"Mom, don't you think it should be illegal for houses to be half a mile away from the road?" asked Lorelai as they trudged up the endlessly long, balloon-festooned driveway of the Boyers' mansion.
"It's not half a mile, Lorelai. This is what sensible people do when they don't want their homes exposed to traffic."
"Well at least they could have their big circular parking lots moved a little closer to the house. What's the point of having a driveway if you can't drive down it?"
"We're not about to block a driveway when a hundred other guests are attending!"
"Oh, of course not, because we are the people and wisdom dies with us."
"Lorelai, you've been so good this past week. I thought you were finally turning over a new leaf.
"I'm not your Venus flytrap, Mom. It's not like you can just give me a little fertilizer and I'll start sprouting leaves that look like something out of Jurassic Park."
"All I ask is that you be polite for two or three hours. Goodness, I wish Richard hadn't had that charity auction to attend. He would have been a much less difficult guest."
"You should be thankful the only child of your heart agreed to accompany you to a party for people she hasn't seen since she was twelve."
"I told you in the car that I was grateful."
"So there's old Mrs. Boyer, middle-aged Mrs. Boyer, and Miss Boyer. Hey, can I be Goldilocks and call them the three Boyers?"
"You can call them whatever you like as long as it's their own names."
"That should shake things up."
Emily had barely rung the doorbell when a maid opened the door.
"Hello, Nina. This is my daughter Lorelai."
They were shown into the reception room, where scores of people milled about, talking and laughing. Large as it was, the room clearly hadn't been designed for so many guests. The volume was nearly deafening.
"There's a lot of people here," Lorelai commented.
"Well, of course, Lorelai. A ninetieth birthday celebration is a once in a lifetime occasion."
"Hey, you're right, I should really start celebrating my ninetieth birthday now. Because I only get to have the party once and by the time I get to ninety I'm going to be too senile to enjoy it."
"Lorelai, if you don't want people to think you've acquired senile dementia before your time, be serious for a few seconds."
"Mom, eating chocolate-covered hazelnuts with dentures is no laughing matter."
"Thanks to my dedication, you saw the dentist every six months until you were sixteen. All your teeth are still perfectly capable of sampling these elegant confections. I wonder which of Marjorie's cooks created these?"
"How long have you known these people, Mom?"
"Forty years. Forty-five if you count the years Marjorie was an acquaintance of your father's while he was dating me. Why?"
"I just want to make sure you trust them and they're not going to put arsenic in the brownies. "
"Lorelai!"
"Hey, they did it to Napoleon. Do any of the people here moonlight as a British spy?"
"I'll have you know that two-thirds of the women here are Daughters of the American Revolution."
"Well, a British spy wouldn't pose as a card-carrying member of the House of Lords, would he?"
"Is that Christopher?"
"Christopher? Oh, don't tell me you picked now to try magic mushrooms, Mom. Christopher doesn't like these functions. Christopher would rather be attacked by a hungry bear than spend an entire afternoon with the Boyers."
"Lorelai, Christopher is walking through the door."
Lorelai turned, and thought her heart had stopped beating. Christopher was indeed walking into the reception room, and right behind him was a woman…a very beautiful young woman dressed in an elegant dark red dress that, because it would be unforgiving on almost any other woman, proved the flawlessness of her figure.
"Who is that woman, Lorelai?"
Lorelai was trying to catch her breath.
"Lorelai?"
"I don't know, Mom."
"Well, is Christopher seeing someone?"
"He does have two eyes to see with."
"Does Christopher have a girlfriend?"
"Um, I don't know, I don't have Christopher's daybook. We're separated. Did you know who Dad was seeing when you were separated?"
"Yes, since were still legally married I considered it a matter of personal interest to know everything about Richard's doings, whether or not he knew I knew."
"And Gossip Girl is revealed."
"We should go over so he can introduce us."
"Mom."
"Come along, Lorelai."
"Mother, really, I think I'll…"
But it was too late to back away, because Christopher had seen them. His eyes had widened and he had stopped dead in his tracks. Now, apparently realizing that he had no choice, he was coming reluctantly forwards.
"Hello, Christopher."
Lorelai, a few feet behind her mother, gave a little wave. Christopher looked uncomfortable as he approached. Emily, however, stepped eagerly forwards.
"And this is…" she pressed.
"Melanie." He turned to the woman at his side. "This is Emily Gilmore and Lorelai. Rory's mother."
The woman looked startled, then murmured something to Christopher. "Oh, Rory's…you didn't tell me that she was going to be here."
