Parents of three kids under three didn't really do New Year's Eves. Fine, they'd tried, but as Rory had started yawning around 10.30 PM, it had seemed like a hopeless cause. There'd be other Eve's and it was not like they had any plans to go out or anything, having even given the nannies the night off. All they had planned was watching TV, just the two of them and opening a bottle of Veuve Clicquot La Grande Dame Blanc after the kids were put to bed. The bottle had remained unopened in their wine fridge and Rory and Logan had been woken by Finny climbing into their bed at 6 AM. It was one of the better mornings, Finn falling asleep between them within moments, enabling the two to not actually get up as a result.

"I can feel your eyes on me," Rory mumbled quietly to Logan, with her eyes still shut. She knew it was pointless to really fall back to sleep, but she'd lingered, teasing herself with a near-dreamlike state, almost as if pretenting to be asleep was the next best thing to real sleep.

Rory's hand was stretched out over Finny, who was sleeping on his side, facing Rory, one of his legs thrown casually over Rory's waist, hands bend under his chin. Logan stroked Rory's palm with his fingers, making her smile gently through her haze.

"Dad called yesterday," Logan shared.

"Oh yeah?" Rory replied, playing oblivious for a moment, her eyes remaining shut as if it was easier to pretend not to know anything about it, when not looking at him. She hated lying to him, but she was unsure how mad he'd be if he knew it had been her that had spoken to Mitchum and suggested this.

"He wants to go help Owen out in London. Unless Owen strongly objects it might be the last time I need to go to London for a while after this time," Logan explained, thinking of his impending departure in a few days time.

"That's good, right?" Rory peeked at him.

Somehow he didn't sound all too happy about this,

"I don't know," Logan sighed, honestly. "I'm a little worried if it isn't going back rather than going further," he admitted, and this really was something Rory had already thought about. There was always the risk that being so far would mean that Mitchum's ways would prevail.

"There's Bobby there too, isn't there? And I mean the London and New York connection isn't as impossibly separated these days as it was ten years ago, right? Video conferencing and what not…," Rory tried to appear positive, propping herself up to her elbow.

"I just wonder if he's up to something," Logan pondered, sceptically. The call just hadn't seemed like him.

Rory just couldn't do it - she couldn't just pretend ignorance on this. She was sad to see the lack of trust between Logan and Mitchum still, they'd come such a long way, but not long enough.

"Okay," Rory began, with a deep exhale. "I talked to him, okay? I'm sorry for doing it like this, but I just… I'm worried about you. You seem so zoned out sometimes, it's scary. I can see there's something going on. I don't want you alone across the ocean... dealing with whatever you are dealing with. I want you here. It's selfish I know, and I absolutely hate having colluded with him like this. I feel almost dirty because of it," Rory blabbered in a whisper. "I just didn't think you'd ask him yourself...," she added.

"Why didn't you just talk to me?" Logan asked agitatedly but keeping his voice down. The conversation would've been at least in part angry-sounding or annoyed, confused, but with Finny sleeping between them both were making an effort to keep it hushed. In a way it was almost comical.

"You keep saying things are fine," Rory huffed with a shrug.

"Things are fine," Logan insisted.

"Fine and fine are different things apparently," Rory rolled her eyes. He could say what he wanted, she knew him better than that.

"I'm tired of being away - but that doesn't mean I want to give up control of things to my dad. I promised Owen I'd help him and now he's going to get a surprise that he can't trust me as I'm sending dad. He never wanted to deal with dad in the first place, why should he want to do it now!?" Logan snitted, his voice raising enough for Finny to stretch himself out, raising his arms over his head and turning sideways, now to face Logan.

"But can you see the positive in this, right? What I meant to achieve by this? Your dad clearly wants to get to know him too, even if he'll never admit to it, he's sick on sitting on his ass and he did teach you too - he's not completely useless in this. You'll just go less often, and he'll keep an eye on things - I'm sure you'll agree he's able to do that," Rory insisted.

"Yes, but you went behind my back, Rory!" Logan argued, sounding upset despite the low tone. "We're supposed to be the team in this!" he added, gesturing with one of his hands angrily.

"You're worried about what Mitchum thinks?" Rory inquired.

