Logan walked back downstairs towards his father's study. The entire place was eerie in it's quietness, missing his father's voice on the phone, that normally echoed beyond his study, him being often unable to contain his volume. Somehow it was a relief, not having to deal with his opinions or schemes this time. Yet, it was like a missing piece of the place. Unlike the Huntzberger mansion in the States, this place was decorated according to the building's period, the Georgian era Roman columns and sculptures setting the scene for dark wood against lighter, patterned, backgrounds. The study looked tidy, his laptop was still packed in his suitcase and other than a few documents placed on the table, just a few regular contracts between his partners, all signed, nothing much seemed out of place.
"Has anyone cleaned this place since...?" Logan asked the maid, who was just passing by along the hallway.
"I just took the empty whisky glass away, everything else is as it was," she replied hesitantly from the doorway.
"No pill bottles?" he asked, surely there must've been something.
"Not that I know of. The officers were in here before me, maybe they found something," she added.
"Right. Thank you," he replied.
There was no sign of anything pinpointing what had led up to the incident. Mitchum hadn't been in the middle of things, as one might expect when a person overdoses by accident or unknowing, but nothing seemed too deliberate either, there was no note, the police would've certainly told them if they'd found anything, and things just seemed too casual for that type of actions. But then again what did he know about suicides or his father even. He was no detective. His father's radio silence for nearly three months certainly raised some questions. Was he just offended? Or was there more to it? Could he have contributed to the events leading up to this? He brushed the last thought aside, he couldn't let the situation affect him like that. All he had wanted to do was live his life the way he chose, after years of unhappiness that he had given his father, by abiding by his wishes, perhaps even if he hadn't registered it at the time, after years waisted, it was hardly as selfish as his father had made it seem.
He walked to the guest room where his belongings waited. Opening up his laptop he went through his inbox, forwarding or replying to everything that needed his immediate attention. An hour later he picked up his phone and called Honor to check in, telling her he would be there within the next hour. Before leaving he called his father's assistant, letting her know the situation, followed by a call to both Mitchum's and his UK lawyers and the HPG HR manager. He needed to know whether he'd be needed in the office during the next few days.
Without detecting the exact moment, sometime during those calls, anger rose in him. Mitchum had gotten his way, even if just temporarily. Rory was in the US and he was in London, trying to steer a ship whose captain had just deserted it. And legally he had no choice in the matter. He was automatically in charge according to his father's wishes. It didn't particularly even matter whether it had been drug abuse, suicide or an accident - it had been a careless and selfish act by him. At least that was the way Logan saw it.
"How is he?" Logan asked Honor as he returned to the ICU.
"Not good, he had a minor heart attack," Honor said, getting a lump in her throat. She'd always been the one who got along better with their parents.
"Come here," he said, hugging his sister.
"I called HPG and the lawyers, I'm going over there tomorrow to see what the situation is," he said after a few minutes, when Honor had calmed down.
"Logan you know I could do that as well," she offered, knowing where his brother stood with the HPG.
"Apparently right now, until he is like this, you can't. Legally I have to," he said with a sigh.
"Oh," she replied.
"We're all in limbo until..," he began, stopping. He didn't want to finish that sentence, and Honor didn't want to hear it. It was either death or recovery. Either outcomes could take a while. And until he officially inherited the business, he couldn't just pass on his responsibilities.
He hugged Honor once more.
"You go to the house, get some sleep. Maybe call mom's doctors in the morning, maybe they have some support alternatives to the in-home drug-store she's abusing, " Logan suggested bluntly, taking his seat next to his father, reluctantly. He didn't want to be there, he was too angry to sleep, but he knew he couldn't just leave.
"And we're filming," the cameraman said to Rory.
"Hi! My name is Lorelai Huntzberger-Gilmore and today I am going to tell you a my book called Gilmore Girls. It is a story about growing up, a bond between mother and daughter, and about navigating the complex relationships on the borderline of high society/.../," Rory introduced smilingly. It was their third and final take. She held out a dummy book as she spoke. The cover design belonged to her book, but inside there was just a book, as hers was still being edited. She'd sent over her final chapters a couple of days earlier. She felt good about that, however, it didn't feel quite as done because Logan hadn't had a chance to read the whole thing first, like she would have prefered. He'd always been her most trusted and valued critic. He'd been stuck in London for over a week now, taking over his father's tasks. He'd told her how he felt - stuck, forced into doing what he had hoped to avoid, the actual greef of having in a way lost his father, who still laid in the ICU, had turned into fury. Logan wondered whether his father would have actually gone that far to implicit this on himself just in order to drag him out there. Rory doubted that was the case, but then again she had little experience on how far Mitchum would actually go.