Christopher squirmed. "I didn't know that she was going to be here."
Lorelai arrived at her mother's side. "Wow, what a coincidence. I didn't know I was going to be here either until two days ago. And I didn't know Chris was going to be here because my mom didn't tell me."
"Well I didn't know. I expected to see your mother, Christopher, but I didn't realize you would be attending."
"My mother fractured her fibula, so I'm her stand-in."
"Your mother broke her leg? Why haven't we heard this? Give her my best wishes for a quick recovery, Christopher."
"I will do that." Christopher glanced over at Lorelai, who was looking with deep interest at the wall on her right.
"Do you know many people here, Christopher?" Emily asked.
"Uh, well, there's the odd vaguely familiar face which could belong to four or five different prep schools."
"Come along, Christopher, Melanie. I'll introduce you. Everyone here knows your mother, Christopher…"
Emily's voice trailed off as she steered Christopher and Melanie in the opposite direction. Christopher cast one brief, pained backwards glance at Lorelai, but she had already turned around to face the punch table and compose herself.
For a few moments she stood alone, feeling stunned and oddly hurt. She stared absently at the patterns on the wallpaper across the room, trying to figure out how she should react—or why she was reacting the way she was. Christopher had a girlfriend. Of course, Christopher had a girlfriend. He was an attractive man, he was friendly to everyone, and she'd seen those women at Gigi's play. But she'd thought…
Lorelai had spent time with Chris and Gigi several times since the play. Gigi had loved it, and Christopher had seemed to enjoy her company. Lorelai had certainly enjoyed being with him. Had she been a fool to think that meant something—that even if their relationship wasn't that of husband and wife, even if there wasn't a hint of romance, at least as a friend she was an important woman in Christopher's life? The least Christopher could have done was told her about Melanie. She was still Rory's mother, if nothing else.
Lorelai was standing in deep introspection, a half-finished chocolate hovering in her hand above her plastic plate, when she became suddenly aware of a voice at her elbow.
"Lorelai Gilmore?"
His smile was open and friendly. "It's been a long time."
"Oh, time flies, I guess," Lorelai responded, forcing a laugh.
"How are you?"
Besides upset and unreasonably jealous? thought Lorelai. Completely clueless. She was racking her brain trying to figure out who this man was. His face looked very familiar, his voice was familiar, but who was he?
"Uh, besides slightly deafened and about to go snowblind from all this white hair, wonderful."
He grinned, and suddenly Lorelai remembered who he was. His name was Daniel Drohan, and Emily had just mentioned him a few Friday night dinners ago. He was the son of one of the D.A.R. women, and although he was a few years older than Lorelai, she had met him a number of times as a girl. He'd been in California for a while. Now apparently he was back in Connecticut, newly divorced and supposedly disillusioned with lavish lifestyles and old money.
All in all, little to find fault with. Except that Lorelai would rather be anywhere else than here, especially since Chris and Melanie were sitting directly across from her, no matter how hard she tried not to notice.
Christopher was uncomfortable. Here he was, sitting on a couch with Melanie, while Lorelai, of all people, was standing across from him at the food table. If Chris had even dreamed Lorelai might be here, he would never have brought Melanie. Not before he told Lorelai about Melanie, and he hadn't planned to tell Lorelai about Melanie until he was sure Melanie was going to be around for a while. Admittedly, he'd expected Emily to be here. And Emily would have told Lorelai. But his mother's request that he go in her place had been so last-minute, Chris hadn't had a chance to collect his thoughts...and he wouldn't even have brought Melanie if he hadn't mentioned the party to her and she hadn't insisted on coming...and he wouldn't have listened to her if he hadn't been completely horrified by the prospect of going alone to a largely female gathering.
More to the point, why on earth would Lorelai have agreed to come here with her mother, anyway? Lorelai hated these society functions. She wouldn't have come to one on her own volition, let alone at her mother's behest.
Chris felt terrible. He had planned to tell Lorelai about Melanie...just at the right time. Melanie was a fourth grade teacher at Gigi's school. She was tall and beautiful, with honey brown hair and brown eyes. Chris had noticed her several times: she was one of the few attractive women he'd looked at twice since becoming single again. Chris had talked to her several times and had been pleasantly surprised to find that she seemed even more attractive inside than out. She was several years younger than he was, but very intelligent--and besides, Chris didn't think he was as mature as he should be for his age. Melanie was patient and sweet without being syrupy--she had a quick wit and a great sense of humour.
