"I told you not to listen to that guy," Rory popped a piece of ice out of what had been an iced latte—though whether actual coffee had been involved in the process of making her drink was more than questionable. It tasted suspiciously like iced-down Swiss Miss to her. They'd stopped because it was the first building in a hundred miles; it had bathrooms, gas, cold beverages, and apparently a half-wit named Jim Bob that gave Tristan directions to a shortcut to the interstate, which continued to elude them. "It's going to be dark in a few hours."
"You're starting to sound like a cheesy horror movie," Tristan admonished. "We'll be home by nightfall. He said to turn off on a gravel road when we pass a dilapidated barn—I've yet to see a barn. He probably just got the mileage wrong."
"I'm shocked he knew the word dilapidated," Rory mused. "I mean, he was wearing bib overalls as if they were a fashion statement."
"He didn't use the word," Jake snorted. "I believe his exact phrasing was, 'Onest ya'll get down there ter the ol' barn, one that the last twister hit real hard, but it's still a-standin'," Jake did a spot on imitation.
"Now that sounds like something Overall Man might have said," Rory raised an amused eyebrow at her husband. "So, we're driving further into the middle of nowhere, looking for a structure that may have fallen down since Cooter last saw it?" she summarized.
"His name was Jim Bob… Cooter was the guy that came in for beer," Tristan clarified.
"These are all nicknames, right?" Jake asked, his head peeking over the armrest that separated his parents.
"Just do me a favor and don't bring home any girls called Missy or Sissy or Bitty," Rory pleaded.
"Hey—I dated a Sissy," Tristan defended. "And a Missy; a Trixie; Sugar; Sweetie," he continued until Rory pinched him right under his ribs.
"What about Lem?" she inquired.
"Lem?"
"It's short for Lemon," she crunched more ice.
"Who would name their kid Lemon?" Tristan asked, true mystification covering his features as he paused his search for a tornado-weary barn to look at his wife.
"She went to school with us! She was a Puff."
"Oooh! And a Muffin," he cleared his throat. "Briefly."
Rory rolled her eyes. "They were all brief."
"I think it's safe to say that I won't be dating anyone who sounds like they just fell off a dessert tray," Jake assured them.
"Hey is that…." Tristan peered out the front windshield, looking at what he hoped wasn't a mirage.
"What used to be a barn—there's the gravel road!" Rory crunched her ice happily.
"Thank you, Cooter," Tristan mused.
"Jim Bob," Jake corrected.
"Whatever," Tristan muttered as he navigated them off the pavement and toward their new home.
XXXX
Rosa prepared her speech one last time as she gave a courtesy knock with one hand, easing the door open with the other. That gave the two people on the couch just enough time to yank cushions off of the back of the couch to hide the evidence of their clearly disrobed state.
"Ohmigod!" she shielded her eyes, turning immediately so that her back faced the pair to be safe, despite aching to remain looking on to confirm that the girl hadn't had long brown hair and piercing blue eyes.
"I was looking for Grey," she offered honestly.
"He's not here," Pax nearly yelped.
"You know where he is?" she continued on, propriety be damned. It was college, after all. She did have the good sense not to giggle as she heard the rustling of clothes and the unmistakable sound of zippers being fastened.
"Uh, he said something about his advisor's office—he was babbling about camping, dreams, poems—I don't know exactly what his problem was."
"Right," she frowned, taking steps toward the door now, still not looking back at the pair. "I'm just gonna go. Tell him to call me?"
"Sure."
"Oh, and um, nice to meet you," she offered with a backward wave and then was gone. Once on the other side of the door, she shuddered and wondered just how she'd keep this morsel of information from Ella.
XXXX
Lorelai let herself in through her back door, having made a pit stop visit at her neighbor's house to chat after work. It was still light well past dinner time, and she enjoyed the way the summer lifestyle held on through the beginnings of fall, even though people's schedules went the way of structure; school and work in full swing. Her house itself, however, was darker than normal at this hour. She knew Luke was home, yet there were no lights on to cast a light down the hallway toward her. As she edged down the hall toward the living room, she saw the faint glow of candles. Stepping full on into the room, she gasped a bit, then broke out into a full smile as she saw the candles, flowers, and dinner laid out on a blanket on the floor.