"Yes, I am - he'll get the idea into his head he can just manipulate me, and worse - through you," Logan continued.

"I'm not some marionette, I went to him," Rory argued. "You don't deserve to miss any more..," she said.

Finny then almost turned to his stomach, his right hand stretching out around Logan's neck while his face got buried into Logan's right shoulder.

"...of this," Rory added, gesturing at Finny.

Logan really couldn't argue, feeling the little boy's breath on his bare skin.

But besides this, Logan almost wanted to say that Rory should never do something like that again, almost like a warning, but he really wasn't sure what he was warning her against. It just would feel like such a big change of a dynamic in their relationship - it already did - her going behind his back to Mitchum and him warning her against meddling like that. Also him getting angry at her like this - it had rarely happened to them in the past, but this seemed more serious somehow - it wasn't the practice rounds of boyfriend and girlfriend, this was real life - marriage, children and the fate of the company.

Either way Logan hated to admit it - but they were off character. He was off character and she'd seen it before he did.

Celeste and Jess had actually had a New Years Eve thanks to Evie's sleep schedule being completely off schedule the day before, hence they'd found themselves sitting in their backyard on the deck at midnight, the girl still wide awake, hoping to tire him. But as Stars Hollow was always rather keen on celebrating any and every holiday, the firework show had definitely been impressive for Evie, leaving the parents smiling at the sight of her litte face in utter amazement as they were blasted. They'd had a glass or two of wine, nothing much, and then went to bed when Evie seemed tired enough.

The positive of this was that Evie really slept in the morning, allowing the parents also to get some much-needed rest. However, it was perhaps around 8.30, when Jess woke to the sound of Celeste rushing from bed towards the bathroom, the door making a much more sudden sound than she usually would've caused, followed by the sound of retching. The one and a half glasses of wine she'd had really didn't seem like enough to make her throw up like this. Jess hadn't witnessed her throwing up like this since… since she was pregnant. But as this wasn't possible, Jess simply figured it was something she'd eaten, Celeste having been to Al's Pancake World with Sarah the day before for lunch. He just hoped it wasn't some bug, which Evie could catch, remembering painfully how he'd been all alone with Evie while she'd had a stomach bug in spring while Celeste had been at the mental health resort. It had been one of the hardest nights of his life, having gotten just a couple of hours of sleep while being worried sick on top of everything.

Nevertheless, he went to check on her, pulling himself out of bed.

"You okay?" he asked, noting her sitting on the chilly bathroom floor, pale in the face.

Celeste shrugged. She felt cold on the floor like that, but didn't quire dare to get up quite yet, unsure if that was the end of it.

Jess handed her her robe, at least she didn't have to be freezing, and pulled the bathroom carpet towards where she was sitting and after she'd shifted to sit on it herself, he took a seat beside her.

Celeste leaned against his shoulder, Jess sensing the cold sweat on her skin.

"It's been a while since we did this…," Jess said, hoping she'd see some irony in this and it'd cheer her up.

"I should probably go see a doctor sometime this week," Celeste began, hesitantly. "I've been feeling so tired all the time, I don't know anymore if it's just mental exhaustion. It's like everything is so hard for me these days," she added. It hadn't been going on for very long, just a week, week and a half, but it was definitely about more than just having a long day at work. It had been about dozing off on the couch on her days off or napping with Evie at least every other day. She'd been having headaches and a couple of hot flashes too. "Though they'll probably just tell me I'm old…," she tried to joke, but seriously in her mind she wouldn't really have been too surprised if they'd categorize her as perimenopausal or something. After all, its early onset was something she'd been warned about a few years ago, when she'd been in a hurry to have a baby with Jess. But admitting that to Jess made her feel unattractive and unfeminine somehow, so she didn't.

"You have had a lot to deal with," Jess assured, stroking her shoulder.

"I guess," she agreed, not wanting to worry him with the details. Besides that, she also knew these symptoms could also speak of a thyroid problem, blood sugar issues or even cancer - her mind having already gotten herself worked up the diagnoses Google provided. She didn't want to worry him. She hated that it was always him taking care of her, whether it was her mental health or when she'd been recovering from having Evie - it was always about her, it felt so unfair somehow.

