Pips Bailey could not throw a party to save her own life. If a gunman had her grandchildren up against a wall and told her to pick a tasteful wine and fish pairing; those poor children wouldn't live to see the day. However, Emily was a valued member of the DAR and it wouldn't look good if she skipped out on another member's party, even if that member didn't know what a good cocktail tasted like. So Emily put on one of her nicer jackets and suffered through Pip's interpretation of a garden party.

Emily checked her watch. She had spent a polite amount of time mingling, nibbling on dry hors d'oeuvres, and baking in the springtime sun and was ready to call her driver.

"Emily!" Missy Gutman called out to her as she walked through the crowd of tweed and pearls, "How are you?"

Emily accepted a cheek kiss and gave one back. Missy had been apart of the DAR for as long as Emily had been. She still wouldn't call her a friend.

Not after the crystal punch bowl incident of '86.

Never, after the crystal punch bowl incident of '86.

"I'm doing well, Missy, thank-you. A tad bit warm. You?"

"Yes," Missy said, pressing a silk cloth to her neck, "I'm a bit warm myself. Had Pips told me she wasn't putting out the canopies, I would've worn my spring hat. You know the one, don't you dear?"

The one that looked like a flock of birds defecated on a beehive, that Missy had worn to every spring garden party for the last 15 years? Yes, she knew the one.

"That lovely yellow one?" Emily replied.

"Yes! Still as sharp as ever. Let's get into the shade dear before we cook like turkeys." Missy said, leading Emily into Pips kitchen. Missy handed Emily a glass of ice water. "Now Emily. I heard that you were talking to Amato Vincenzo."

Emily rolled her eyes, "Darby's stepson? Hardly. He harassed me at the bar at one of our fundraisers. Talking to. Don't be absurd."

"I had to make sure. Emily, you're a dear friend–"

Hah.

"–And I wouldn't want you to bring someone who doesn't deserve it into your impeccable social circle."

"Besides being an annoying little boy, what makes you think he doesn't deserve to be in my social circle?" Emily asked.

"He's classist," Missy hissed, leaning in close.

Emily blinked. This coming from a woman didn't believe any child not sent to private school couldn't associate with own family?

"Classist?" Emily repeated.

"Yes. You know how my Dicky is running that cute Italian bistro in New York? He's been running it for 5 years and the food is top-notch if I do say so myself."

Instead of rolling her eyes, Emily nodded. Missy had to say the food was top-notch because how else could she justify her son's failing restaurant?

"Amato gave my son's restaurant a horrible review. It was incredibly unprofessional. Talking about the food is one thing, but dragging my husband's hard-earned money through the mud is another. He had a lot of nerve too with that father of his."

"That's all? He gave your son's restaurant a bad review?"

Missy huffed. "No. He used his platform as a critic to turn his back on the lifestyle he was born into to appeal to the bohemians in New York. When being a critic fails he'll be right back where he started, begging for his father's money."

"You don't think that's a tad too much for one bad review?"

"Its the principle of it all, Emily. Amato thinks people like us shouldn't use the money that we rightfully earned to support our families. With all that you've done to help Lorelai, don't you find that insulting?"

"I suppose."

Missy's costume jewelry laden fingers grabbed her wrist. "Promise me you'll be alert around him. I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

"Of course, Missy," Emily replied. "Thank you for thinking of me."

Missy smiled before taking a sip of her water. She grimaced.

"This must be tap. Have I told you about the amazing freshwater springs at my summer home in the Alps?"

–––––––––

Emily arrived to a quiet home and an ostentatious bouquet of flowers on the foyer table.

"Where did these come from?" Emily asked the nearest maid. "I wasn't expecting any deliveries today."

"It was delivered earlier this afternoon, Mrs. Gilmore. It came with this," the maid said and handed Emily a white envelope.

Taking the envelope, Emily scrutinized the bouquet.

"Put this in the dining room. Not on the dining room table, but the oak side table on the left." Emily said.

Alone in her bedroom, Emily put on her reading glasses and sat down at her vanity to open the envelope. There was a letter inside. It read,

'Dear Mrs. Gilmore,

Forgive Darby for giving me your address. She wasn't aware of how much a fool I made of myself at the fundraiser and thought nothing of it. I thought a well-bred woman like you would appreciate something that took more effort than a text or an e-mail. I have a bad habit of putting my foot in my mouth when I talk to beautiful women. It doesn't excuse the way I behaved or spoke to you and I'd like to apologize.

Going forward, when in the presence of elegant, beautiful women like yourself, I will remove myself immediately and relocate to the nearest dumpster where I belong.

Yours truly, and still sorry,

Matt.'

Emily pressed a hand to her cheek and was shocked to find that it was burning hot. She was blushing. Blushing! A woman her age blushing from a letter written by a...boy! A boy young enough to be her son. It was ridiculous and outrageous. Her medications were probably weren't mixing well with the 2nd tier wine Pips had served her. Emily folded up the letter and tried to put it back in the envelope but it wouldn't budge. She put a little more force into it and flinched as the letter tore. Emily took the letter out again and a business card fluttered into her lap. Matt had scratched out the number and written another underneath. In a carefree scrawl next to the number he'd written 'Call me' along with a smiley face Lorelai liked to draw all over her schoolbooks years ago.

Call him? And do what? Talk about her aching hip or her thinning hair? Would he help her count out her morning and evening medication? There was no point in any of this. At the least, Emily could write a thank-you note in return and send it along to Darby with a bottle of wine. Emily wouldn't entertain any silly ideas about her and Matt. She would never disrespect Richard like that.