"Hey, you're home. I was just going to search the neighborhood," he stood up from where he'd been arranging the food to come give her a kiss.
"You should have; I was at Babette's," she leaned against him. "What's all this?"
"Well, I was going to have a fire, but it's still too warm out, and I didn't have any firewood chopped, so I thought candles would be enough; of course, realizing we didn't have any firewood made me think of about ten other things I need to do before winter, so I made a list," he leaned his head to one side as she smiled at his derailment of thought.
"You're such a good provider."
"Sit down," he urged, taking her bags from her and letting her ease onto the floor as she looked over the spread.
"Oh my God! You made cheesecake, the fancy tater tots, Pop Tarts, filet mignon, and Pixie Stix? Is it our anniversary?"
"No," he shook his head as he joined her back on the floor, grabbing the vegetables he'd prepared for himself. "This is just one of those spontaneous things that we guys get to do to surprise the woman that puts up with us."
She arched an eyebrow. "I thought it was the other way around."
He shrugged. "I felt bad, you seemed really freaked out after I wouldn't let that stupid news segment go," he trailed off.
She nodded and tapped the floor with a Pixie Stix. "Am I that transparent?"
"I know you pretty well by now—I should have known better not to harp on it," he clarified.
"No, it was stupid. I mean, it's not us, right?"
"Right," he nodded, not lying but feeling as if he were. They hadn't been on the news, but that didn't make their wedding any more official. "But it worked out well—you still get a romantic evening, right?"
She smiled. "I should make you feel guilty more often, I definitely agree. Have you done anything else I shouldn't know about for another week? I have my eye on this pair of shoes," she grinned wickedly.
"Maybe we'll just have to come up with an occasion you need new shoes for," he leaned in toward her, kissing her shoulder.
"Okay," she said cautiously. "Where is Luke and what have you done with him?"
"I'm serious. We could renew our vows or something."
"Renew our vows?" she asked, popping three tater tots in her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. "Why?"
"Why not?"
"Luke, you hate dressing up; you hate speaking in front of big audiences; you hate dancing; you hate basically everything that a wedding entails. And you seriously want to reenact our wedding for no apparent reason?"
"It wouldn't have to be exactly like our first wedding; we could do things differently. You always said you'd loved to have gotten married in a more private ceremony," he reminded her.
"I just didn't want my mother there, picking at my dress and hair and choice of canapés, or the fact that our son was the ring bearer," she groaned. "I mean, what were we supposed to do with him? Hide him in a cupboard until all the relatives went home?"
"Well, your mother wouldn't be at this one," he offered with a smile.
"You give her so little credit. You think Emily Gilmore couldn't muster it up to get her gauzy, ghostly self to a church to tell me that daisies are nothing more than a weed and don't belong growing in a churchyard, never mind the fact they are inappropriate to carry as one's bouquet?"
Luke chuckled. "We'll have a séance first."
"You mean an exorcism," she corrected.
"Whatever. What else would you have changed?"
"Hmm," she tore open a Pixie Stix and poured some on her tongue. "Well, I would have made sure Kirk was wearing underwear under that kilt."
Luke shuddered—both at the visual image she'd just conjured up and the fact that Kirk was the one responsible for getting him into this mess in the first place.
"I would have made sure Patty hadn't had the microphone on when she told me that Rory had disappeared into the stables with Tristan at the reception," she shook her head in amusement, "Though it was pretty funny when everyone turned to see them coming out, him picking straw out of her hair."
"That wasn't funny," he gruffed.
"Luke, they're married now. She made an honest man of him, it's okay," she teased. "Let's see. Mom's dead, so she got hers," she teased. "I wouldn't change anything else."
"Nothing else? Not the color of your dress?"
"I don't see why you were so insistent on my wearing white. Our son was the ring bearer. My daughter was my maid of honor. The jig was up, oh so long before we got married. Even the Reverend has asked me to be the Woman of Questionable Morals for the reenactment, remember?"
