"Shira, what in the world is the matter with you?" Mitchum said, exacerbated, a few days after his wife had returned from California.

Shira -who'd been staring off into space- blinked hard. "What? What do you mean?"

"Is Honour all right?"

"Yes."

"Josh? The kids?"

"They're all fine, Mitchum."

"Well then why are you so distracted? You didn't give yourself heat stroke, did you?"

"No, dear."

Mitchum waited for an actual explanation.

"They're so far away," Shira said sadly.

"Honour's been in California for ages. Almost as long as we've been here in London. This has never bothered you before. Are you telling me you've missed your calling -that you want to be a hands-on, glorified babysitter of a grandmother? We had two nannies when Honour was a baby. Really, Shira," he chuckled.

"I know that Mitchum," she sighed. "I'm fine. It's fine. It's nothing. I'm going to bed." Honour wasn't our only child, she'd wanted to say, she isn't our only child. But she held her tongue and downed the rest of her drink, because that was what everyone was accustomed to her doing –it was what people expected and what they got. She put her glass down with enough force that it made a short, sharp clap as it hit the table; she stood up, smoothed her skirt and leaned in to kiss her husband's head, but her lips barely touched him. "Goodnight."


"Why the sour puss?"

"Asks the woman who calls me Groucho."

"Would it be better if the woman's boyfriend asks that?"

"Yes, actually."

"Fine," Mike laughed. "Why the sour puss?"

"I have a date tomorrow night," Jess sighed.

"Excuse me?" Ella gasped. "When were you planning on telling us this?"

"And by 'us', you mean when was I going to tell you, right?"

"Precisely. Spill."

"Down girl," Mike chuckled.

"I'm waiting," Ella said, ignoring her boyfriend's comment but giving his hand a loving squeeze, without taking her eyes off Jess.

"Remember how Kristen's been wanting to set me up?"

"Greg's Kristen?"

"That's the one," Jess confirmed.

"You're letting her?"

"Unfortunately."

Ella giggled. "If you're that thrilled about it, then…."

"Look, she means well, right? She's been offering since –well, for a long time. I had to tell her something."

"You could've told her no."

"I know. What's wrong with me?"

"Looks like your heart's growing instead of shrinking, Mr. Grinch," she winked at him.

Mike was confused. "What's so wrong with being set up?"

"When you're me?" Jess asked. "Everything. Set ups are stupid. As soon as I agreed, I wanted to find a strait jacket for myself. I'm not the guy who says yes to setups."

"Apparently, you are."

"Look, this doesn't mean I think she'll be awful, I just –God, I must be insane."

"Nah," Ella said softly, "you're not insane. Promise. Change is as good as the rest, right? Is she your soulmate? Not likely. But as long as you're not repulsed by her –who knows, you might have… fun!"

Jess smirked and looked around. "Speaking of insane… aren't you tired of living out of a teeny, tiny suitcase, Mike? Just fucking move in with her already."

"We need a bigger place. This two-bedroom is meant for one person and a guest, not for two people to live in together."

"You say that like you've given this some thought, spitfire."

"Maybe we've done more than think about it," she answered quietly.

"Wait… are you… are you moving? In? Together? That's awesome! When?"

"Should I be concerned that he seems more excited than us?" Mike asked sarcastically.

"Maybe," Ella said warily. "Anyway, Jess, don't get ahead of yourself, or… us for that matter. We're looking, that's all. We haven't even gone to see any places yet. But we're looking at listings, figuring out budgets –you know, the boring stuff."

"Now who's keeping secrets, huh?" Jess winked, kissing her forehead. He reached out to shake Mike's hand and yanked him into a hug. "She's your problem now," he whispered in his ear.

"I heard that, you asshole!" Ella shrieked.

Jess and Mike exchanged a look and everyone started to laugh.


"So, you're standing by your initial report?" Lane asked wearily. "You're sure?"

"Yes," Rory laughed, "California was good. I've been back for two weeks; when are you going to stop asking me that?"

"Until I'm sure."

"I thought the whole point of this exercise is that you want me to be sure."

"It is. But then I have to be sure that you're sure."

Hannah looked quizzically between Rory and Lane and started to giggle.

"It really was good," Rory assured her, "fun, even… when I finally let myself calm down a little."

"So, no additional Huntzbergers showed up unannounced, huh?"

"Thank God. When Logan was telling me that Shira had her own room at Honour's house and would show up to stay from time to time –I'm pretty sure I started hyperventilating."

"But, no sightings?"

"No sightings."