Richard was everything to her. Sometimes, right when she woke up, she swore she could hear Richard grumbling in the bathroom and her heart almost burst with happiness. But then she'd open eyes and she'd be alone again. Emily unlocked her vanity drawer and placed Matt's letter and card inside. She slid the drawer closed and locked it.

The next morning, Emily felt like taking a drive down to Stars Hollow to see how the flowers were doing at Lorelai's Inn. Knowing how much Lorelai hated for Emily to arrive unannounced, she called ahead. Instead of Lorelai picking up, it was the polite Frenchman who worked at the front desk.

"Firefly Inn, Michel speaking. Lorelai can not come to the phone at the moment, may I take a message?"

"It's Emily Gilmore. I'd like to come down and visit the Inn and take a look at the grounds. Is that possible or is the Inn too busy?"

"For you Mrs. Gilmore, the Inn is never too busy. Here, let me book a table for lunch as well."

"Oh, you don't have to go to the trouble."

"It's no trouble at all. After taking a look at our beautiful new grounds, Chef Sookie's cooking will energize and revitalize you."

"That does sound quite nice. Fine, book me a table."

"Excellent, does early afternoon work for you? 12:30?"

"That's just fine, I'll see you then."

Emily decided to wear her eggshell blue pantsuit and her freshwater pearl earrings. She unlocked her vanity drawer and paused. The letter. She licked her lips before tucking it into her purse. She'd bring it with her so she could write a reply at lunch, as rude as that was, and then pick a bottle of wine on the way home. She'd post them both and be done with it.

At therapy, Esther agreed that she was doing a good job of being kind and polite to Lorelai. Emily felt a bit silly being proud of herself for doing something as simple as keeping her mouth shut but she couldn't help it. Luke was warm and inviting to her once again. James, of course, was always happy to see her. The only one who was still so sour to her was Lorelai, but Emily wasn't surprised. She had raised Lorelai to hold a grudge like no other. Despite her best efforts, Lorelai still behaved as if everything Emily said was an insult. She was doing her best to distance herself from the cruel reality of their relationship that Lorelai had thrown in her face that night on the porch, but it was like Lorelai was fighting tooth and nail to hold on to it. Whenever they were together Lorelai came as close to throwing a tantrum as possible. It was absurd. Emily wasn't going to let Lorelai's natural state of petulance slow her down. Esther's new techniques had worked wonders for her and Rory's relationship. Rory called her every week and when she didn't have the time, Emily received an email. It was fabulous.

As Emily walked up the gravel path to the front of the Firefly Inn, she smiled. She had done a spectacular job of flower color coordination and placement. The marble plant holders looked even better than they did in the photos. It was like a brand new place.

Michel was waiting for her in the lobby. He pressed a chic kiss to her hand. "Mrs. Gilmore, welcome back to the Firefly Inn."

"Thank you, the grounds look wonderful."

"But not as wonderful as you. Please, let me take you to your table in the dining room." Michel replied, holding out his elbow to her.

Emily took his elbow and let him lead her to the dining room, where they were accosted by a frazzled young woman in a red blazer.

"Mr. Gerard, the couple in 302 broke the bed and now they want a refund, what do I do?"

Michel rolled his eyes. "The same couple who was told not to jump on the bed, broke their bed? What a surprise. Mrs. Gilmore, I'm sorry but I have to run, please let the hostess seat you."

Michel ran off and hostess took Emily to a table right near the windows. Emily had just finished giving the waiter her order when Lorelai strutted through the dining room and into the kitchen. The kitchen doors swung for a moment before Lorelai walked right back out and stared at her.

"Mom?" Lorelai said.

"Hello, Lorelai. Why don't sit down so we don't yell across the room and disturb your guests."

Lorelai pursed her lips but did as she was told. She sat across from Emily and sighed, "We can be pretty disturbing."

Emily used all of her willpower not to roll her eyes.

"Mom, you know how I feel about you showing up without giving me a heads up."

"I did give you a 'heads-up'. I called your phone and Michel answered and offered to book a table for lunch. He's your employee, I assumed he told you."

"Must've slipped his mind."

"Do you want me to leave?" Emily asked, putting her hand on her purse. She would leave. It was far easier to avoid Lorelai when she worked herself up into one of her moods. It was far more beneficial for everyone.

"No, you can stay, it's fine," Lorelai replied, looking as if she had eaten a particularly sour lemon.

"Thank-you. The lawn looks wonderful. It was nice of you to let me buy some new flowers to brighten up the place."

"Letting you what? I didn't let you do anything. You went behind my back, again, and did whatever you wanted."

"You told me at dinner that I could buy flowers for the Inn."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes you did, Lorelai. I asked you if you planned to purchase any spring flowers for the Inn and you said you hadn't thought about it. When I said that I wouldn't mind picking out some flowers for you, you said 'knock yourself out'. Is that not permission?"

"Bwah? What? I don't even remember that conversation. Why did you even take me seriously?"

"I wasn't informed of the schedule of when not to take you seriously."

Lorelai then did one of her favorite things. She rolled her eyes.

"Look Lorelai, if you want me to leave, I'll leave. I'll call my waiter back over and cancel my meal and get out of your hair."

"I already said you don't have to do that."

"It's obvious that my being here is upsetting you, so I'll just go back home. Maybe I'll call Luke and tell him I'm visiting the diner to see how things are."

"Things are fine there just like things are fine here, you don't have–"

"Emily! That is you!"

Emily blinked and turned around. There in the entrance of Lorelai's rinky little bed and breakfast, was Matt.