Luke sighed. "I just thought that brides wore white—not pink."
"It wasn't pink; there was pink on it. There's a difference. What about you; what would you change, other than the color of my dress?" she asked the last part like it was killing her to even mention again.
"Well, like you said, the underwear thing," he began. "I don't know. Fewer people, maybe just us and an officiator."
"You would have put Will in the cupboard?" she asked.
"No; but most kids don't see their parents get married. We could have left him with Sookie."
"Well, it was his second home," she nodded. "But Sookie would have maimed me if we didn't let her come and cater the whole thing."
"If we disappointed everyone, then at least they'd all be even," he pointed out.
"Okay, you would have had a mountain-in-the-woods wedding. Bark for appetizers? You would have interlinked arms and fed me wild berries for dessert?" she teased.
"You know, if we renewed our vows, we could have a second honeymoon," he argued.
"You mean the first one is over? I better start wearing night cream and rollers to bed," she took a drink of wine.
"You won't even think about this?"
"When would we have time to plan a wedding? Work is crazy right now, we'll have Will and Anna's wedding to plan," she ticked off reasons not to.
"It might not be ideal, but I think it would be nice to do something for us."
"Then let's just get away—finally take a trip that we always say we're gonna make time to take. Who needs the hassle of a wedding? We'll just jump in the car and go somewhere fabulous."
"Lorelai," he sighed.
"It's sweet, really, that you thought of all of that, but our wedding was perfect—even with all the little imperfections and unforeseen happenings. Really, I don't need a do over. I just need more nights, just like this—spontaneous and romantic time alone with you. That's all I need."
He should have been relieved at her words, but a nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him that the only way he could keep her from the pain of knowing the truth of the situation was for her to agree to a renewal. But he had to kiss her, and linger against her, as she spoke words that he'd hoped to hear from her at this stage of her life. That she was happy with her reality as she knew it. She wouldn't change a thing.
He wished he didn't have to, either.
XXXX
The day after the group cat-fight, Dave had refused to speak to Will. Their rooms had officially been switched, so that Will and Anna were bunking together, and Dave was no longer in fear of breaking the rules by sleeping in the same bed as his wife. If Will was in the dining room, Dave declared himself not hungry; he switched group therapy sessions because of a sudden headache, and generally sidestepped any confrontation.
But when his sister showed up at his doorstep on Monday afternoon, he had no choice but to let her in. She smiled as she leaned into the door frame, watching him move to sit on the unmade bed before she stepped into the room.
"You guys have a fight?" he asked. "It's not too late to get an annulment, then no one would ever have to find out," he began.
"Dave," she sighed. "I'm married. We're not getting an annulment. Our only problem right now is that my brother won't speak to or look at my husband."
"I'm not going to apologize; I'm not the one that ran off and got married without telling anyone."
"No, but I am. And you're talking to me."
"You're my sister, and it's not like I believe this was your idea."
"No matter whose idea it was, I can assure you that I wanted this just as much as he did. If not more," she put her left hand, which now sported her wedding-banded ring finger.
"How are you going to tell Mom and Dad?"
"We don't know, yet," she admitted.
"Luke and Lorelai?"
"Again, we're not sure," she frowned.
"Are you going to tell them together, or tell one set first to get them to help you out, assuming they will," he rambled.
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"You know—and I'm going to assume that by the time we get home you will have gotten over yourself enough to be happy for us and want to help us break out news in the easiest way possible," she led.
Dave shrugged.
"Come on," she nudged him with her shoulder. "You're going to tell me you aren't happy for me?"
"Well, you two are perfect one another—stubborn, headstrong, annoying," he smiled as he continued.
"Go talk to him. Make nice, and we'll all go to dinner together."
"Ann, just because you're married doesn't mean you can start bossing us around."
"I've been bossing you around for years. Now go," she pointed to the door.
"I'm your older brother. I'm allowed to be concerned for you. I've always looked out for you," he reminded.
