Author's Note: Well guys, for anyone aware of the Canadian Holiday calendar, you will know that today is Thanksgiving day for me. As such, I have decided to indulge my festive spirit and will be posting two chapters today.
In other news, I'm finally getting a handle on the reviewing and rewriting. So, I'm hopeful that from now on, updates will be regular. I'm hoping to have this story finished and posted for Christmas.
I hope you enjoy the next two chapters – please be sure to review.
Happy Thansgiving!
When it Snows
By TheBlueSwan
Chapter 13: The Cowherderess
Friday October 8th 2004, New Haven (The Hayden's Apartment) 10:51 a.m.
Christopher yanked at his tie. The damn thing refused to be tied properly.
He didn't have time for this.
Emily and Richard expected him to meet them before Lorelai and Rory arrived at the manor.
He was late.
Sherry sighed and walked up from behind him. She made him turn around to face her as she fixed him tie, "Why are you so tense?"
Christopher looked at Sherry incredulously, "I just found out my nineteen year old daughter is pregnant. Why do you think I'm tense, Sher?"
Sherry rolled her eyes, "Her mother got pregnant at sixteen Chris," she raised an eyebrow, "you can't honestly be surprised."
Christopher scowled and hissed, "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly what it sounded like," Sherry bit back, "look Chris, for her whole life, Lorelai was Rory's guiding influence. You shouldn't be surprised that the girl turned out like her mother. I don't understand why you're even bothering with any of this at the moment. We're busy enough as it is with work and Gigi. Let Lorelai take care of this."
"She's my daughter, Sherry," Christopher pushed her hands away and looked at his wife, disgusted.
"A daughter in name only," Sherry insisted, "Lorelai saw to that. You didn't raise her. Your parents have never even met the girl properly. Straub's gotten a glance of her over the years, working on Chilton's Board of Governors, but Francine's never laid eyes on the girl. The way I see it, the girl has nothing to do with us. You should –"
Sherry was cut off by the sound of Gigi crying in her nursery. Christopher glared at her hatefully and Sherry shook her head in disappointment, "Just think about it."
Friday October 8th 2004, Stars Hollow Bank & Loan, 11:39 a.m.
Lindsay strode determinedly through the door of the Stars Hollow Bank & Loan. She winced at the sound of some brat crying loudly in the background. But she refused to let it deter her. Gingerly, the blonde removed her large sunglasses and squinted at the room.
Originally, Lindsay had meant to be at the bank bright and early. But after yesterday's disappointment, she had overindulged at the club last night. As a result, her head was pounding in her skull, her tongue felt furry and her stomach revolted at most scents.
Needless to say, Lindsay was not in a very forgiving mood. She had already been of a mind to sue this fine establishment for their mishap. Now, in her current state, the outcome was all but guaranteed unless she was given exactly what she wanted promptly.
Striding towards the tellers, she cut ahead of a middle aged man and two teens, "Hey," one of the teenagers squawked indignantly.
Lindsay, naturally, ignored him. Noticing that the teller was about to object to her cut, Lindsay glared down at the small, mousy teller, "Yesterday my realtor attempted to cash in one of my cheques and was mistakenly told that the account had been closed. You are to rectify this mistake and call your manager. Tell him that I expect him to reimburse me for my troubles less he wishes to find himself in court for this nonsense."
The teller gulped and looked apologetically at the individuals standing in line.
"Very well, Miss…" the teller prodded.
"Mrs." Lindsay insisted, "Lister-Forester."
"Do you have your account card," the mousy young woman asked, hesitantly.
Not bothering with pleasantries, Lindsay simply pulled the card out and handed it to the teller. Over the course of the next two minutes, the teller frowned at her computer as Lindsay looked on, glaring. As time passed, the poor mousy young woman began to look increasingly nervous. The blonde, by contrast, grew all the more annoyed.
The teller bit her lip and stared determined at her computer screen. Lindsay, fed up, snapped her fingers in the woman's face. Startled, Elizabeth jumped back, her hand reaching up towards her left eye.
In her zeal, Lindsay had almost poked out the teller's eye. Still, the blonde continued to snap her fingers at the teller, unconcerned by the near injury, "Well," she demanded.
"I'm sorry Mrs. Forester," the teller gulped, keeping her distance, "it seems the account you wish to access was closed."
"Closed?" Lindsay hissed, "how could it be closed? And where is my money? There was nearly eight grand in that account!"
