need to stay out of it, just be there for her; just hang onto her as she figures it all out.
Luke rinsed the last of the soap from his body and shut off the water as he snaked a hand out from around the curtain and groped for his towel. He dried off quickly and wrapped the towel around his waist as he stepped from the tub. He bent over the sink as he reached for his razor and prepared to scrape the day's stubble from his cheeks and chin. He smirked at his reflection, knowing that it was that magical beginning-of-the-relationship glow that forced him into a closer acquaintance with his disposable Schick and the often neglected can of Barbasol in his medicine cabinet. But, if it meant he got to spend an evening kissing Lorelai Gilmore, it was totally worth it as far as he was concerned.
As he scraped the razor through the shaving cream, he pictured her as she had been at dinner; her head bent over a legal pad, picking at her grilled cheese sandwich as she and Sookie went over the list of last minute things to do before the inn officially opened in three days. Not surprisingly, she had been distracted, favoring him with absent smiles as he delivered their food and gave refills without asking. He'd patently ignored Sookie's waggling eyebrows and knowing looks, seeking refuge behind his counter when he wasn't seeing to the needs of the rest of the dinner crowd. He watched as they gathered their things and stood to leave.
Sookie trailed Lorelai to the counter, unable to suppress her grin as he waved off Lorelai's request for their check with a gruff, "Protecting my investment."
Lorelai turned back to look at him as they opened the door and simply said, "See you later."
"See you later," he had answered with a nod, not knowing if it was a request or simply her way of saying goodnight.
So, here he was, freshly showered and shaved, his damp hair clinging to his neck as he ran a comb through it, preparing to show up at her door, unsure if he had been invited or not. He knew that he could simply call her and try to get a feel for if it was an invitation or not. Hell, he could just call her and ask her outright if she wanted him to come over. But, a part of him didn't want to do that. He wanted to see her. He wanted to spend time with her, to kiss her, to feel her snuggle up against him like she had last night and this morning. He knew that it probably wasn't fair or right, but that part of him knew that if he simply showed up at her door, it would be harder for her to send him away than if he called.
He dressed quickly, pocketed his wallet and keys and minutes later walked the darkened streets of Stars Hollow. It was only when he climbed her porch steps that he began to feel a bit of remorse for forcing the situation. He hesitated as he raised his fist to knock on the frosted glass, but somehow could not keep his knuckles from rapping against it. When she opened the door a minute later dressed in thin cotton pajama pants and a tank top and clutching a bowl of popcorn, he stepped back slightly and ducked his head.
"I wasn't sure if that was a see you later, 'See you later' or just, 'See you later'," he admitted quietly.
Lorelai smiled brightly as she reached for his wrist and pulled him through the door. "You're just in time, Blazing Saddles is on." Luke smiled his relief as he followed her into the living room. She pointed to a smaller bowl of popcorn on the coffee table and said, "I left some unbuttered for you. Shoes off and feet up," she ordered as she flopped down onto the couch.
Luke did as he was told, settling into the corner of the couch. Lorelai dropped the smaller bowl between his splayed legs and then curled up against him, clutching her own bowl as she turned her face up for a kiss. He happily obliged and then glared at the over-buttered, over-salted imploded corn kernels in her bowl. "Next time I'll bring over a spare set of arteries for you," he told her with a pointed look.
"Would ya? That would be nifty," Lorelai said with a grin as she tossed a few kernels into her mouth.
He simply shook his head and turned his attention to the screen. He grabbed a handful of his own healthier snack and tipped his head back as he said, "This is a funny movie."
Lorelai beamed as he dumped the popcorn into his mouth. She watched him chew for a moment and then turned back to the television as she murmured, "I knew there was a reason that I liked you."
"Yeah?"
"Mel Brooks and me, you have excellent taste," she said as she patted his knee.
Luke smirked as he looked down at the greasy fingerprints on his clean jeans. "Feel free to use me as your napkin," he grumbled, fighting back a genuine smile.
"Thanks, I will," she answered and then proceeded to munch on a few more buttery kernels before turning and wiping her mouth on his flannel.