"You want me to come with you?" Jess asked, seeing her look a little scared.

That was certainly something she couldn't lie about - she was scared. "Please," she said simply.

Emily had spent the morning at Musée Marmottan Monet, reminding herself of the beautiful impressionist collection she'd missed seeing. She'd been there numerous times before, and very little about the collection had changed, still, at her age - a lot of things came down to reliving memories.

"How was it?" Emily's long time friend Isabel asked, as Emily returned from the museum, dressed much more casually than she'd ever been in this city - wearing a wine red light down jacket, chinos and a small crossbody bag.

"Oh, just as exquisite as I remembered," she replied, and took off her jacket, handing it over to the maid.

"Lunch will be ready in 20 minutes, Isabel," the maid said. The relationship between the maid and Isable was rather familiar in this household, much more about anticipating needs than bossing the maid around which showed even in the fact that she didn't wear a uniform. The maid had become Isable's main company and friend throughout the years. It was a little similar to what Emily had with Berta, though she still couldn't really talk to her due to the language barrier.

"Thank you, Greta," Isabel said.

"I made a few calls while you were out," Isabel said to Emily after the maid had left, as they trailed towards the drawing room that was just adjacent to the dining room that the maid was already setting for lunch. They took a seat on opposite-standing beige velvet couches. The style of this place was more classical American, than one might expect, Isabel actually havign a love for classical recliners and sometimes dining in front of the television.

"Wonderful, thank you," she replied, having spoken to her already about her goal to help a friend, having not mentioned Odette by name. She'd essentially explained that she was looking to, putting it formally, to get an audience with Sabine Abuertin. But she knew that at her age and especially considering all the news that had been surrounding her family for the past few months, it wasn't really something she'd easily get. The woman was probably bombarded with journalists and paparazzi, and meeting with people she didn't know was definitely not her priority, and Emily really didn't blame her.

What Celeste nor Rory really had grasped was that Emily did have a very different viewpoint of things - she knew what it meant to lose a daughter like that, the daughter having just left, and while Celeste had done it under much different circumstances and age than Lorelai had - she did understand why one might feel betrayed after something like that.

"Nobody is promising a meeting just yet, but we might get you at least an introduction. I'm sure she barely remembers me, but maybe with her assistant there, she might be reminded," Isabel explained. "They are opening a new auction house this week in Gaillon. Something about the old one by Christie's not being spacious enough," she added.

"Excellent," she replied, though feeling like this process was perhaps taking longer than she had hoped. She just needed an half an hour with the woman, believing she was a pretty good judge of character, having already thought of several ways this could go and what she would say at each. She was not scared easily by someone with money, especially not now when she had less to lose.

"I've been meaning to ask you, Emily…," Isabel hesitated.

"Ask away," she replied pleasantly.

"Why exactly do you want to talk to her? The woman has truly had a rough couple of years. I'm just not so sure she'd be up for casual socializing," she admitted, sceptically.

"I'm trying to help a friend, who is unable to travel at the time," Emily replied. The sentence at least had some truth to it. "I have no intention of upsetting her, if that's what you're concerned about," she added. She really didn't want that - she wanted to understand, or perhaps convey some perspective that this wasn't the end of her relationship with her daughter if she did things right. She frankly couldn't have imagined any mother choosing business or the public opinion over knowing her grandchild or maintaining some form of a relationship with her daughter despite everything. Especially after everything she'd been through. After all - as one grew older money seemed to matter only less and less, while everything else just couldn't be replaced.

Sherry and G had gone jogging with her that afternoon, everyone having slept late, leaving Remi curing his hangover at home. This was something they used to do, though when G was little, it was rather about her mother jogging or working out at the outdoor gym area and G would climb the huge adventure castle set up for kids at Courneuve park.

There was definitely still tension between the mother and daughter from their brief exchange of words last night, the two barely speaking.

The park itself was sizable, and while mostly flat, it varied greatly in vegetation, park type, providing interesting things to see while not being as crowded as some of the more central Parisian parks. As it was the first of January, there were still a lot of people working out - starting off their New Year's resolutions with a positive start. It was sunny, surprisingly warm too, making G miss the sunglasses she'd left back in New York, having not thought she'd need them.