He hadn't been comfortable with her meeting Gigi yet, but Melanie always asked about Gigi--and about Rory, once she'd learned Chris had another daughter. That was how she'd learned about Lorelai. Chris had finally told her yesterday about his two-month marriage to Lorelai. He'd known that if she went anywhere among Hartford society, she'd hear the gossip about him and Lorelai.
So Chris had told Melanie the marriage had been impulsive, a terrible mistake on both their parts—but one which they'd realized quickly. It wasn't even a legal marriage, Chris had told her. Just a quick church blessing. Their relationship hadn't been any more serious than a brief engagement. Everything between him and Lorelai was now completely over.
Melanie had absorbed all this information with wide but compassionate eyes. She said she was glad Chris had been honest with her, and that she'd come to know his character well enough that she didn't think any worse of him for either his divorce from Sherry, or his hasty elopement and separation from Lorelai . Marrying for the sake of a child is never a good idea, Melanie had said, and as for him and Lorelai, it was easy to get carried away by nostalgic feelings without taking the present into account. At least they'd realized their mistake quickly.
Chris had been glad Melanie had so much faith in him and had been so understanding, but he felt guilty about the way he'd portrayed his marriage to Lorelai. At least on his side, it hadn't really been an impulsive or quickly regretted decision. He'd fully believed he was marrying Lorelai for life. No matter how badly their marriage had turned out, he felt like he was demeaning it by making it out to be something hasty and meaningless. But how else would he explain how it had fallen apart so quickly? How else would he explain Lorelai's behaviour?
He glanced at Lorelai across the room. Every so often, out of the corner of his eye, he'd been sure she was looking his way: but the second he'd turn his head, her eyes would be shifting back towards the man she was talking to--even if Chris could swear she was still looking at him out of the corner of her right eye. Exactly the same way he was watching her.
He had no clue who she was talking to, but he was a good-looking man--at least two inches taller than Chris, impeccably dressed in a navy suit and gold tie, tanned and boasting a full head of thick dark hair, despite the slight encroachment of grey in the black. He fit the stereotype of tall, dark and handsome perfectly. And rich. But everyone here was rich.
Chris turned his attention to Melanie, and was instantly distracted. She was beautiful, and listening to the endless prattle of the elderly woman beside her with devout attentiveness. Chris was impressed. He had never before seen someone look so ardently interested in something so uninteresting. Melanie had people skills, for sure. What were the two of them talking about?
"And despite the low attendance, we raised nearly a thousand dollars for the memorial garden." Mrs. Newton was saying.
"That's wonderful," Melanie gushed. "My friend on the hospital board says she can't get people to donate unless they get their name in diamonds for it."
Chris smiled to himself, turning slightly away and glancing at the floor. Then it occurred to him that Melanie might not have intended to make an ironic statement. He glanced at her again. He might not have known Melanie for long, but he thought he knew when she was being sincere. At his glance, Melanie turned to smile at him. He returned her smile with just the faintest hint of insider amusement--and Melanie's smile remained as open and guileless as it had been on first glance. In fact, far from conveying an understanding of a private joke, Melanie's beaming eyes and delighted smile seemed to say, "Isn't she delightful. Such a darling!"
Melanie turned back to Mrs. Newton.
"So, tell me, how often do you have these charity balls? I'm sure my friend would love to get in touch with you."
Chris' expression was turning from amused to astonished. Melanie had no clue. She thought this elderly woman was the salt of the earth, an honourable, selfless soul. Chris couldn't believe it. Then again, he realized to his slight chagrin that maybe the woman really was. Chris didn't know this particular woman at all. He just knew her type. He'd been exposed to what seemed like hundreds and hundreds of these women with their charity balls, elitist fundraisers, generous and public donations, and scheming one-upmanship all through his childhood, youth, and into his adulthood. He knew this lifestyle and its pettiness, superficiality and hypocrisy backwards and forwards.
But Melanie didn't. That, Chris realized, was the difference. Melanie had probably no idea that this kind of world even existed. Chris had found out what kind of a place it actually was, that a grimier reality lay beneath these people's lofty-sounding pronouncements about civic duties and patriotic ideals. But it had taken him years of constant exposure to this society to learn exactly what it really was. How could he expect Melanie to comprehend it all instantly? Unfortunately, she would need a lot of time and experience to catch up with him.
Chris fiddled with his shirt sleeves and sighed. He glanced across the room again at Lorelai. He wondered how well she was enjoying that man's company. She was alternately nodding, giving exaggerated smiles, twirling her hair, and turning to examine the photographs on the wall. From time to time her right eye roved dangerously near Christopher's direction--but it never quite reached the couch where Chris and Melanie were sitting.