****
Emily cradled her glass of Perrier, lacing her fingers together as she sat back and watched her sister and her granddaughter interact. Enthralled. That was the perfect word for them, she decided. And they were. Hope recounted adventure after adventure, indulging Rory's natural curiosity throughout their leisurely lunch, as Hope hung on Rory's every word, quizzing her great-niece about her every hope, dream and ambition. And why wouldn't they be enthralled with each other? Look at them. Rory's so young, so bright; the whole world at her feet. And Hope. Hopie, she thought with a sigh as she studied her younger sister. She had to bite back a smile as Hope absently tucked her sleek silver hair behind one ear and leaned in closer to Rory. She drank in the sight of her baby sister; marveling at the smooth silver fall of her stylish bob, the fetching way that the delicate webbing of tiny lines fanned around her warm brown eyes, her remarkably unfurrowed brow, and the bright flashing smile that was so breathtakingly like Lorelai's. How have I never seen that before? Maybe it's because this is the first time I have ever seen Hope with Rory, she mused as she placed her glass on the table and leaned forward, completely enthralled with the two of them together.
"And boyfriends? Do you have a special young man in your life?" Hope asked, her eyes lighting mischievously.
"Oh, uh, no. No one special," Rory answered a little too quickly. Emily brow puckered as she saw her vivacious granddaughter shut down before her very eyes.
"Oh, well, it's just as well. You're far too young to be tied down by something as fickle as love," Hope said with a lilting laugh. But her quick glance at her older sister told Emily that she had seen it too. "I didn't marry until I was well into my thirties, and even then poor James had to drag me to the altar kicking and screaming."
"Please, you were head over heels for the man. Still are," Emily added softly.
Hope shared a knowing smile with her sister, but her sunny disposition was unaltered by the mention of her late husband. "I was and am," she admitted to Rory conspiratorially. "He was the only man on earth who could possibly have put up with me."
"How did you meet him?" Rory asked, happy to deflect the spotlight.
"Oh, well, I was living here in Paris," Hope began.
"And everywhere else," Emily chimed in.
"Fine. I was headquartered here in Paris," Hope said as she rolled her eyes dramatically. "Your grandmother and I had each been left a tidy little nest egg by our dotty old Aunt Cora," she said with a naughty gleam in her eyes, daring her sister to contradict her assessment. When Emily held her tongue, Hope smiled. "I ran away to Europe, intent on becoming Leslie Caron, and your grandmother bought savings bonds, I do believe," she said teasingly.
"Treasury Bonds," Emily corrected automatically. "Richard invested it in Treasury Bonds."
Hope giggled and said, "I invested a good chunk of mine in wine." She sat back, pushing a hank of shining platinum hair behind her ear. She saw Rory's gaze drift to the large diamond drop earring that dangled from her ear and smiled delightedly, "Obscene, aren't they? These were a bribe."
"A bribe?"
"I find that once you turn down a man's third marriage proposal, they get a little desperate."
"You're shameless," Emily chastised her gently.
"No, I simply wasn't ready to be married," Hope said firmly. "Anyway, I was living in Paris working as a tour guide during the day and living la vie boheme at night." Hope waggled her suggestively, causing Rory to giggle and Emily to sigh. "I was just launching into my daily spiel on inspired gothic architecture and Notre-Dame de Paris, bathering on and on about restorations and stained glass," she continued with a dismissive wave of her hand. "I was walking backwards, my audience hanging on my every word," she let the story build, smiling as she saw that her great-niece was hanging on every word too. "And then I stepped on his toes," she announced triumphantly.
"You always were a bit clumsy," Emily said with a fond smile.
Hope laughed. "It's true. Mother was so thankful that I made it through my curtsy without falling flat on my face," she admitted.
"And then what happened?" Rory asked, anxiously awaiting the rest of the story.
"And then I looked up to see that I had assaulted the most handsome man I had ever laid eyes on," Hope answered with a dreamy smile, looking every bit the smitten young woman she had been that long ago afternoon.
"An Earl," Emily added with a nod.
"A minor Earl," Hope said with a dismissive laugh.
"He was listed in Debrett's," Emily argued.
Hope rolled her eyes dramatically and said, "That means nothing. I believe that Elton John is listed in there now." She folded her arms on the table and leaned closer to Rory. "He was incredible. Wasn't he, Emily?"
"Very handsome," Emily concurred.
"Tall and slender, with broad shoulders and that touch of Cary Grant grey around the temples. Of course, he was much too old for me," she said coquettishly.
"Not that it stopped you," Emily murmured.