"Yes, you have. And you know who else always has looked out for me?" she prodded.
"Dad?" he offered, hopeful not to let her win this conversation.
"Davey," she wrinkled her nose.
"Don't make me say it."
"You not saying it doesn't make it any less true," she baited. "You know you're happy about this, somewhere deep, deep, deep down."
He tilted his head and gave in. "I couldn't image anyone more suited for you than Will. I think most of the nights he spent over at our house were more to be near you than me," he consented. "But I don't have to like that you guys skulked off."
Anna sighed. "We didn't skulk. There was just so much hovering over us. All the preparations would have killed us; we were already trying to figure out if all the backlash from my rape would get in our way, or if his feelings from what Bree did to him would cause problems later on," she shook her head. "But then, we realized that we needed the other one to get through any problems we've had in the past, and we'll need each other for any problems that might crop up. It's just always been him, and that's never going to change. We didn't need anyone to tell us that, and we wanted our wedding to be just ours. We'll figure out how to tell our parents, we really will. And we think everyone, in the end, will be happy."
Dave hugged his sister and kissed the top of her head. "Fine, I'll talk to him. But I reserve the right to put him in a headlock."
Anna nodded solemnly, holding all comments about how Will could totally take him to herself. "Mal and I will stand by with a hose."
Dave shook his head and left his sister alone in his room, off to go talk to his oldest friend and new brother-in-law.
XXXX
Jules groaned at the unraveling mess of yarn that kept falling off the needles and onto her lap.
"GAH! Crap! I suck."
"You don't suck," Gwen reassured her. "It just takes a while to get the hang of it. Try again," she encouraged.
Jules looped the thread like she was shown the first thirty times, and then she emitted an apartment-filling groan that brought Jess out from the kitchen.
"Still?"
"She's trying," Gwen shot him a look to shut him up, to no avail.
"Hey, you know what the definition of insanity is?" he asked.
"She'll get it. Practice makes perfect."
"There is something to be said for prodigies," Jess smirked.
"She only has another six months," Ambrose came through to grab a soda. "What possessed you to learn to knit?"
"I want to do something nice for the baby," she frowned as the yarn slipped through her fingers again.
"What about doing something nice for your existing sibling that likes peace and quiet?" he prodded.
Jules leaned her head back to glare at her father. "Can we ship him off to live with Aunt Rory in Raleigh? Just because Jake's gone, he insists on being in a mood."
"I think he'd rather be carted off to live with Ella," Jess surmised, earning a glare and a walk-off from his son.
"Someone's grumpy," he called after him in jest, just before the door slammed shut. "What happened with the girl?" Jess posed the question to his daughter.
"Like I care—hey, I did it!" she held up the beginning of a chain, but her finger slipped and it was gone as suddenly as it appeared. "Crap," she muttered.
"How is Rory?" Gwen glanced up only momentarily from what was clearly becoming something useful and not a pile of yarn.
"All I know is I haven't received an SOS yet," he smirked. "Can you watch dinner for a sec?"
"She's watching me!" Jules reminded with a huff.
"She can hear you yell 'crap' from the kitchen," Jess responded and disappeared into the bedroom.
XXXX
"Greetings from the Big Apple."
"You really need to stop beating that old horse. It's tired."
"But it's my favorite horse."
Rory sighed and put her book down. "Did you call for a purpose?"
"Just wanted to see how you were liking it down in the boondocks."
"Have you ever even been to North Carolina?"
"Once—Erin wanted to go to the beach. We didn't stay long. She got sunburned and the kids wanted to bury me in the sand. There is only so much one man can take."
"We don't live on the beach."
"How descriptive of you."
"The house is fine; I've got a bunch of things unpacked. Tristan is still at work. He says he'll have to work a lot of late nights at first, to get everything in order. Jake is at some try out. So I made some mac and cheese and I'm almost done with my book."
"What are you reading?"
"The Bell Jar."
"Rory. Call Tristan."
"I'm fine."
"He'd come home. Even if he had to leave once you fell asleep to make you feel better."
"It's not even dark yet. They'll be home soon."