Chris' mouth curled up in a half-smile. He had wondered if Lorelai had found her companion as attractive as he obviously found her, but he had his answer. Chris felt relieved that Lorelai obviously wasn't interested. Not that it mattered at all: he didn't care. But he'd hadn't expected Lorelai to hang around being single after she'd broken up with Luke. That wasn't Lorelai's way. Men were interested in her, and she would jump at the chance to flirt with even a man she wasn't interested in, stringing clueless suitors along when she had no intention of getting serious. He'd seen her do it in high school, and had found it amusing then, as though he were part of her inside joke—knowing she wanted him, and only him.
Chris wondered why Lorelai wasn't flirting with this man or encouraging him, even if he wasn't to her taste. And as a matter of fact, Chris didn't want to admit it, but he couldn't really see why she wouldn't be interested in this fellow. Wasn't he everything that women wanted? Tanned and handsome, a fluent conversationalist, charming. Chris knew Lorelai had high standards, but he couldn't see how this man wouldn't meet them.
Lorelai was feeling more and more apathetic and gloomy. True, Daniel was an interesting conversationalist. From the slightly conceited and over-serious young man she remembered, he'd become vulnerable and even unsure of himself. He looked like someone who'd been hurt by life. At the same time, he was caring and genuinely interested in her life—in fact, he'd practically jumped at the chance to serve her more punch and had asked two or three times if she wanted anything else on the table. Once upon a time Lorelai might have taken a second look at someone like this. Actually, Daniel reminded her a bit of the Luke she'd first gotten to know—someone who'd do anything for everyone else, yet projected a vaguely melancholy air of unworthiness. Once, Lorelai would have been stimulated by the challenge of making someone like this smile and laugh—and the possibility of wrapping him around her little finger in the process would have been tempting, too. But now? She just felt somewhat sorry for Daniel. It was too bad he'd been bruised by the way life had treated him. But she didn't have anything to offer him, and she was sure he didn't have anything she wanted.
Daniel had finally been intercepted by a number of middle-aged and elderly women--there seemed to be no end of those swarming around. A few seconds later, Emily had swooped down on Lorelai and steered her in the direction of another eligible divorcé. Lorelai wondered wearily how many of her peers had been divorced by now. She'd never thought she'd be one of them. Cam Rutherford was about six inches shorter than Daniel, with reddish-blond hair, twinkling green eyes and an endless repertoire of zany jokes. About half of them actually made her laugh, despite her dismal mood. Lorelai wasn't particularly surprised to learn that Cam had dabbled in stand-up comedy. At one time, she would have found him just as attractive as she could have found Daniel--in a totally different way. He reminded her a bit of Jason: talkative, funny, quirky. She loved the verbal repartee she could have with men like this.
Or, she used to. But somehow right now she wished all these men would just vanish. She wished the whole party would go up in a puff of smoke. Everything here was completely unappealing to her. Yes, at one time it would have been fun to chat with those men; but all she could think about was that the only person she really wanted to talk to was out of earshot, perhaps permanently. At one time it would have been fun to flirt with both Daniel and Cam, even date them; but the truth was, after being married to someone she was now pretty sure she could have stayed happily married to for the rest of her life, flirting and dating seemed futile and bland.
Lorelai winced. Another man was approaching her. Had the whole world heard that Emily Gilmore's flighty daughter was newly single? He was incredibly tall and thin, with acne-scarred features and a slight forward-craning neck. But the first thing Lorelai noticed about him was the wetness of his lips.
"Lorelai Gilmore? Or after twenty years, do my eyes deceive me?"
"I'm sorry. I don't think I…"
"Ninth grade introduction to the arts, remember? You sat three seats ahead of me. We did a dramatic reading of von Flotow's Martha. You were Martha and I was Sir Tristram."
"Oh yeah! Jim Stewart. You were the perfect evil love rival. Although your pitch was a little mezzosoprano at times."
"Well, I was fifteen. My voice was wavering between low E and middle G. I volunteered for the bass part to impress you, but I have to say you were impressed by a very limited selection of men."
"Yes, what can I say? I had posters of leading men in my bedroom and then I had to go face twenty dozen teenage boys with nicked chins and bad skin."
"I believe there was one who found favor with you."
"Yes, well at that age girls are young enough to remember the "one true love" quote from Sleeping Beauty, and old enough to expect it to come true."
"I heard about you and Christopher. I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too. Uh, I mean because if I had a choice between a day on an island in Dubai and getting separated, I'd probably choose the island."