"Um," the teller stuttered, "it seems that your husband emptied and closed your joint account just a couple of days ago. I imagine he moved the money to another account."
Lindsay growled, "Very well, then prepare a new cheque book for me. And this time, please make sure that the cheque I give the realtor passes without a problem."
"I…" Elizabeth swallowed, "can't."
Infuriated, Lindsay slammed her hand down against the teller's desk, "What do you mean, you can't?"
The teller squeaked and rolled her chair a few inches further out of Lindsay's reach, "I've checked and the only account we have associated with your name was closed Wednesday."
"But you have a second account under my husband's name, don't you?" Lindsay screeched, "the idiot couldn't have just walked out with all that money and left it in our apartment?"
"I'm sorry mam," Elizabeth took a deep breath, "but I cannot confirm the existence of such an account. Our client's privacy is paramount here at Stars Hollow Bank & Loan."
"But it's my husband's account," Lindsay hissed, slamming the desk once more, "it's my money."
"I'm sorry mam, but if your husband does have another account with us, you cannot access the account unless he joins your name to it," Elizabeth stated firmly.
Friday October 8th 2004, Hartford (Gilmore Manor) 11:42 a.m.
Rory stared at the oak door in front of her. For the second time in her life, this particular door appeared daunting. Unlike her mother, Rory's relationship with the elder Gilmores had always been amicable. It had never once crossed her mind that something could ever happen to change this, but it had. Her confrontation with her grandmother last Tuesday had proven as much. And despite her mother's best efforts the following morning, Rory had yet to recover from the experience.
Rory could have used a little bit more time – but her time was up.
She would now have to stand before her grandparents and face judgement. Her mother was currently trying to comfort her, to distract her from the nightmare that awaited her on the other side of the door.
The attempt, however, proved less than effective.
Over the past three days Rory had been plagued by nausea, the likes and strength of which she had never known – not even when she had caught the flu in fifth grade. It was so horribly awful that Rory was convinced the nausea was also making her dizzy and short of breath.
Logically, Rory knew that the stress of this coming meeting was undoubtedly exacerbating her morning sickness, which in turn made her dizzy. After all, Rory found that she could rarely hold down her meals the past few days. As for the shortness of breath… Well, Rory had to wonder if she might not be experiencing some mild panic attacks here and there.
Rory, however, didn't tell her mother any of this. If she had known, Lorelai would have insisted they return home and put off this confrontation for another few days.
Rory didn't want that.
For one, Rory believed that the longer they dragged this out, that the longer they didn't clear the air, the worse everything would become over time. There was just too much at risk – too many relationships would be jeopardized in the equation. Rory realised that now would be the time, perhaps the only time for salvation.
To add to this, Rory doubted very much that her nausea would become more manageable until the gut wrenching encounter took place. And so, Rory stood in front of her grandparents' door, listening to her mother as Lorelai spun a fairy tale, "Once upon a time there was a big house, with thick glass windows and heavy stone walls and a slightly pornographic fountain in the driveway. And all the animals in the forest were scared of the house 'cause they thought that the house was haunted! And so did all the villagers in the small hamlet of Hartfordshire…Ville. 'Maids go in, but they never come out!' they would whisper on the street. How are we doing?"
Rory smirked, she really loved her mother sometimes, "Keep going."
"One day a beautiful young cowherderess walked by the house– "
Rory cut her mother off, "Cowherderess?" she enquired, a frown marring her features.
"Hey," Lorelai exclaimed, annoyed, "we could just go in, you know."
"Cowherderess is walking by…" Rory prodded.
Lorelai smirked at her daughter's evasive techniques, "And suddenly she felt the unbearable need for a strand of pearls and a snifter of hundred-year-old Scotch! So, abandoning her cows, she climbed over the high walls and dropped onto the just-redone tiled walkway and rushed toward the enchanted French doors that the Queen had never been happy with because the hardware was not what she had picked and she refused to pay that idiot designer that she hired off of a recommendation and –"
Lorelai stopped herself and shook her head, turning towards Rory she said "Okay, seriously, this didn't work when you were four. I am not sure why you thought it would do any good now."
Rory sighed and looked at her mother pleadingly.
"It's going to be fine," Lorelai placates, but there is a hitch in her voice which tells Rory that her mother is not all that convinced that thing will in fact be fine.
Rory ignores the sting in her eyes and bites her "I know," she reinforces.