"Nothing could have stopped me. Coup de fondre!" she said with a beatific smile.
"But you wouldn't marry him?" Rory asked with a puzzled frown.
"Oh no! That would have ruined everything. You see, James was only supposed to be in France for six weeks. He was in banking, international finance, actually. Hard to believe that such a vibrant, dynamic man could spend his days stuffed into a pin striped suit sitting behind a desk messing about with numbers," she mused. "No, I wouldn't marry him, but that didn't mean I didn't set out to make him mine. He was a widower with a nearly grown son off at school, I was a young American girl turned loose in Paris. I led him down the primrose path, plying him with cheap wine in tiny cafes, feeding him stinky cheese and rich dark chocolate in my modest little flat, peeling him grapes as he lay panting for more, of everything," she said breathlessly.
"Hope!" Emily admonished.
"Oh, Emily, she's not a child," Hope replied mildly. She turned back to Rory and gave her a bawdy wink. "It was all terribly decadent."
As Rory glanced from her grandmother to her great-aunt and back again, Emily chuckled and said, "Yes, we did have the same parents, but I'm not entirely certain that Hopie wasn't adopted."
"Yes, I am the proverbial black sheep and proud of it," Hope confirmed, proudly tossing her shining silver hair. "James stayed for six weeks, returned to England and then he returned to France within the month. He moved his offices to Paris and we were together from that moment on. When I traveled, he traveled. When he worked, I kept the gorgeous little flat he bought for us. When he proposed, I turned him down. You see, pledging to love him for the rest of my life seemed utterly unnecessary to me. I was his and he was mine, and that's all there was to it."
"But you finally said yes," Rory prodded.
"I did," Hope said with a sad smile. "We had been together for six glorious years, not bad?" she asked with a very gallic shrug of her slender shoulders. "We had six wonderful years," she murmured. She took a sip of the wine that had sat long forgotten on their table and then plastered that bright smile onto her face as she said, "James became ill, and well, he wanted me to be his Lady."
"Oh," Rory whispered.
"Oh, now do not be sad for me, you beautiful girl," Hope said as she reached out to caress Rory's cheek. "I had the love of my life," she said with a small shrug. "That's more than anyone could ask for."
And for the first time since the threesome greeted each other with continental kisses, the table fell silent. Hope glanced at Emily and then at Rory as they each drifted off into their own troubled thoughts. When the silence became unbearable, she smiled again and said, "I had an e-mail from Jimmy just the other day. The grandchildren are flourishing, the dogs are barking, and his boring English wife is just as plump and pleasing as ever."
"Oh, Hope, you are incorrigible. Lucy is a lovely girl," Emily said clucking her tongue.
"Your grandmother adores my step-son and daughter-in-law. They are the epitome of her idea of British gentry; right out of a Jane Austen novel," she whispered. "They really are lovely, if not a tad stifled. Now, I suppose that we have tarried for far too long, even by French standards," she told them brusquely. She turned to Rory and asked, "You have your guide books?"
"I do," Rory confirmed.
"Marvelous! You've spent far too long indulging two old women. Go! Be free! Take Paris by storm and make sure you step on some devilishly handsome creature's toes," she said as she shooed Rory from her chair.
Rory stood up, blinking rapidly as she tried not to think about the young man she had crushed in the Louvre the previous day. "Will I see you again before we leave?" she asked Hope.
"Oh, undoubtedly. We have loads of catching up to do, you and I," Hope assured her.
"That's great," Rory said with a genuine smile as she bent to kiss Hope's proffered cheek. She turned to Emily and said, "I'll be back before dinner time."
"Be careful, and don't just take any available taxi cab…" Emily began.
"Oh Emily, she'll be fine. Go! Run! Hurry while I distract your grandmother with my new Chanel bag," Hope said as she reached for her handbag and hoisted it threateningly.
Rory kissed her grandmother's cheek and then wove her way between the tables as she heard Emily say, "That is lovely, but I could never carry a purse so small."
Hope signaled for the check. "Nonsense. Nothing has changed, all you need is a compact, a lipstick and a dime to call home in case of emergency," she said as she rummaged for her compact and lipstick. "Now buy me lunch and we'll plunder the shops while you tell me what brings you to Paris."