"But no man is an island."
"Are you now trying to impress me with your knowledge of John Donne?"
"I'm saying I've traveled the Pacific, the Atlantic, and the Sargasso Sea, and I've seen enough islands. I'm home to stay."
Chris leaned back a little deeper into the couch. Melanie was trying to negotiate conversations with two different women, as well as give him the occasional doting smile. Chris glanced around the room. A group of people in front of him abruptly dispersed, and to Christopher's consternation, he had a suddenly clear view of Lorelai, standing with yet another male companion at the other end of the room.
He let his eyes rove around the entire room, hoping that way he it wouldn't look like he was avoiding Lorelai's gaze nor deliberately seeking it. It didn't matter, anyway, because when his eyes finally did reach Lorelai, she was looking at the ground. She didn't seem any more enthusiastic about this man than she had about the past two--although this one seemed to be her biggest fan out of all three. He was definitely out-talking Lorelai tonight, by a ratio of about ten to one.
Which didn't make any sense. Sure, this last guy seemed a little out of touch with reality. But the last two had looked like great guys, the sort of men Lorelai would once have encouraged without blinking her eye. Christopher had to admit that he'd been watching Lorelai quite a bit, when Melanie hadn't been looking. He'd been sure she'd hit it off with one of those men. But she'd been pretty subdued the whole evening. In fact, she'd been getting less and less animated as the evening wore on.
Chris didn't understand it at all. She'd rejected him, hadn't she? He did realize, much as he didn't want to, that Lorelai probably had second thoughts about ending their marriage. But still, if she could end their marriage in a matter of months, and opt out of a third try with Luke after only a few weeks, surely she could jump into another relationship just as quickly.
"Chris, didn't you say Gigi walked at nine months?"
Melanie interrupted his thoughts. Chris turned to her. Melanie and two society women were looking at him intently.
"She did, and she could say ten words at a year."
"My goodness, so precocious. You've done so well on your own, Christopher, after that sorry excuse of a first wife left you."
"How old did you say your grandchildren were, Mrs. Newton?" said Melanie, artfully changing the topic.
Chris smiled slightly as he looked at the floor, absently twisting his napkin. He watched Melanie for a few seconds, and she turned to him and smiled. Chris felt a glow inside as he looked at her. She was beautiful, she was obviously interested in Chris, she had a beautiful personality--she lit a spark inside him.
Then his eyes flickered over the scene across the room, and his smile disappeared. Melanie was a beautiful person. But Lorelai was something more than beautiful. He didn't know why his eyes wanted to drink her in: it wasn't anything he could define. She was just...Lorelai. Watching her tilt her head back slightly, fiddle with her glass, shift from one foot to the other, his mind wandered. He'd memorized the way she did all those things. He knew everything there was to know about her. He shouldn't think about just how well he'd known her...and yet, he remembered. He would probably always remember.
Then, just as Christopher was trying to pull his mind back, Lorelai looked his way. This time their eyes met. Chris smiled wanly. Lorelai gave him the faintest of smiles back, even as she turned her head back towards the other man.
Chris hung his arms at his sides and stared at the floor, oblivious to every conversation around him, including the one at his side. It wasn't as though his heart skipped a beat when he looked at Lorelai. It wasn't as though his brain melted into a puddle--though it once had. It was simply that his eyes and his mind were somehow drawn to her. There was an insistent pull, and then a feeling of serenity and rightness as soon as his eyes found her, and her eyes met his.
He hadn't intended to feel this way. He turned his attention to Melanie and, once again, was instantly distracted. The ringing of glasses had announced the impending birthday speech, given by Mrs. Boyer's son-in-law--Christopher and Lorelai's former science teacher. Chris wasn't looking forward to this birthday address at all. He knew from painful experience just how long Mr. Thompson could drone on without making a single coherent statement.
Christopher turned to look back for Lorelai. At first he couldn't find her: then he realized that Lorelai and her friend (who was still talking) were sitting across from him. He looked as intently as he could towards the end of the room, where the speech was beginning.
It was effusive from the start, and it only got longer. It was filled with statements like "this august and auspicious occasion", "the illustrious personage of whom we are speaking" and Christopher's favourite: "the portion of the population perspicacious enough to plan for their progeny into perpetuity."
Chris had been glancing at Lorelai tentatively, but she hadn't met his eyes. At the "perpetuity" phrase, though, she finally looked at him. Christopher grinned, and Lorelai's lips began to widen in a small smile. "Remember when we pulled the fire alarm during his class?" her eyes said.