Putting her arm around Rory, Lorelai smiles encouragingly and leads her to the door, "Come on, my little cowherderess! Do you want to press the bell or should I?"
Taking a deep breath, Rory steps forward to ring the bell. She is stopped, however, as Emily Gilmore opens the door for them. Imperiously, the red-head glares at the two, "Well," she hissed, "are you going to come in? Or are you two going to spend the night outside the door spinning fairy tales?"
Without a second glace, Emily strutted off towards the sitting room. Rory and Lorelai looked at each other, daunted, but followed none the less. As they reached the sitting room, the girls were confronted with a unified front. Emily and Richard Gilmore stood next to the fireplace, drinks in hand, while Christopher Hayden in the nearby armchair.
Eyes widening in anger, Lorelai hissed, "What is Christopher doing here."
Emily simply rolled her eyes, "He is Rory's father Lorelai. Given the circumstance Rory has now found herself in, I believed it was necessary to include him in this discussion. I always told you that a child needs its father. If you had done as I asked and married Christopher all those years ago as you should have, we wouldn't be in this situation today, now would we?"
Friday October 8th 2004, Stars Hollow (Doose's Market) 11: 54 a.m.
"What do you think you are doing?" Lindsay hissed as she smacked a bag of flour out of Dean's hands.
Dean watched as the bag hit the floor and burst open, sending a cloud of flour up in the air. He glared at his wife, "What the hell Lindsay?"
The blonde, however, was utterly unconcerned by the mess she had made in the market. More than that, she didn't even seem to care that she was making a scene in a public setting. Dean, however, not keen on presenting this little melodrama to the good people of Stars Hollow, quickly grabbed a hold of Lindsay's wrist and dragged her to the backroom. On their way there, they encountered an indignant Taylor. Shamefaced, Dean mouthed an apology to the owner and indicated he would see to the matter in a couple of minutes. Taylor's gaze narrowed angrily on Lindsay, but he nodded his head in understanding.
"Why didn't you tell me that you were closing our account and moving our money into a new one," Lindsay shrieked, "I looked like a fool when I confronted that stupid little mousy teller about their mistake at the bank this morning!"
Dean frowned, he had hoped that Lindsay wouldn't have noticed that yet. When they had married, Dean had opened up a joint account for Lindsay and himself at the Stars Hollow Bank & Loan. At the time, he had planned to transfer his own personal saving into the new account. But things had been so hectic and busy that he had never gotten around to it. And then life with Lindsay had begun to fall apart just before the New Year. By that point, Dean had realised that his new wife was a reckless spender. So much so, that Dean became increasingly convinced that if Lindsay were to have full access to their funds, she would spend it all before they could even hope to buy anything of real value.
As such, he had decided to place the remainder of his funds into a saving account and had told Lindsay as much. At the time, she hadn't cared – not even when he informed her he would be directing a portion of his paycheck to the savings account. Thinking back on it now, Dean figured that Lindsay had assumed that the amount placed into the account had been negligible at best – and as such, not worth her notice.
This turned out to work out in Dean's favor - for despite the fact that all of their living expenses were paid through the savings account, their joint account retained but a fraction of the money the savings account did. What Dean had spent in rent, utilities and food, Lindsay had exceeded in clothes, spa outings and pricy baubles.
"You know what," Lindsay scowled and threw her hands up in the air, "we'll discuss this latest little mishap later. Right now, I need you to pull out your cheque book and make one out for five thousand dollars."
"What," Dean asked, incredulous.
"I know," Lindsay hissed, frustrated, "that stupid teller at the bank wouldn't make me a new cheque book for our new account – even though I told her that you were my husband and the money was mine."
"No," Dean glared at her, "why do you need me to make out a cheque for five thousand dollars."
Lindsay looked at him condescendingly, "For a down payment on the town house I want," she said, as if he was the biggest idiot in the world.
"The town house?" Dean hissed, "Lindsay, I told you I wasn't going to buy a town house any time soon."
"Yes, well," the blonde harrumphed, "I decided that you were being an idiot. Now," rolling her eyes, she snapped her fingers at him, "chop, chop."
Dean looked down at his wife in utter disbelief. She really did think that despite what he had repeatedly told her, he would just do as she demanded and write the cheque out right now in front of her. Disgust curled at his lip, "No, Lindsay. I'm not writing you out a cheque."