****
It hadn't been a good day. First, his idiot of a new assistant booked the wrong tee time for the morning round of golf he and Floyd planned to use to woo a potential new client, and then he shot a terrible round. And at lunch, Floyd in his typical condescending manner made an embarrassing off-hand remark about Emily's inability to keep a maid, which forced him to defend her by explaining that his wife had impeccable taste and very exacting standards. He arrived home that evening to a meal of tasteless fish served on a bed of bland rice. He was beginning to suspect that Emily had purposefully prepared a menu of inedible meals for the inept maid she had left behind to torment him. The imbecile couldn't even manage to locate his dry cleaning.
Richard splashed scotch into a tumbler and carried it to his desk. He flipped through the enormous rolodex that Emily compulsively maintained and flipped through the index until he located the telephone number for the Hôtel de Crillon de Paris. He sat back in his chair and sipped his scotch, tapping his favorite fountain pen against his blotter.
"Yes, Mrs. Richard Gilmore's room, please," he said impatiently once the operator came on the line. He waited for a moment, his brows drawing together as he listened to the heavily accented woman claim that there was no guest registered under that name. He huffed and said, "Emily Gilmore, Mrs. Emily Gilmore." He waited a moment more and then his pen stilled as he blinked in confusion. "Yes, yes, thank you," he said as he gently replaced the receiver.
He opened his humidor and selected his after dinner cigar. Rolling it between his fingers, he studied the cigar as if were the first he had ever seen. Emily always stayed at the Hôtel de Crillon when they were in Paris. It never occurred to him to ask for an itinerary, his Emily was a creature of habit. His Emily was comfortable there, the staff knew her likes and dislikes and catered to them relentlessly, she liked to have her evening cocktail ensconced in a plush red velvet chair in the hotel bar.
Where could she be? Surely they wouldn't stay at Hope's, he thought with a frown. He knew Emily well enough to know that as much as she adored her sister, the two were like oil and water when it came to co-existing. The Ritz? The Plaza Athenee? The San Regis? How dare she take off to Europe without at least leaving her emergency contact information, he fumed as he cut the end from the cigar. He bit down on it and lit a wooden match; inhaling the strong scent of sulfur as it flamed. He dropped it into the large crystal ashtray that the maid cleaned and returned to his desk each morning, and watched as the last of the smoke dissipated. He drew on the cigar crossing his eyes to watch the tip glow orange red in the semi-darkened room.
No, I won't chase her around Europe, tracking her down like a lovesick suitor. All he wanted was his grey suit. And to know where she is. After all, it's only reasonable that he should be concerned; Emily had never traveled on her own. And now, she had Rory with her. A man had a right to know if his beloved granddaughter was safe and sound, did he not? he told himself. Clamping the cigar between his teeth, he flipped through the rolodex until he located his sister-in-law's home telephone number. His hand rested on the receiver as he stared at the card graced with Emily's beautiful penmanship. Hope. Maybe Hope can talk some sense into her, he thought as he slowly withdrew his hand. Perhaps Hope can find his Emily. Richard sat back in his chair, telling himself that he'd have his idiot of a new assistant call around tomorrow to find his cleaning. He hoped that Hope could bring her back, because as much as he wanted his grey suit, he wanted Emily more.
****
"I bought you a toothbrush," Lorelai said as she emerged from the bathroom.
"You did?"
"Yes. I felt it was time to reclaim mine," she said as she held up a toothbrush with a blue handle. "Blue is for boys."
Luke rolled his eyes and said, "I did not use your toothbrush."
Lorelai gasped and asked, "You haven't brushed your teeth for the past two nights?"
"Well, I, uh, you know, with the toothpaste," he mumbled as he held up his index finger.
Lorelai smiled and held up the toothbrush as she leaned against the doorjamb. "I bought you a toothbrush."
"Thank you," Luke said as he reached for it, and for her. He kissed her softly and then stepped around her into the bathroom.
Lorelai turned and leaned her head against the door as she watched him squeeze toothpaste onto the brush. "You supervisin'?" he asked as he lifted the brush to his lips.
"Yep, gotta be sure you don't revert to finger brushing," she said with a nod. Luke rolled his eyes and braced one hand on the vanity as he began to brush. Lorelai stood where she was, watching the muscles in his arms and back tense and flex under his t-shirt. "I like having you here," she said quietly.
Luke looked up, not sure if he had heard her correctly over the running water. When his eyes met hers, he nodded slightly and then bent down to spit into the sink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked up at her as he said, "I like being here."