"And the next day we didn't have to take notes for half the class because he was so busy showing off his vocabulary in a lecture about pulling a false alarm," answered Chris' dancing eyes.
Now Lorelai's eyes were laughing. Chris nodded his head in the man's direction.
"You think we should try something similar here?" his eyes said mischievously.
Lorelai's eyes widened in mock horror. "Christopher!" her eyes said.
Chris looked down at his watch, tapped it, and then jerked his head subtly in the direction of the pontificating speechmaker. "I'm timing him," the action said. "If he's not done soon, I'm looking for the fire alarm in this mansion."
Lorelai just grinned, delighted.
Afterwards, both Christopher and Lorelai remained seated where they had been during the speech. Christopher watched Lorelai's male friend turn his full attention on Lorelai again. He was nothing if not single-minded: he never seemed to stop talking. And he kept leaning in closer. It only took a few seconds for Lorelai to begin squirming, glancing at her watch, allowing her eyes to float over the ceiling. It was obvious that she was looking desperately for an escape.
Chris felt bad for her. At the same time, it was rather funny. It had been a long time since he had seen Lorelai look so ill-at-ease--in a conversation with a man, no less. She looked vulnerable and in need of rescue. Finally, Lorelai looked up for a second, and Chris caught her eye. His own eyes gleamed with amusement, but the look Lorelai shot back at him was both offended and unsure.
Chris' eyes softened, though the corners of his mouth were still turned up in a smile. He glanced over at the lanky man, who was still talking, and raised his free hand very slightly to open and close it, like a mouth.
Lorelai's face was transformed into a smile. Her eyebrows raised, she nodded her head almost imperceptibly towards Melanie, who was talking animatedly with a number of Christopher's mother's friends. Christopher looked back at Lorelai a little sheepishly. Then the embarrassment vanished and he gave Lorelai a real, open smile, acknowledging what she'd meant and admitting she was right. Melanie was deeply engrossed in a conversation in which Chris had absolutely no interest. His expression said: "Melanie's all right, it's not her fault. But you're right, she doesn't quite get it."
Chris' eyes might have said more than that if one of his mother's friends hadn't suddenly approached, blocking his view of Lorelai, and firing a thousand questions at him. For the next ten minutes, both he and Lorelai were completely held captive by their respective conversational partners. Finally, Mrs. Newton stepped aside when Melanie tapped Chris on the arm.
"Mrs. Boyer wants to show us her hothouse. It's got ten dozen different varieties of flowers."
"From forty-seven states, including four Caribbean countries."
"That's an impressive collection. I never knew Cuba was our fifty-second state. How's Castro taking it?"
Melanie flashed Chris a look of warning, even as her eyes twinkled. "I can hardly wait to see it, Mrs Boyer. I've tried to grow a garden for years and I seem to kill everything I touch. You must have a green thumb."
While Melanie was speaking, Chris glanced over at Lorelai. She was watching him, her eyes pained. Suddenly Chris touched Melanie's shoulder.
"I just saw someone I've got to talk to. You go on. When you get back you can tell me all about the eighth wonder of the horticultural world."
Chris slipped away, threading through the crowd in search of what he'd seen a moment ago. Sure enough, near the doorway, there was Emily Gilmore, trying to heft a second large wrapped box through the entryway to a table beyond. Judging by her florid face and her awkward progression through the hallway, she was having difficulty. Chris approached her.
"Emily, let a gentleman give you a hand."
"That would be helpful, if there were any well-mannered gentleman in this place."
Chris held out his hands and Emily, a disgusted look on her face, handed him the box.
"Well here I am, Launcelot to your rescue."
"Well at least someone has the decency to look out for a woman."
"You shouldn't have been carrying this in the first place! What's in here? A couple hundred tons of salt from the Dead Sea?"
"It's a model of the house. The house was built in the exact year Marjorie was born, so Richard and I thought having a replica built would be a thoughtful gift. Unfortunately it's not fully assembled."
"How many more boxes are there?"
"They're on the lawn right now. I suppose there are about half a dozen."
"All right. You sit down and relax. I'm going to go get some reinforcements."
Chris hurried back to find Lorelai. As he approached he heard a steady flow of words.
"And you told the teacher it was ASLG disease, a rare form of apple pox. Little did she know you and Aimee had taken bites out of all two dozen apples. You were quite an irrepressible bunch. It reminds me of the poem by Christina Rosetti. You remember "Goblin Market", back in..."
Chris tapped Lorelai on the shoulder.