Rory went along with the motions at home, she went to dr. Graham for her regular checkup alone - thankfully things were still looking good. At least that was one thing neither Logan or she had to worry about in the midst of everything. The nursery was still half-unpacked. She was in no condition to assemble the drawer or the recliner, nor that she knew how. Surely Luke would've helped but she did want to ask. And without the drawer there really was no place to put the other necessities she'd already bought. Each time she passed the room, a shot of panic came over her - how in the world would she ever be ready if Logan wasn't there? How could she do this without him near? She had no doubt that if it came to it, Logan would just be a 7 hour flight away, but that still seemed awfully far.
It was almost noon on a Saturday when Rory was just about to order some lunch, and along with that something for dinner as well, having spent the morning on Morgan & Pence's social media posts, when the doorbell rang. She wasn't expecting anyone.
A wide grin appeared on her face as she saw Finn.
"Someone called me saying there's a lady here who is in need of my assistance," he announced gallantly.
Rory frowned at the 'lady' and Finn smiled apologetically.
"And might that someone have been Logan?" she inquired smilingly, knowing too well it had been. That's what Logan's smug comment on the nursery's condition - I'll handle it - had meant a few days earlier.
"Are you hungry? I was just about to order some food," she asked politely.
"I just had breakfast an hour ago, but perhaps once I'm done," he replied, throwing his jacket to the hallway bench.
"So how have you been?" he asked, considerately.
"Oh, alright I guess. Work's keeping me busy, though now the book is out of my hands and I'm just writing some teasers for it, your stuff is easy - just finished the posts about San Diego and Vancouver," she noted.
"Baby's doing alright?" he inquired. It was obvious Rory had been missing Logan.
"Oh yea, other than all the normal complaints we're both doing dandy," she replied sarcastically. It was a little frustrating to go to the doctor only to be told that all the aces and inconveniences she was experiencing were perfectly normal. She couldn't wait for her due date, though not the actual delivery. That still terrified her. But with Logan far away, there were contradictory feelings. She certainly didn't want to give birth before he was back. Surely the couple of months still left, were plenty of time for Logan to return for good?
"So how about we go see what can be done about the nursery, I promised to send Logan a picture later," he suggested.
"Right this way, Finn," she said cheerily, heading upstairs. "And thank you," she said, hugging him with a kiss on his cheek.
Her nervousness decreased significantly as she finally sat down in her newly assembled recliner, keeping Finn company while assembling the changing table and a few other smaller furniture items.
"Finn, we'd love your input on possible names, we're still struggling and now it's sort of in the back burner with everything that's going on," she said, adding , "and I think Finnic is just too special for anyone to share with you," trying to use the compliment to steer the conversation to a more constructive direction.
"You know both of my sisters named their kids after what I suggested, so are you sure you want me to? Naming a kid is pretty private, and well I am not exactly a relative here," he added, unusually considerately.
"I do. You are a great friend, Finn, to both of us, why wouldn't we? We've limited it down to the middle name Richard, but that's about it. The main problem is that most of the names we like are too long or too complex or don't go well with the last names," she explained.
"Alright then," he said, adding after a brief pause, "how about Tristian?"
Rory burst into laughter.
"What's so funny?" he asked, dropping the screwdriver.
"I used to have a crush at Chilton who was named Tristian. He used to call me Mary. I hated that," she laughed.
"Mary? I kind of like that," Finn commented, teasingly.
"Oh, don't you start. Forget I said anything," she chuckled.
"Alright, then maybe Ian?" he suggested.
"Hmm.., that's not bad, I'll have to run it by Logan," she said, texting the name to Logan. They'd grown accustomed to shooting names back and forth without any explanations, both knowing what a text like that meant.
"Or Eli?" he added.
"I think that might remind Logan too much of Elias, and we already had a long talk about that. He almost wanted to take his middle name out," she added.
"Right," he said, lifting the changing table upright and beginning to insert the drawers.
"That looks pretty good," Rory commented.
"Where do you want everything. I might just as well do the arranging while I am at it," Finn offered.
"I think the bed should go in the middle of this wall, shorter end against the wall. The changing table to that corner and the recliner can stay where it is now. The small stuff I can add later," she said, already beginning to place the bedding into the drawers.
Five minutes later the room was beginning to look like a real room.
"Hey little guy, your room is ready," she whispered to her bump, happily
"You already look and sound like a mother, you know," Finn commented.
Rory smiled in return. She was still terrified of the responsibility, but strangely enough, she couldn't wait to be a mother. She'd never really been that person, but apparently those were the good hormones at work.
"Now you pose, I'll take a picture for Logan," he instructed, pulling out his phone.
"I don't really feel very photogenic like this," she objected.
"Come one, Logan misses you, you look bloody gorgeous, please get in the picture," Finn argued, adding his puppy-dog eyes.
"Fine," she muttered, taking a place in profile against the crib. At least from the side, the bump was prominently distracting.
"All done," Finn said and shiftly sent the picture over to Logan.
"Thanks," she replied. "For everything," she added.
She'd needed the company more than she had realized. While Lorelai had been over a couple of times briefly and she'd kept herself busy with work fairly well, she missed the day to day real live communication. No amount of Facetime, texting and calls could substitute Logan being there with her.