"It seems impossible, coming from that family, that Logan's sister could actually be a genuinely nice person," Lane mused.

"It's true though, she is. But I still find myself wondering how too."

"Mom! Can Hannah come to the park with us? We're going to make a snowman and go tobogganing!" Steve asked as he ran in. "Can she, Auntie Rory?"

"Pawk! Pway!" Hannah said excitedly

"I'll make sure they don't get too rambunctious with her," Zach promised.

"Okay," Rory smiled. "But you and your brother have to be gentle with her, okay? She's younger and smaller than you."

"We promise!" Kwan said excitedly. "Thanks Auntie Rory."

"No problem, guys. Have fun!"

"Let's go, Hannah!" Steve said, picking her up from Rory's lap and bringing her to his dad, who was standing next to her stroller, where all her outdoor layers were waiting.

"Make sure she doesn't get too cold, Zach," Rory told him. "She'll have good layers on, but she won't be running around like double trouble, here."

"I'll keep a close eye on her; as soon as she starts getting too cold, we'll come right back –won't we, boys?" Zach asked his sons.

"Yup! Right back!" Kwan nodded happily

"We promise!" Steve smiled.

About ten minutes later, Rory and Lane were alone. Both women took a long, slow, calming breath and revelled in the newfound silence. They knew it wouldn't last long. The brood would be back within an hour, at the most.

"So," Lane said after a minute or so, "you and Logan are good?"

"By 'me and Logan' I assume you're referring to our coupledom, which we have yet to explicitly confirm?"

"Yeah," Lane said simply, without a hint of judgement.

"We're good. Things are calm for the first time in –I don't even know how long. It's… nice," Rory confirmed, feeling a smile creep on to her face and entice the corners of her mouth upwards.

"I'm glad. I know it's just one thing at a time with you guys these days, but that's good too, you know? Anyway. If you're happy, I'm happy."

"I am happy. It feels so foreign."

"You deserve it. You both do, after everything you've been through. Enjoy it."

"I am enjoying it," Rory said, feeling her smile grow wider.


I want to leave…

Ella saw her phone go off during girls' night. She read the message and laughed. "Oh boy," she sighed. Stop texting me while you're on a date! It's rude!

Because I'm NEVER rude…

Jess.

Relax. She's in the bathroom. And she's duller than watching paint dry. I want to leave, El.

"What is it?" Margaret asked.

"It's Jess."

"What's so funny?" Cristina asked.

"He's on a date. Apparently, it's not going well. He wants to leave."

"Wait, back up… Jess is dating? When did he emerge from under his rock?" Margaret asked.

"He's not dating. He's on a date… important distinction," Ella explained. "It's a set up."

"Seriously?!" Cristina laughed. "Who decided to tempt the devil? Who did he allow to tempt the devil?"

"Kristen. Greg's wife."

"Rest in peace, Kristen," Margaret said teasingly. "It's too bad. I really liked her."

"You take your time there, El. Good luck dealing with… that," Cristina said, refilling hers and Margaret's wine glasses.

Ella laughed and let out a sigh as she texted him back. Jess, you can't leave.

Yes I can. It's you who can't be stealthy. My legs work, remember?

You're an asshole.

Shut up. You laughed. You know you did.

Ella smiled as she showed her friends her phone. Both Margaret and Cristina cracked up. "He's got a point," Margaret laughed. "You can't lie and pretend to be offended. He knows you too well."

"Yeah. You taught him to have that sense of humour, El. You taught us all to have that sense of humour," Cristina pointed out.

"Damn it," Ella giggled quietly. …Maybe. But you still can't leave.

I'd pay the bill first!

You can lie and say your BFF is having an emergency. Us girls do it all the time. I can call you and be loud and hysterical; she'll definitely hear.

That's what girls do, huh?

Yup. All the time. Cristina and Margaret are here. We could be hysterical times THREE.

Tell them I say hi. As tempting as that is… you wanna know what guys do? You wanna know what I do? LEAVE.

Assholes leave when women are in the bathroom, Jess.

But they don't make sure the drinks are paid for and that there's a convincing cover story in place. See, El? Not an asshole.

What's your cover story?

I just remembered… I have the plague and I think I'm still contagious. Thanks for the drinks though!

NO!

Half an hour later, there was a knock on Ella's door. "Jess! What the fuck are you doing here? I told you not to leave while she was in the bathroom. Asshole!" she yelled, whacking his arm.

"Hey girls," Jess smirked at Cristina and Margaret. "You wanna tell your friend here to stop assaulting me, so I can explain?"

"El, stop," Margaret said, trying not to laugh.