Lorelai grinned as she picked up the hand towel she had dropped on the counter and offered it to him. "You're such a guy."
Luke smirked and asked, "Weren't you the one wiping your buttery lips all over my shirt?"
"You liked that," she said, backing up as he tossed the towel to the vanity once more and advanced on her.
He shrugged noncommittally and said in a soft, deep voice, "And you like that I'm such a guy."
"Boy, do I," Lorelai answered. Luke placed his hand in the center of her back, spreading his fingers wide as he held her firmly, but didn't pull her to him. He walked her slowly back into the bedroom, and Lorelai smiled up at him as she looped her arms around his neck. She glanced down at the space between their bodies and was reminded of the dance they shared at Liz and T.J.'s wedding. "Are we dancing?" she whispered.
Luke didn't reply. Instead, he kept his eyes locked on hers as he lifted his left hand, offering her his palm. Lorelai's smile grew as she lowered her right hand and daintily slipped her fingers into his hand. His long fingers closed around hers, but he did not lead her in a waltz. He moved slowly and steadily, shuffling her back toward the bed, his intense blue gaze never wavering. Once they reached the bed, he pressed his fingers into her back, urging her closer to him. He kissed her, pulling her even closer as his hand slid to her hip, his fingers curling into the thin cotton of her pajama pants. He angled his head, taking the kiss deeper, holding her to him as his tongue tangled with hers.
Using the momentum of his body, he pushed her back onto the bed, crawling up over her as he kissed her over and over again. Soft, slow kisses; long, lingering kisses; kisses so filled with barely tempered passion that Lorelai felt as if her body might combust from the heat of them. But, he held his body far above hers, not willing to risk the contact.
He pulled away, exhaling softly as he ran his hand over her hair, letting it trail lightly over the curls that tapered down over her shoulder and arm. "We should get ready for bed, it's late and I have to be up early."
"Tease," she murmured as she looked up at him, her eyes drowsy with desire.
"Gotta keep you interested," he answered and then kissed her sweetly.
"Oh, I'm interested," she said in a breathy voice as she arched toward him and pulled him down to kiss him again.
Luke groaned as he deepened the kiss and Lorelai buried her hands in his hair. When he pulled away, as breathless as he was that first night at the Dragonfly, he blinked slowly and then asked, "Wanna have dinner with me tomorrow night?"
"Dinner?"
"That's the one that comes a few hours after lunch," he explained helpfully.
"Ah, yes, I remember now." Lorelai said as she nodded at him sagely, still lost in his eyes.
When she still failed to answer, Luke stared down at her and said, "I was asking you on a date."
"Oh, yes," Lorelai said with a quick laugh. "Sorry, yes," she repeated as she plucked at the sleeve of his t-shirt.
He smiled and let his weight carry him forward until their lips met in a soft kiss. "I'll cook for you. At my place. Bring your toothbrush," he said quietly.
****
They strolled along, feigning avid interest in the tempting window displays offering luxuries that most cannot afford and absolutely no one needs. Hope remained quiet, her arm linked firmly through her older sister's as she waited patiently for Emily to talk about anything but handbags and Chanel suits. They peered into the windows Van Cleef & Arpels, and she waited as something caught Emily's eye.
"See something you like?" Hope asked quietly as Emily stared at a tiny pin shaped like an apple and encrusted with rubies.
"Hopie, I think my marriage is over," Emily spoke softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Hope couldn't have been more shocked if Emily had dropped an atom bomb on her. "Oh, nonsense, Em, I've never known two people more well-suited for one another than you and Richard."
Emily shook her head slowly, her eyes still fixed on the apple. "No, not anymore."
"You've hit a difficult patch, you've had them before, you'll find your way back," Hope replied, ever the optimist.
Emily turned to Hope and said, "He doesn't see me anymore."
Hope smiled reassuringly and said, "Of course he does, Em, he adores you, he always has."
Emily stiffened and began to move away from the window, leaving her sister in her wake. "You don't understand."
"Yes I do," Hope protested as she hurried after her.
"How could you possibly understand? You were married for six months!"