"Excuse me, but we seem to have a bit of a crisis in the front entryway."
"Oh dear," said the man, who Christopher suddenly remembered as the skinny nerd who sat three seats behind Lorelai in Introduction to the Arts and used to count lockers during the lunch hour. "Do you need my assistance?"
"Lorelai's mother just needs to see her for a moment." To Lorelai, Chris said: "If you want to prevent your mother from spending the rest of her life on her back counting ceiling patterns, you'd better come and intervene."
Lorelai jumped up. "She didn't try to prove she could still touch her toes, did she? 'Cause that always leads to trouble."
"No, it's two hundred pounds of possibly broken ceramic."
"Hey, can I remind you that I am not exactly Arnold Schwarzenegger here?"
"I thought you wanted me to get you out of there."
"I did, I didn't want a career carrying two ton bricks."
"I'm not asking you to take up weightlifting. Just stand here and look pretty."
"Ooh, can I bat my eyelashes at all the handsome men who walk by?"
Emily, catching her breath in the entryway, saw them approaching. "Lorelai! Christopher, Lorelai can't lift those models."
"Mom, what did I hear you were trying to do back here?"
"Lorelai's not going to lift anything. She's going to be my doorstop. " He turned to Lorelai. "Would you mind holding the door for me, Scarlett?"
"Ooh, my first name! So forward!"
Emily, shaking her head, left the room. In a minute, Chris hauled in another three boxes.
"Grab one."
"I thought you said no heavy lifting. In fact, I put on my Southern belle expression just so you could see I was a fragile flower in no condition to...Ow!" Chris had unceremoniously pushed the third box at her.
"Follow me."
They laid the boxes down in an empty room where all the presents were piled. Then Chris touched Lorelai on the shoulder and propelled her towards a back door.
"Christopher, what are you doing?"
"There's a gazebo here somewhere. Remember?"
"It's probably been demolished like that model should be."
"Come on."
They crept out through the backyard, dark now in the early October evening. The air, though was surprisingly warm after an exceptionally mild day, so much so that they didn't need coats. Christopher pushed through some undergrowth and vines to reveal a rickety gazebo underneath.
"Ohh…it's still here," Lorelai breathed.
"In all its cramped and allergy-inducing glory."
"I forgot this place existed."
"You forgot the place where you took your first breath of nicotine?"
"Well if you hadn't been there with a pack of cigarettes, it would have been the most unmemorable visit of my life. Thank goodness you were there to make sure I threw up in Mrs. Boyer's back garden."
"That's what I'm here for."
"So what'd you bring me here for tonight?"
"Oh, I figured you'd take this over another hour of Hamlet's soliloquies."
"How did you know I was ready to collapse from boredom?"
"You didn't exactly look like Gary Kasparov planning to checkmate Deep Blue there."
"Well, neither did you, Mr. Alligator Puppet."
There was an awkward pause as Chris nodded, but didn't quite smile. Finally Lorelai asked, much more quietly, "Is it serious?"
"Yeah, no, it's, ah…"
"Never mind, I shouldn't have asked."
"No. Lor, I would tell you if anything was going to change in my life. Because of Rory."
"Right, Rory."
"I was going to tell you."
"No, no, it's totally fine. I mean I don't want to be the nosy ex-wife who calls her daughter twenty times a day to ask if her dad's girlfriend wore Estée Lauder or something cheap. You have your own life."
"You're still part of it."
"Chris…"
"I don't think I'm ever gonna be able to get rid of someone who can quote my report cards chapter and verse from Grades 1 to 11."
"I forget second grade math. Was that a B- or a C?"
"I believe it was a C."
"And you were planning to attend an Ivy League school."
"In my defense, I had an excuse. You sat behind me and you whispered imaginary plot spoilers for the New Howdy Doody Show in my ear."
"That better not be your excuse for ninth grade math."
"What did I get? A C-?
"You got a D, mister. You spent two whole weeks in your room studying for the final exam just so you could pass the class."
"I'm never using you as a reference."
"Hey, you better be glad I don't know what you were wearing every day of your entire childhood. Tonight I learned on September 8th, 1976, I apparently wore a white cardigan, plaid skirt, and a blouse with teddy bears doing the hula hoop."
"I wish I'd taken that guy out the first time he asked me if I knew whose locker was seven lockers before mine. I thought he was doing recreational algebra, not stalking my girlfriend."
"Nah, he wasn't worth it. He'd never pass the test."
"He was studying for twelve years."
"Yet tonight, he asked me if I wanted tickets to an Andrea Boccelli concert."