"You want me to come down and visit?"
"Jess, I don't need you to baby-sit me."
"How about Lorelai? I'm sure she could take some time off to hang out with you until things settle in."
"Mom's busy at the Inn, and Luke is driving her crazy about renewing their vows or something weird like that; not to mention the fact that she's about to be really busy planning Will's wedding."
"You'll get to come home for that; is it soon?"
"They haven't set a date yet. I was thinking of coming up before that, though, just to visit."
"Stop by the city and I'll buy you a slice."
"From Guido's?"
"Where else?" he deadpanned.
Rory smiled. "Thanks, Jess."
"Anytime."
"So, what's going on there? I want every last detail, no matter how mundane. I spent the afternoon arranging bath towels in the linen closet."
Jess chuckled. "Well, Ambrose is brooding about the fact that he's in New York and the girl of his dreams is in Connecticut."
"Like father like son," she teased.
"Once upon a time," he conceded. "Jules is learning to knit."
"You're kidding."
"Well, I should say she's playing with yarn and yelling 'crap' a lot."
Rory giggled. "What brought on the sudden domesticity?"
"She wants to make baby booties," he gruffed.
"Aww—sweet. So, the kids are taking the news well?"
"Yeah. Now we just have to tell everyone else."
"Well, Luke knows, and I know."
"And her sister knows, and Erin. That just leaves our parents and the extended family."
"Doesn't sound so bad."
"Says the woman that doesn't have to put up with my mother calling here every five minutes, asking if we've considered under-water, silent birthing experiences or natural herbs instead of epidurals."
"Natural herbs?"
"That's Mom's kid-friendly code for pot," he laughed.
"That's… the most horrifying thing I've ever heard."
"Yeah, makes Lorelai seem docile, huh?"
"It really does."
There was a comfortable silence on the line, but both felt the distance that loomed between them.
"You sure you don't want me to come visit? We could drive around and at least scope out the good take-out restaurants. See how many 'new to the neighborhood' freebies we can scam?"
"You've got your hands full," she bit her lip.
"But I owe you. I would have blown my brains out at some point in the last year if not for you and Tristan."
"I was just doing my job," she assured him. "Your brains are too good to be wasted."
"So let me do mine. Gwen won't mind. Leaving her alone with my kids is just good training."
"It's not so bad. I'm just not used to the whole 'no kids, no work, everyone is off doing something and I'm not' thing."
"You have worked hard for a long time. Taking a break doesn't mean you can't go back or start something new."
"I know."
"And I will print anything you decide to write."
"You don't hide your soft side as well as you think you do."
"I'm mellowing in my old age."
"Well, it works for you. Gwen's very lucky."
"Ror?" came the voice that made her awash in relief.
"'s that Tristan?"
"Yeah," she bit her lip. "I'll call you to let you know when I'm coming home."
"I can clear my schedule at a moment's notice," he reminded.
"And I'll have everyone down, when we're settled, to see the house and all that."
"Hey," Tristan appeared in the doorway as she remained on the line with Jess. 'Lorelai?' he mouthed.
"Tristan says hi," she said as she mouthed, 'Jess.'
He nodded and moved to hang his suit jacket up on the back of her vanity chair.
"Tell him I have no problem taking him out if it's the only way to get you to move back to the city."
Rory giggled. "I'll pass that on," she promised as they hung up. "You're home," she sat up on her knees and turned to face her half-dressed husband.
"You sound surprised to see me so soon."
"Well, you had me thinking you'd be home about a half hour before you had to leave again," she pouted.
"Like I'd pass up the opportunity to sleep next to the most beautiful woman on the eastern seaboard," he looked her over as only he could. Being married to him for the last twenty or so years didn't alter his ability to make her feel like the sole object of his desire and blush under his scrutiny.
"Only the eastern seaboard?"
"Well, there are a few states I've never gotten around to," he scratched his chin. "What do you think the women of North Dakota look like?"
"You saw Fargo," she glared.
"Ri-iii-ght," he moved to hug her. "So, you bored out of your mind yet?"
