A/N: I am so far behind. I've been working on the Summer of Sam Love fic exchange and it's been busy. So I'm sorry this is late--next week I hope to be back on track. Thanks!
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Lorelai had discovered her inner-housewife. Lane had three kids. Paris was getting married. And Dean had resigned himself to working the family business.
All in all, this was far too much change for Rory. She'd come back home for the stability, not to have her life completely thrown for a loop. Why didn't the people in her life understand that?
That just left two places she could go for comfort. Her grandparents, of course, were always an option. She was fairly certain they hadn't changed since 1973, and that was being generous.
However, she still wasn't quite keen on telling them about her job situation. They'd support her, naturally, but she needed some time to build up her career as Stars Hollow's latest reporter before trying to brag it up in front of them.
So, there was only one option left. The place that would never let her down: Luke's.
In truth, it had become her refuge. Yes, she liked being home again, but it didn't feel the same. It was so homey and familiar and foreign all at once. It was like she just didn't quite fit there anymore, and sleeping in the same room she'd grown up in was simply weirding her out. She wanted to get out and away, only she seemed to have forgotten that there was no place out and away in Stars Hollow.
Luke's may not have met those criteria. But there was food. There was internet access. And there was Luke.
Sarcastic Luke. Distant Luke. Emotionally stunted Luke. Her mother's Luke. Luke Luke.
If nothing else, he was fun to watch--sniping at customers, dealing with the daily traffic with the grace of a gorilla attempting ballet.
Yet, he was so good at it. His whining and complaining and snarking aside. He was good at what he did and that, more than the greasy food, was why people came back.
All sorts of people. The old ladies, the grumpy old men, the rushed businessmen, the frenzied housewives. Even the teenagers with their first jobs.
Even Dean Forester.
Dean Forester?
She nearly choked on her coffee when he came in, his gait easy and large, going straight up to the counter. He was quite clearly focused, so focused that he didn't even see her nestled in a table at the back of a restaurant.
Which was fine by her. She liked talking to him, but watching him was almost just as fun, though perhaps a bit more stalkerish. He was all tall and attractive and he even managed to make ordering coffee rather sexy.
She was far away, so she could only hear the deep rumble of his voice, not the words. But there was a lightness in his tone that she didn't recognize, one that she had not been graced with yet.
And then, to make things even weirder, Luke smiled at him and said something back.
This banter continued, back and forth, until Dean's food magically came from nowhere and he headed back out the door just as quick as he'd come.
Like he did it all the time.
Which, so did not make sense in Rory's mind. Dean had been at Luke's many times, yes, but she knew for a fact that Dean and Luke were not on good terms. Whatever relationship they'd managed to develop during the course of her relationship with Dean had evaporated after the affair. Luke hadn't approved of Dean, moreover hadn't approved of Rory and Dean, and she knew that Dean broke up with her that final time, the bitterness between them never faded. Luke didn't talk about it really, and why would he? But still, Rory knew.
Just like she knew something had changed. Changed enough that Dean had a regular order, the Dean had worked there, for goodness sakes.
Whether it was the Rory in her or the journalist, she wanted to know what and how and when and why. Okay, and where, but the who was already kind of answered.
Picking up her coffee cup, she drained it and headed to the counter where Luke was busy at work.
"So," she said. "What's a girl got to do to get some more coffee?"
Luke looked up at her with a glare. "Seriously. More?"
She shrugged. "I need to keep you in business somehow."
He rolled his eyes, moving to the coffee pot and filling her cup absently. "There," he said. "No go back and enjoy your buzz."
Rory took a sip of the steaming brew. "So, Dean's a regular?" "What?" Luke asked, distracted by the order he was putting together.
"Dean Forester. You didn't even ask him what he wanted. You just knew. A coffee--black--and a toasted bagel with cream cheese."
"Low-fat," Luke corrected, digging out an extra thing of cream cheese for the bagel he was toasting. "And the bagel's wheat."
"Since when is Dean a regular?"
Luke looked up at her finally, confused. "You've been gone a long time, kiddo," he said.
"But so has Dean," Rory protested.
"Yes, but he had a little thing called summer vacation. He was home every break."
That made sense. It did. Perfectly logical. Lane had even said as much. But there was still something missing. Something fundamentally not making sense. "But Dean doesn't even like you," Rory said.
At that, Luke scowled, plucking the newly toasted bagel out of the toaster.
"I mean, you weren't on good terms. The whole thing with him and me and Lindsay--"
"I remember," Luke said, a little gruff, plopping the bagel on the plate.
"So--?"
"So, you've been gone a long time, Rory," Luke said, and Rory could see he was trying to restrain himself. From what, she wasn't sure, but the effort was obvious, she knew Luke that well. "A lot can change in five years."
"I guess so," Rory said. "I just, I mean--what happened?"
He actually smiled a little at that. "You mean, you, Rory Gilmore, Ivy League grad, can't figure that out?"
"Can't figure what out?"