Dean's head veered back violently as Lindsay struck him across the face, "Yes, you will," the blonde hissed. Jabbing her finger against his chest, his wife berated him, "Now you listen here, Dean Forester. I have put up with just about enough from you. You will make up that cheque and you will make it up right this instant. The realtor, Mrs. Dabbinsky, is waiting right this minute for that cheque in order to finalize the paper work. I will not have you mess this up for me just because you're being a witless jerk."
"The realtor?" Dean asked, confused and rubbing his hand across his stinging cheek.
"Yes, you nitwit," his wife shrieked, "the realtor."
"Lindsay," Dean spat, furious, "how is it that the realtor could be in the process of finalizing the paper work when I never even signed the contract?"
Lindsay, rather than being worried in the least, admitted her fraud, "You were being an idiot," she shrugged, "so I signed the papers for you. Now," Lindsay snapped her fingers again, "write up the damn cheque."
"You signed my name…" Dean repeated, incredulous.
"Yes, Dean, I signed your name," Lindsay confirmed, "geez, get with the program already."
"Get out," Dean yelled.
"But you haven't written the cheque yet!" Lindsay shrieked.
"I told you," he roared, "I'm not writing the damn cheque."
Lindsay looked at him, trembling with rage, "You better, Dean Forester. Or I swear…"
"Out!" Dean took a few steps back, putting some distance between the two of them. The urge to throttle her was too strong to chance it at the moment.
The blonde looked at him as if he were a piece of gum stuck to her shoe, "Mrs. Dabbinsky will be waiting at the Soda Shop at one in the afternoon. You better be there to meet her with the cheque," Lindsay insisted, "once that's done, be sure to go to the bank and fix this whole mess. I realise that the Stars Hollow Bank & Loan will be closed in a couple of minutes, so I won't expect this mess to be sorted out until next week. But I warn you, I've had enough of your little tantrums. You better fix all this and fix it quickly. Do not come back to the apartment until I call you. Understood?"
Friday October 8th 2004, Hartford (Gilmore Manor) 12:17 p.m.
"So," Richard Gilmore began, "if I have understood you correctly, you will still be attending Yale."
Rory looked up her plate of chicken parmesan, "Yes. My counsellor, Dr. Sweets, has me taking a heavier course load this semester. He even got me an independent study course with Professor Williams next semester. There are few more options he is looking into, but the objective would be for me to complete my credits for the years while leaving my schedule flexible for the Winter semester."
Christopher snorted, "You're about to have a baby. I think we can all pretty much agree your schedule will not be flexible for the next eighteen years."
Rory bit her lip and turned her gaze back down towards her plate. Lorelai meanwhile, stabbed at her chicken and glared at Christopher throughout the process. It was clear, to one and all, that her mother was imagining Christopher face as she attacked her meal.
"Good," Richard replied, ignoring Christopher's dig, "good."
Rory closed her eyes and tried not to cry. She should be thankful that things were proceeding so civilly now. When they had arrived and her mother had clashed eyes with her father, Rory had honestly believed that she would have strangled him if given the opportunity. It made Rory wonder what is was exactly that Christopher had told her mother that had upset her that much. Rory had asked about the confrontation between the two on Wednesday, but her mother hadn't been willing to elaborate that much. And in her state, Rory hadn't felt up to prying.
Lorelai Gilmore had a knack for keeping secrets when she wanted to, and Rory hadn't had the energy to contradict her that day.
However, given the tense atmosphere, Rory now wondered whether she should have insisted on knowing the details.
"And the…" Emily began, "child," she finished, wincing, "how is it?"
Rory swallowed a bite of chicken and cleared her throat, "I found out about a month ago, so there isn't much to know yet. They gave me vitamins when the doctor confirmed my pregnancy. Other than that, I just had my first visit with the OB last Tuesday. She didn't do much, just take a couple of vials of blood for tests. If anything's wrong, she'll call me. Otherwise, I won't see her again until November."
Rory bit her lip and hesitated before saying, "I am looking forward to that, though. Dr. Summers said I would be getting my first ultrasound then."
"So soon?" Emily asked, smiling tightly.
"Yes," Rory confirmed, ducking her head down once more. She did not, however, miss the way her father's fist tightened at the news or the way her grandfather paled.
"How about these carrots?" Lorelai interjected, trying to lighten the mood, "they're all so tiny. You would think they had been grown for hobbits to eat –"
"Lorelai," Emily hissed, cutting her daughter off.