"Let's just say our house is very well organized," she sighed.
"When's Jake due back?"
"I don't know. After try-outs?" she guessed.
"So, how about dinner out? On me."
She ran a hand through his hair, slightly ruffling it. "Shouldn't I have dinner waiting on you after a long hard day of work? I've never done the whole housewife thing."
"You mean I would have to eat what you cooked after being put through the ringer at work?" he teased.
"Hey!" she laughed. "I can zap stuff."
"Well, if we go to a restaurant, I bet we can have something more substantial than Hot Pockets and tater tots."
"Well, I have all this time now—I could take cooking classes."
"You could," he frowned.
"Or learn a new language," she sounded excited.
"Okay," he nodded.
"I could take a dance class."
"You'd be endangering others," he pointed out.
She shook her head. "I can dance with you."
"Because I'm a strong male lead. You wouldn't be able to dance with just anyone—you need someone to steer your limbs before they knock things over."
"I'm just saying I should do something useful with my time."
He held her against him tighter. "It's not forever. And if you're really unhappy here," he began.
"I was thinking—maybe Mom could come down, help me redecorate, be someone to get around town with. It might help me to get the feel of the area sooner."
"Anything you want."
"You'd really be okay with two Lorelais under one roof, eating Funyons, having a Coppola marathon, and ordering from every single takeout place in the county?"
"At least you'll be well-fed and entertained. I've found if the Lorelais are happy, then I'm at peace," he patted her behind. "Now go change and let's go."
XXXX
Ella kept looking at her roommate, who had been rather silent through dinner and the evening of studying. They'd had dinner alone together, as the boys all had things to get done—which was odd enough. But Rosa's refusal to discuss much other than her Ethics class just made her wonder if she weren't taking the whole Ambrose thing too hard. When a knock came at their door, she stood up to answer it, but stopped to stand in front of her friend.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"About what?" Rosa asked.
"Whatever it is. I'm a great listener. Even if it's about Ambrose," she hinted.
Rosa blinked in surprise. "I'd… actually forgotten about that."
"Then what's going on?"
"Get the door," she evaded.
"Fine, but don't think whoever it might be will dissuade me."
"We'll see," Rosa smiled.
Ella narrowed her eyes, but moved to the door. When she opened it, she found no person, but a basket wrapped in cellophane with a card attached bearing her name.
"What's that?"
"I don't know," she said, putting it on their coffee table and unwrapping it slowly. "Coffee," she began as she pulled out the items one by one. "A book of Russian poetry," she smiled softly. "Reinforcements," she held up the circular school supplies, "and a Yale keychain."
"That's the weirdest assortment of items I've ever heard of," Rosa knelt down to peer at the card. "Who is it from?"
Ella giggled, unable to catch her breath. Rosa looked to see what was so funny. "Secret admirer?"
"This is a joke, right? Grey's idea?"
Rosa shook her head. "Grey?"
"I gave him a copy of Frost's The Road Less Traveled. This has to be a thank you, or a joke, or something, right?"
Rosa narrowed her eyes in realization. "He's been gone all afternoon. He wouldn't have had time."
"Pax? Maybe to make up for this weekend? He knows I love coffee and school supplies," she guessed.
"Um, he was pretty indisposed as well."
Ella frowned at the vague response. "That leaves Jasper."
"Jasper wouldn't pull something like this. He's very straightforward—it's not a secret that he's after you."
Ella nodded. "True. So a new, mystery boy."
"The keychain is a bit of a head scratcher."
"It's Dan, wearing his little Yale flag. It's cute," she held up the miniature-sized dog.
"I want a secret admirer," Rosa pouted.
"You can share mine if you tell me what it is you are hiding from me."
"It's nothing—you'll find out sooner than later. I swear."
"Fine. Now, shall I make coffee? It's flavored," she read the packet. "It's supposed to be infused with extracts to make our cares float away as if on a cloud."
"Better make mine a double," Rosa nodded, continuing to leaf through the paper confetti of the basket, as if to make sure no other clues were hidden just beneath the surface.