"I was married for seventeen months, one week and two days," Hope corrected her. "And I've loved a man I couldn't have for thirty more years." When she saw a slight hesitation in Emily's step, Hope swooped in. "Thirty years, Emily. Thirty years of missing him, wanting him, and needing him. You have had those thirty years and now you're telling me that you're giving up? That he doesn't 'see you' anymore? Make him see you, dammit!" she demanded as she grasped Emily's arms and forced her to face her. "Stand on your head, run naked through the streets, do whatever it takes, Emily," she hissed vehemently.
"Hope, you're hurting me," Emily said as she glanced down at her sister's hands.
"You have the life you always dreamed of, even when we were little. A life of order, a lovely life. A home to run, a child, a grandchild," Hope said softly as she loosened her grip.
"And I've done such a wonderful job at that," Emily said derisively.
"You have! You have! Look at that wonderful girl, Em! Did you want Lorelai to have a child so young? No, of course not, but look at what an amazing job she has done. You did that. You made that possible!"
"I believe that Lorelai would beg to differ," Emily said stiffly.
Hope laughed and shook her head. "Of course she would. I would never have admitted to mother that I should have married James the day that I met him. Never in a million years." She looked around as the afternoon shoppers eddied around the island they had created on the sidewalk. "To hell with propriety, it's five o'clock somewhere. Let's find a real drink and you can tell me everything," she said as she linked her arm through Emily's once more and propelled her along the sidewalk.
**
They ended up in the bar of the Hôtel de Crillon, cradling martini glasses as they sank back on the crushed red velvet upholstery. "I've always loved this bar. It seems so decadent," Emily mused as she sipped her drink.
Hope's tinkling laugh filled the almost deserted space as she cast a loving gaze on her elder sister. "Ah, Emily, if only you knew what decadent truly is."
Emily rolled her eyes and said, "I don't want to know."
"I know." Hope nodded her understanding, and then ran her fingertip around the rim of her glass. "Tell me," she prompted quietly.
"Richard has been having lunch," she said, adding a derisive note to the word, "with Pennilyn Lott once a year, every year, for the entire time we've been married."
Hope smirked and said, "Ahh. Lynnie Lott. Is she still as dull as a box of rocks?"
"Did you hear me?" Emily demanded.
"Yes, Em, I heard you. Your husband has been having lunch with his old flame once a year for almost forty years. The bastard," she added as she saluted Emily with her drink.
"He lied to me. He deliberately kept this from me!"
"Of course he did," Hope answered, raising her eyebrows. "If I were having lunch with Lynnie Lott once a year, I never would have told you either. For some reason you find that insipid woman threatening."
"She's been seeing my husband behind my back!"
"And seducing him over cobb salad?"
"Lunch. He thinks I don't know what lunch means?" Emily fumed. "I know all about those lunches. Martini soaked flirtation followed by a quick roll in some tawdry motel room," she hissed.
Hope's eyes widened as she sat up and leaned forward. "You have evidence that he's been having an affair?" she asked, truly shocked.
"Evidence? What evidence do I need?"
"Well, the usual. Motel receipts, lipstick on his collar, perfume on his clothing, I don't know. Whatever evidence that comes along with the martinis, salads and tawdry motel rooms," Hope said with an easy shrug.
"Do not dismiss me," Emily snapped. "Do not speak to me as if I am crazy. I'm not crazy!"
"I wasn't dismissing you, Emily," Hope replied calmly. "I simply was asking what evidence of infidelity you have unearthed. Although, I must say, once a year… Richard's sex drive is not what I had hoped it would be for your sake," she commented as she took a sip of her martini, staring at her sister pointedly over the rim of her glass.
"Why has he lied to me? Why did he hide it from me?"
"Perhaps because he knew that the woman makes his normally rational wife completely irrational. She always has, Emily, and I could never understand why."
"Why? He almost married her!"
"But he married you. He chose you, and dumped her flat after the invitations had already been sent out. As a matter of fact, I'm surprised that she would even want to have lunch with him. That just proves how spineless she truly is," she said with a smirk.
"Or that she wants revenge."
"So, for thirty some odd years she has been systematically wearing Richard down with lunches in order to lure him into her bed so that she can get back at you? I wonder how long it takes; Richard always has been very methodical."
"Stop making fun of me," Emily said snippily.
"Oh, Emily I don't mean to poke fun, but really, I don't think that you have anything to be worried about. Sometimes lunch is simply lunch."