"No," her mother grinned, "don't tell me, they really were grown for hobbits. Is Frodo or Bilbo expected soon?"
Rory couldn't help the smile that creeped up even as her mother and grandmother glared at each other. Grandpa, by contrast, simply blinked, dumbfounded. It was apparent that he understood the reference, but it didn't seem like he knew quite what to do with it under the circumstances. For the first time this past hour, Rory the tension in her shoulders reduce. It didn't dissipate, nor did the nausea bubbling up her throat, but it didn't feel as pressing as it had a few moments ago.
Then Christopher threw down his fork loudly against his plate and sat back, crossing his arms. Rory glanced up and saw her father glowering at her from his seat across the table. As his gaze strayed towards her mother, Rory noticed that his expressing morphed into exasperation, fury and even a tinge of hatred.
Startled, Rory folded in on herself, trying to make herself as small as possible. She had never seen such an expression on her father's face before.
It disturbed her.
Friday October 8th 2004, Hartford (Gilmore Manor) 12:23 p.m.
"And the father?" Emily asked.
Startled, Rory looked up at her grandmother. Despite the all-important question, the woman was studiously focused upon her dinner. It didn't take Rory long to realise that her grandmother was not about to apologise for the outrageous accusations she had flung about last Tuesday. Instead, it seemed that the woman was content to overlook the scene and simply pretend she had done nothing worth admonishing.
Concerned only with mending bridges, Rory decided to follow her grandmother's example. Although the notion that her grandmother wouldn't even deign to take the words back stung, "He's not in the picture."
And so, silence descended upon the dinner table.
Chancing a look at her mother, Rory noticed that for the first time that evening, her mother had stopped glaring at Christopher long enough to appear nervous. It wasn't, however, an intimidated kind of nervousness. No, her mother, although fidgety, stared down those around her, her jaw set with determination. In contrast, as she looked about the other occupants of the room, Rory could tell that they were all momentarily befuddled.
Her grandfather, Richard Gilmore appeared as if he had just bitten into a lemon. His mouth hung open, sometimes attempting to form words, but never quite succeeding.
Her scowling father looked at her incredulously, as if he couldn't believe she had been so irresponsible as to become pregnant by a man who wouldn't do his duty.
It made Rory want to snort derisively.
But none, however, surpassed her grandmother. Although the woman must have at least suspected as much from their last conversation, she appeared utterly struck by the confirmation. The shock, however, soon gave way to fury and features were soon overtaken by the most fearsome scowl Rory had ever seen her grandmother sport.
"What do you mean the father isn't part of the picture? Rory?" Emily hissed, her grasp upon her wine glass tightening noticeably.
Rory frowned at her grandmother. She wanted to make amends, but she didn't think grandmother had the right to be so infuriated at the moment. Not after the woman had questioned whether or not Rory had known who the father was. And certainly not after she had pretended she had not done so. Emily Gilmore had had days to ponder their shouting match. The idea had to have crossed her mind. So her grandmother's dissembling, her acting as if she had been utterly unaware of the situation did not sit well with Rory.
In fact, it made her quite angry.
Taking a deep breath in order to calm herself, Rory explained, "What I mean to say is that the situation is very difficult. And due to certain circumstances, I have decided that it would be best if the father was not involved at this time."
"Circumstances?" her grandmother raged, "what circumstances could possibly interfere with the man doing his duty by his child?"
"I don't want to say anything else about the situation," Rory's grip on her utensils tightened, "please respect that."
"Why, Rory?" her grandfather asked, looking so infinitely small for such a large man. He gazed at her pleadingly, but Rory couldn't bring herself to maintain eye contact. Instead, her eyes strayed back towards her barely eaten lunch. What little bluster she had gained at her grandmother's play-acting plummeted in the face of her grandfather's disappointment.
From the corner of her eye, Rory watched as her grandfather's ashen face grew ever more pale. For a moment, she truly worried that the man might faint and she cast a pleading glance in her mother's direction. Lorelai, however, simply shook her head and indicated she should look more closely.
It was then that Rory noticed it. At first, it was nothing more than a small glint in his eyes, but within a matter of moments, Richard's features morphed entirely. It became quite clear that a rather unpalatable thought had occurred to her grandfather. And so, with fury written upon his brow, Richard asked, "He's not refusing to take responsibility for his actions, is he?"
Posted October 9th 2017