Ella narrowed her eyes. "Jess Mariano –"

"Whoa, don't go hurling my last name at me like that unless you have proof I deserve it, spitfire," Jess said coolly.

"You're standing here. What more proof do I need?"

"She knows I left, thank you very much. I did what girls do."

"You –what?"

"I told her my best friend needed me."

"Why? What did you tell her?"

"You fell on your face," Jess said nonchalantly, easily and without betraying a hint of humour. He simply shrugged. "I couldn't possibly leave you on the floor all night. Can't have you lapsing into unconsciousness all by yourself, can I?"

Margaret and Cristina started laughing so hard they couldn't catch their breaths. "Well –well done, sir!" Cristina cackled, raising her glass to him.

"Thank you," he smirked.

"Asshole!" Ella shrieked, trying to hold in her own laughter.

"Would you relax? She's Greg's wife's friend. I'm like, three times removed from the situation. She won't be doing any fact checking. I didn't tell her your name. She probably doesn't even know you know either Kristen or Greg. But on the off chance that she is super thorough, I'll give you a heads up if you need a few bruises."

"How in the world would you ensure such a thing?"

"I'll tell you that wearing heels is a good idea for once."

"Thanks for the warning," Ella rolled her eyes.

"Well, I won't keep you. Enjoy girls night! Ladies," Jess smiled at Cristina and Margaret, "don't let her get so drunk that she tries to run any marathons. The most I need her –for authenticity's sake- is bruised, not broken."

"Goodnight, Jess," the girls said, laughing. "You're a legend."

"Why thank you. I try. G'night spitfire. Have fun."

"Jess wait," Ella sighed, smiling sympathetically, "I'm sorry it sucked."

"That's okay. It felt good to get out. Change is as good as the rest, right?" he winked.

"Yeah. Hey, if you want manly company, give Mike a call. Regale him with proof of why setting you up is a bad idea."

"You know, I think I will."

"Good," Ella smiled.


Logan returned from a long day at The Stamford Eagle and let his head fall into his hands.

"What's the matter?" Rory asked softly.

"Daddaaaa," Hannah said as she reached for him.

Logan kissed his daughter's head and sighed. "Ace, we've got a problem."

"What is it?" she asked.

"The Stamford Eagle… it's going under. I might not be able to save it," Logan answered quietly.

"But you spent a year… you did fix it."

"Yeah, I did. But we're haemorrhaging again. Have been for about six months."

Rory sat down next to him and blinked hard. "I don't understand. Six months? But, how –why didn't you say anything?"

"Because you were dealing with enough, Ace. We were dealing with enough. Things between us got calm again and I –I just didn't want to jinx anything. I thought I could fix it."

"Maybe you still can. I'll help you."

"Can you rewind the clock twenty years? It's 2019, Rory. There's no market for a pokey little regional newspaper. There's barely enough market for the Time's and Tribune's of this business."

"What're you going to do?"

"Bust my ass trying to save it. I did before. Maybe I can again."

"And if you can't?" Rory asked nervously.

"I don't know," Logan said gravely. "Try and find something else in this end of Connecticut, I guess. We'll see. But as of right now… you're asking me what I'm going to do? What we're going to do? I have no clue, Rory… I haven't the faintest clue."


About a week after his failed blind date, Jess came clean with Greg.

"Ella never fell, did she?" he asked knowingly.

"I never said Ella's name, how'd you know?"

"Basic deductive logic; there's only one friend any of us have who might need help if she fell on her face, and it's not because she's a sloppy drunk," Greg laughed.

"You didn't share your brilliant logic with your wife, did you?" Jess asked.

"Nah, but if Kristen asks Ella anything, she'll play along, no physical evidence necessary," Greg winked.

"She was a nice woman, Greggers; attractive too! Just a little… dull."

"If you're not interested, there's no use in prolonging the torture. I totally get it man. No harm. It's all good. Thanks for humouring Kristen."

"Happy wife, happy life, right?"

"Right."

"Well then, happy to help."


Mercifully, Jess' blind date never asked after him or the girl who fell; the whole incident was a distant fading memory within two weeks.

One morning Jess wandered into a second-hand and antique bookstore that was one of his favourites in Brooklyn. "Beware of The Great Gatsby. I've read it a few times, because it's short and harmless enough right? Well, don't be fooled. I've read it five times –still trying to figure out what's so Great about Gatsby," he said to a petite auburn-haired woman browsing the same clearance table as he was.

She laughed softly. "Maybe I'm drawn to enigmas."

"Enigma solved… Gatsby's not that Great. You're welcome," Jess smirked.