Lifting the plate, he made his way around the counter. "That five years is a long time," Luke said. "And that people change. There's no big mystery. They just change. Even in Stars Hollow."
Rory slumped at the stool, perplexed. She knew people changed. That was so obvious that it barely was worth talking about. But changed how? Why? What was Luke not telling her? When had Dean Forester suddenly become a staple at his diner and when had Luke stopped harboring such ill feelings? It wasn't that these weren't all good things and fine things, but they were things that Rory wasn't privy to. Things she didn't know about.
That simply did not jive with the journalist in her.
Okay, and it didn't jive with the Rory in her.
When Luke made his way back around the counter, she barraged him with questions anew. "What kind of changes?"
"Excuse me?" he asked, looking up from another order.
"What kind of changes?" she asked again, more insistently this time. "I mean, like Dean suddenly became addicted to wheat bagels and Taylor refuses to carry them at the market? Or like Dean decided that breakfast at home was too boring? Or what?"
He laughed, shaking his head. "You know, you could try asking Dean those questions."
She opened her mouth to protest, but nothing came out. She closed it again, frustrated. There were things here she needed to know. Why was it all so difficult suddenly?
And why was she angsting so much about this? Luke was right. It was simple. And asking questions was a fundamental tenant of good journalism. And of all the people to feel shy around, Dean wasn't it. She could always figure him out when she wanted to, and now was no different. She didn't need Luke and his ambiguity. She could do it herself.
"Okay," she said, her resolve bolstered. "I will."
Luke barely even looked up at her as he took out another cup of coffee.
Which was fine by her. Luke was her mother's boyfriend, sort of. And that was a headache in and of itself that she did not feel like sorting out.
-o-
Two articles and a recipe under her belt, Rory was beginning to discover that Stars Hollow was strangely exactly the same and totally different. An apparent dichotomy, she supposed, but there was no other way around it. How else could she explain that everything looked the same? That people moved in and out of the town like they always had? The places were the same, the faces were the same, yet whenever she tried to talk, to interact, to do anything, the reaction was fundamentally different. Even her mother had an odd Yoda-like quality to her advice now (without the backwards way of speaking, of course) and she was gardening.
It was good to be home, Rory guessed. People loved her writing--they ooh'ed and aah'ed over her and Miss Patty nearly attacked her with an uncharacteristically sincere hug. Rent was cheap, rather nonexistent, which was ideal since she made virtually no money. And so it was good...but not what she expected. After nearly a week, she felt as out of place as she ever had, even though she was living and breathing in the familiarity of the simplest place she'd ever known.
Her mother was oddly busy, either with perplexing hobbies or with Luke. Lane was always attacked by small children whenever they managed to get on the phone together. And Rory didn't want to push the friend card with Dean too hard else he might turn into a turtle and tuck into his shell permanently.
A week of it made her ready to succumb to the inevitable--visiting her grandparents.
It was Friday night, after all, and even her mother still consenting to Friday Night Dinners. Rory had gotten out of the first one with the claim of being exhausted from her extensive moving ordeal.
She would not get out of this one. Lorelai claimed it was part of her rent.
When Rory pointed out that she didn't pay rent, her mother said that was the point. "Indentured servitude serves the purpose," Lorelai said. "You're just lucky that I only want to coerce you into a fancy dinner with people who love you. Just think of what I could get you to do if I were really mean."
"There are surely laws against this kind of thing."
"Pretty sure you'd need to sign a lease for laws to apply."
"You mean your name being on my birth certificate isn't enough?"
"Apparently not," Lorelai said. "But hey, don't worry. They're just thrilled to know you're back. They're so focused on that that they're not going to comment on the fact that you're writing recipes for a local paper they can barely tolerate receiving"
"Gee, thanks."
Her mother smiled broadly.
"Anytime."
-o-
"I can't believe you still go to these," Rory muttered.
"I can't believe you thought you could get out of them."
"I thought it was all a deal about the money," Rory said. "You know, way back when I got into Chilton."
Her mother snorted a little with laughter, straightening her dress as she stood at the door. "Yeah, well, somewhere along the line, it became about family, didn't it? I'm pretty sure that's your fault, you and all your well-intentioned bonding and unabashed displays of affection and interest. If we'd gone with my plan and been cynical and abrasive, we could have been uninvited years ago."
"You're still cynical and abrasive."
"But very charmingly so," her mother countered. "And now it's less directed at them."
"Do you ever take Luke here?"
"You're the crazy one who liked to drag your boyfriends to be subjected to their scrutiny, not me. Which is weird since you always had far more to lose. They already disliked everything I did and were infinitely disappointed in my tastes. You, you had potential."
There was truth to that, as most things that came out of her mother's mouth did. "It wasn't that bad."
"Do you remember what they did to Dean?"
How could Rory forget? They'd ridiculed him, demeaned him, and made him feel utterly inept and unworthy.
And suddenly, she remembered the look on Dean's face. That look like he somehow believed that her grandfather had been right. A look that Rory had tried to ease, but not hard enough. The same look she'd ignored years later when he broke up with her in their driveway, at the party they designed to distract her from things like Dean.