"That doesn't seem possible."
"He also thought that I seemed like the type of person who would really enjoy Celtic Woman's version of Orinoco Flow because I probably loved Enya's.
"This guy has an A to Z file in his brain for your third grade clothing!"
"Yet he got my tastes in music completely wrong."
"He knew the facts but not the formula."
"How could someone know every detail about my life and yet think I'm the kind of girl who would listen to Irish drums and Danny Boy for an entire evening?"
"Relax, he's probably an autistic savant. Someday he'll have the entire phone book down and memorizing Lorelai Gilmore's shirt will seem like Chopsticks and not worthy to be mentioned."
Lorelai laughed with Chris. She moved a little closer to him, and he didn't resist. Both of them were looking out over the open night sky.
"There's a lot of stars out tonight."
"The sky's clear."
"Remember when we'd try to count the stars in the Big Dipper?"
"You maintained there were seven, I said there were eight."
"Okay, go ahead, count them."
"One, two, three, four…
"Five, six, seven."
"Eight."
"Christopher, there is no eight. It's called parallax. It messes with your head."
"My head's pretty clear. You're just standing in the wrong spot."
Lorelai moved slightly nearer to Chris and behind him, until she was a hairsbreadth away from touching him.
"Okay, okay, there's a faint possibility of an eighth."
"You know, we could always look at an astronomy book."
"And have one of us win the argument?"
"It could be you."
"But then I wouldn't get to be unselfish and take your side when in doubt."
There was a clatter and raucous laughter from inside the house.
"It sounds like they're starting a second Trojan War in there," Chris remarked.
"I guess we should get back inside."
"What do you mean? The air's warm, the stars are shining, and there's no Emily Gilmore in sight."
"Won't Melanie be looking for you?"
Chris sighed and moved slightly to the right of Lorelai, who reacted instantly by shifting further left.
"Nah, Mrs. Boyer probably hasn't even scratched the surface of her Caribbean plant collection."
"Okay," said Lorelai, relaxing beside him.
There was a pause, while they breathed in the slight autumn chill, watched the wind ripple the grass and the dying leaves on the trees, and stared at the stars. Christopher's hand rested on the ledge of the gazebo. After a while, so did Lorelai's—dangerously near his. Finally, Lorelai spoke.
"Chris."
"What?"
"I thought I should tell you, um--"
You want to renege on the Big Dipper compromise of '07"?
"No. You know, up until tonight, I never knew there were so many undatable single men out there."
"Not just Jim?"
"No. But you're not one of them. Melanie's a lucky girl."
"Lor…"
There was a sudden rustle behind them, followed instantly by a footfall. Lorelai and Christopher both shot around. There, illuminated by the light from the house behind her, stood Emily Gilmore.
"Christopher and Lorelai! Of all the people I thought I would find in a compromising position tonight!"
"Mom, hang on a second. What did you see us doing?"
"Nothing, and I don't want to know what there was to see."
"You didn't see anything because there wasn't anything to see!"
"Lor…" muttered Christopher uncomfortably.
"What do you think I am, Mom? Do you actually believe I'd steal Christopher's girlfriend away from him the first chance I got? Christopher and I weren't compromising on anything except counting stars."
"Christopher is just as culpable as you are, Lorelai. His girlfriend is in there waiting for him, and here you two are standing out here like Romeo and Juliet about to elope."
"I better go," said Chris aside to Lorelai, slipping out behind Emily. Emily barely noticed. She was facing Lorelai, her face white a combination of shock, outrage, and hurt. Lorelai was far too angry to see the hurt.
"Mom, how could you say those things to us?"
"I am looking out for your reputation, Lorelai. Do you know how much of an embarrassment it was for me to explain the cancellation of all those wedding invitations two months after I'd announced your wedding? Do you plan to now tell those same people that your separation was some sort of ludicrous joke?"
"If you were so mad that Chris and I separated, why didn't you say something?"
"Oh, for crying out loud, Lorelai, whenever I say something, you do the exact opposite. If I'd remonstrated with you for divorcing Christopher, you would probably have cut ties with him completely. If I'd congratulated you on your divorce you would have gone straight back to Christopher even if you were absolutely miserable with him. I know it seems impossible to believe, Lorelai, but as your mother, I want you to be satisfied with the choices you make in life, even if I disagree vehemently with them. I should have known that when I said nothing about the divorce you'd take it as approval and run straight back into Christopher's arms just to spite me."
"Go show off your fancy model of the house, Mom. I'm getting a ride home with someone else."