"I wasn't referring to the character as the enigma. I'm much more intrigued by the enigma of why so many people think he's great," she clarified with a smirk of her own. "I've read the book a few times myself and you're right. It's not terrible, but it's certainly nothing special. So how did it earn such a highly respected place in North America's literary canon?"

"Gatsby literally equals the American dream. At the end of the novel, he mysteriously dies, or disappears, depending on your reading. Ergo, the disappearance or death of Gatsby equals the death of the American dream, as personified by the stock market crashes of the thirties after the Roaring Twenties."

"Wow, you've got this all figured out, don'tcha…" she laughed, turned and faced him but stopped short when she realized she didn't know his name.

"Jess," he said, offering his hand with a smile. "I'm Jess." Whoever she was, she had a pale but rosy complexion, startlingly bright green eyes and soft, wavy, light auburn hair that fell to her shoulders. Her laugh was bright and melodic.

"I'm Kathleen. Nice to meet you Jess," she smiled. She liked how warm his hands were, how dark his eyes were; instantly, she found his lopsided smirk endearing. "So that was quite the analysis. Are you a college professor or something?"

Jess cackled loudly. "A world of no. I'm just a good old-fashioned bookworm. What about you? That's a pretty ambitious mission you're on, there –trying to figure out what made Gatsby great in the eyes of North America's literary canon, as you so eloquently put it. You're the one who must be a college literature professor. I'm just a guy who reads books."

"Well, now it might be even more embarrassing for me to admit that my answer is also no. I, too, am just a good old-fashioned bookworm. I wish I had a more interesting life story, but I'm just a gal who reads books. And thinks way too much about those books."

"There's no such thing," he assured her with a wink. "Don't let anyone put it in your head that it's remotely possible to think way too much about books."

"Okay, I promise."

"You better, or I'll happily beat up whoever is filling your head with such nonsense. I'm just surprised I've never seen you in here before. I come here a lot. It's my go-to for literary gems. And I don't have a terrible memory –if I'd seen you in here at some point before today, I'd definitely remember you."

Kathleen felt herself blush. Was he… flirting with her? If he was, he was doing it perfectly – friendly, warm, but not overblown or overbearing. Just… lighthearted and fun. If only every conversation a woman found herself in with an attractive stranger could be this pleasant. Suddenly she realized that she'd been silent for nearly thirty seconds and his comment implied the need for a response. "Oh! I, uh –I got lost in thought I guess. I do that sometimes. I actually just moved to Brooklyn a few weeks ago from Oregon."

"Wow, that's a long way."

"New job."

"That would be a pretty solid reason for coming such a long way."

"And a… well, an ex-boyfriend actually, who made it quite clear that he wants nothing to do with me. Which freed me up to take the dream job I almost passed up because I was convinced I'd found my soulmate. That reminds me, I should thank him eventually –you know, for breaking my heart and leaving me free to chase my dreams."

Jess chuckled softly.

"I'm sorry, that was really personal, and I don't even know you." Kathleen felt her cheeks grow hot in embarrassment.

"No. Don't be embarrassed! I agree… you should totally thank him. Throw it back in his face that your life is great now that you're rid of him."

Kathleen giggled. "Well, anyway –new city, new job. I've been here about six weeks and this is the first chance I've had to scope out the best local book joints."

"Well, this is the cream of the crop in this area of the city. I'm in here a few times a month. You gotta commit to regular browsing –you never know what diamonds might be hiding in the rough."

"The collection really is impressive in here," Kathleen said, casting her eyes back to all the bookshelves.

"I guess I'll see you around then, huh?" Jess asked with a smile.

"Yup, looks that way," Kathleen grinned. "Especially to make sure I find those diamonds in the rough. Now I know I have to come back."

"That you do."

"Can't let them all get scooped up by people who aren't me."

"I think that's an excellent plan, Kathleen. Beauty and brains; sounds like you've got it all."

"If you say so."

"I barely know you, but I've got a hunch."

"And how accurate are these hunches of yours, usually?"

"Fifteen years ago, they sucked," Jess chuckled.

"And now?" Kathleen asked.

"Impressively bankable."

"Duly noted. Nice to meet you, Jess."

"Nice to meet you too, Kathleen," he smirked as he walked backwards away from her, a first edition of The Poisonwood Bible tucked under his arm. "I'd better run into you soon. I'm just dying to know what makes Gatsby so great, according to North American literary canon. I need to know why people think he's so great." He winked before turning his back on her, paying for his book and stepping outside into the cold February sunlight.