For a second, she really hoped Luke was right. She didn't want things to be like they had been then. She didn't want to be like she had been then, letting him be disparaged in one way or another, letting him drive away feeling like less than he was. And to think, both times, he'd done it for her.
"You sure you're up to this?" her mother asked, and Rory became aware that Lorelai was watching her.
"Yes," she said quickly. "Of course."
Her mother just shook her head. "Brave, foolish girl," she said and rang the doorbell.
-o-
Brave and foolish indeed. But these were her grandparents. At times, pretentious. Occasionally controlling. But always with her best interest at heart, for better or for worse.
And they'd missed her. They really, really had.
As if she'd been in doubt, her grandmother swooped on her the instant she was inside, fawning and as close to hugging as they really got.
"Oh, Rory, we've so been looking forward to seeing you again," her grandmother gushed. "It just hasn't been the same without your presence at our weekly dinners."
"Gee, I'm really feeling the love," Lorelai said.
Her grandmother's mood was so buoyant, that she didn't even respond to the comment. She didn't even blink.
"Thanks, Grandma," Rory said. "It's hard to believe it's been so long."
"Yes, your trips home got rather infrequent," her grandmother noted, moving them to the sitting room.
"Yes, well, all those miles and states between here and Michigan makes it rather difficult," Lorelai suggested.
At that, her grandmother did cast a glare at her, though a brief one.
"Even so, it seemed like she never got enough vacation time."
"Well, I was new," Rory said diplomatically. "I wanted to make myself as available as I could. That way, I could build up confidence with the editors and that led to a better likelihood at getting the better stories."
Her grandmother beamed. "Always looking ahead," she said. "That's my Rory. You know, your grandfather very much enjoyed your piece on the banking crisis with the Michigan State Bank. Very in-depth reporting. You even quoted the governor."
Rory felt herself blushing. True, it was one of her better pieces and one that sat proudly at the front of her portfolio. And it wasn't like she didn't relish the compliments. She just had forgotten how effusive her grandmother could be. "Well, it was a brief phone conversation," Rory said with a shrug. "Not even five minutes."
"Still," her grandmother said, moving to the drinks. "Impressive. Can I get you ladies some wine?"
"Oh, yes, please," her mother chimed in quickly. "Quickly before we drown in the Rory-praise."
Her grandmother glared again. "I would think you'd be prouder of her, Lorelai."
"Proud, yes, I'm very proud," her mother said, seating herself on the couch. "So proud that I've considered making a shrine to her in my closet. But then I wasn't sure what I'd do with my clothes. "
Drinks in hand, her grandmother swiftly handed one to Rory before offering one to her mother. "Lorelai, please. She's your daughter."
Rory just grinned at the verbal back and forth, taking a seat next to her mother. There was no doubting the pride--from either of them. They were equally glowing when it came to her achievements, and she'd never had much doubt to the contrary. But while her grandmother gushed praises and heralded bragging rights, her mother opted for sarcastic glorification and increased joking. The occasional extra cup of coffee without prompting was another dead giveaway.
Love came in many different forms in the Gilmore family. Rory couldn't deny that she cherished them all.
"Really, Mom? My daughter? Somewhere between pushing her out of my body and paying for her dental work for 18 years, I sort of forgot that."
Her grandmother rolled her eyes, before seating herself across from them. "And if I ever tried to forget that you were mine, your endless sarcastic diatribes would help me remember."
Lorelai leaned in close to her. "Can't you just feel the love? I'll bet you totally missed this."
Rory swallowed a small sip. "There's nothing quite like it," she agreed. "And it gives me some comfort to know that no matter how much changes, the people I care about will always be here."
"Why of course we will, dear," her grandmother said. "Your grandfather should be here shortly. He was awfully excited to talk to you about everything."
"Hey, maybe we can hear again about your exciting interview with the governor!" her mother chimed in.
"Lorelai, really, you haven't been this bad in months," her grandmother said. "I though we were getting past this."
"Aw, I've just missed my greatest audience," she said. "No one can make me crack a comment like Rory can."
"Your daughter at least knows how to turn it off," her grandmother said sternly.
Rory could take either side of this issue, clearly, because both of them were as right as they were wrong, which was quite typically the case when it came to her mother and her grandmother. Through the banter, there was love now, that much was plainly clear, and Rory figured the back and forth was as much an expression of that as it was pure personality differences. Truth was, her mother and grandmother were likely very much the same, but obstinate in the appearance of difference. After all, her mother still didn't want to be controlled and her grandmother still wanted to control, which made them equally abrasive in their nonstop desire to in fact be in charge of the relationship. Through mutual animosity they were able to find a common ground.
That was far too much of a thought for a Friday night.
Still, it was hard not to think such thoughts. It'd been too long since she'd been here, in the presence of her family, living among them, knowing them like this. So intimate.
How many Friday nights had she missed?
With another sip of her wine, the only answer that came to her was too many.