"He has changed so much over this past year. The business, the partnership, entertaining clients without my help," Emily said as she stared sulkily into her drink.
"Ah, now we're getting somewhere," Hope murmured.
"So self-absorbed, so blind to everyone and everything."
"Meaning you and what you need," Hope said softly.
Emily blinked back tears as she focused intently on the glass in her trembling hand. "He missed Sweetie's funeral to play golf with a client," she whispered.
Hope reached across the table and gently removed the glass from Emily's hand. She placed it on the low table between them and then took that trembling hand in both of hers. "And that was wrong. He should have been there for you."
"He wasn't. And then, when his mother died…" Emily said as she shook her head and then looked away.
"You did everything for him," Hope finished. "And that ungrateful old harpy hurt you again," she said, recalling the tear soaked phone call she had received the night Emily had found the letter.
"My whole life," Emily whispered. "For over half of my life, my life has been his life. And for what? To be lied to? Humiliated? Abandoned?"
"I know."
"What about me?" Emily asked as she finally raised her pain filled brown eyes to find the same sad eyes staring back at her. "When do I get to have my life? What if I've waited too long?" she whispered.
"I have no answers for you, Em, I wish I did, but I don't," Hope said at last. "But, I'm glad that you're here." She squeezed Emily's hand and smiled reassuringly. "See what an incredibly selfish creature I am too? I'm afraid that you're surrounded by us," she teased gently.
"I needed you so badly."
"I'm here." Hope gave her sister's hand one more squeeze and then picked up her martini glass as she sat back in her chair. "Finish your drink and we'll go collect that beautiful granddaughter of yours. We'll dress up to the nines and go out for the most sinful meal that we can find. Living well, it's the best revenge," she said as she raised her glass in a toast.
Emily lifted her own glass and added, "And shopping."
"Of course, that goes without saying. Tonight we will dine extravagantly, and then tomorrow we will procure a sufficient amount of useless baubles to assuage three broken hearts," Hope murmured.
Emily sipped her martini and then frowned as she lowered her glass. "Three?"
Hope smiled kindly and said, "Emily, gorgeous nineteen year old girls don't accompany their grandmothers to Europe unless they are running away from something."
"Rory?" Emily asked in a bewildered tone.
"Yes, Rory. A broken heart? A disappointment? A disagreement?" she mused. "We'll have to winnow it out of her."
Emily gaped at her sister for a moment as Hope's words sank in, and then her face clouded even more as she dropped her eyes to her glass. "She'll never tell me. She's Lorelai's daughter. She won't confide in me," she said in a defeated tone.
"Well, then, I'll just have to get her alone, won't I," Hope said with a decisive nod as she motioned for Emily to drink up.
****
She changed the sheets. The damn maid changed the damn sheets, Richard fumed as he tossed the useless pillow from the bed. I'll fire her tomorrow. Right after I find out where my grey suit is. And my wife. He sighed as he blinked up at the ceiling, knowing that sleep would not come that night.
****
Rory closed her eyes, resisting the morning light that edged around the curtains. Another day in Paris; another day far, far away from everyone and everything. She rolled over, blinking at the beside clock as she automatically calculated the time difference to Stars Hollow. She flopped back onto her back and stared up at the ornately carved ceiling, trying to clear her mind. Today, they would shop. She frowned as she recalled her grandmother's disturbingly frenzied tear through the mall a few months before. But today, she was glad. Museums were too quiet; they left her too much time to think, and she didn't want to think anymore. It hurt to think. She mentally re-added the hours she had subtracted to get to Eastern Standard Time. Yes, shopping is just what I need. Shopping as a contact sport. Who could possibly think when the stores were taking such a hit?
****
Lorelai stared at the faint light that filtered through the gauzy curtains. She ran her fingers over the hand he pressed to her stomach as she leaned back into him, reveling in the solid comfort of his body curled around hers. His thumb moved slowly over the cotton tank she wore, letting her know that he was still awake. She sighed softly as he snuggled in closer, burying his nose in her hair.
"Have you heard from them?" he asked, his voice low and raspy in the darkened room.
"Only a message from my mother telling me that they arrived in Paris safely," she whispered.
"She'll call," he said with more confidence than she could even imagine having.
"Maybe."
"She will."
Lorelai exhaled and leaned back on him a little more. "I like having you here," she said softly.
"I like being here," he answered, and then kissed her hair softly.