G didn't ran much these days, only in school, but she was in good shape and could easily keep up with her mother, 34 year older then she was, who worked out regularly.

At some point, as they approached the area of the park that was a lot more secluded, G slowed to a halt. She just needed to understand, unable to pretend to not having heard what she'd heard last night. The entire morning it had been about her mother pretending nothing was wrong.

"You okay?" Sherry asked, it having taken her a few seconds to realize G was no longer running one step behind her.

"No," she replied, somewhat bluntly.

"Is it the shoes?" Sherry asked, a little naively, having given G her new shoes for jogging while herself having worn her slightly scruffy ones.

"No, it's not the shoes," G huffed seriously.

The silence spoke for itself.

"What do you want me to say?" Sherry finally said, seeing that G really hadn't forgotten about last night's topic. She had hoped she would, that perhaps the topic was too gentle or too awkward even. She wasn't good at this. She wasn't good at confrontation, she'd never had a real argument with her daughter even.

"Can you just please explain to me why you are living with him if he's such a creep? And I really don't need descriptions of him being weird… you've just confirmed to me last night what I've had a nasty feeling about for a while is true - he's a perv, and now I just need an explanation so I'd have even a chance of understanding this," she replied, exaggerating a little of the length of time she'd been able to put a finger on what was going on. All these little things that she'd been feeling now and remembered from the past were now definitely painting a picture of a man who was not just physical or had a weird sense of humour - this was harassment at best, borderline abuse at worst.

That wording shook Sherry properly on the inside.

"I'm sorry, Gigi…," Sherry then burst into tears, realizing that her daughter hadn't been oblivious to Remi's actions.

"So that's why you sent me away?" she asked, craving confirmation.

"I just didn't know what else to do - your dad missed you… you were beginning to look more and more like a young woman… and I was scared," Sherry sobbed.

G had never seen her mother cry like that, and frankly she didn't really know how to comfort her. Sure, they often hugged, but somehow seeing her vulnerable like that, was awkward for her. Besides, she was herself fluctuating between compassion and anger at this point. Surely the man was the one who was supposed to get punished, not the kids who was supposed to get shipped away, and that even if she hadn't really had anything against moving. Either way it had been an adjustment - new friends, new school, and dad was challenging to be around too, especially in the beginning.

"But why are you with him then?" G repeated her initial question.

"My resident permit is linked to my workplace, our house is in his name..," she replied practically. "I've been with him for over a decade, G… he's under my skin, I don't know who I am without him anymore… and trust me I know that I sound absolutely horrible for saying that. I know it sounds like I'm choosing him over you… but at this point I know you're safe, I'm not letting you out of my sight if I can help it. He's my means of maintaining my life - my friends and life.. I can't go back to the States," Sherry explained between whimpers. She truly didn't have anything back there, except for G, but she was off to college in a year and a half. There were a lot more that she knew about the man and his less than examplary behavior than she considered appropriate to tell her daughter, but despite keeping her mouth shut about these things, G could read it in her face that she wasn't telling her everything, leaving it up to her imagination.

"Mom, we'll get you a place - here or the States - I'll pay for it," G offered, simplistically, her childishness shining through her otherwise mature nature.

"I'm not taking Christopher's money, G," she frowned.

"He doesn't have to know," G insisted, grasping at straws. This really wasn't something for a child, even if a mature one, to solve.

"Come on G - renting an apartment, the utilities and so on, it's not cheap - he'll notice and I don't want a single dollar from him. We're through, he doesn't owe me anything. And this is not your problem - some day I'll figure it out," Sherry explained, giving some hope.

G was beginning to recall having read somewhere about Stockholm syndrome - how people became so infatuated with their captors. She knew it wasn't exactly the same - but there were definitely some hints of 'pink goggles' her mother seemed to have for the man. He provided for her - giving her a place to live and work, which also provided her with the means to stay in the country.

"Mom, you know there are support groups, numbers to call... for things like this - for you. I'm sure there are those here too," G insisted. She wasn't even thinking about herself anymore, she'd be out of the country in a couple of days, until then simply knowing better than to linger around the same room with Remi.

"I'm fine, we're fine…," she gathered herself, as if for a moment forgetting the real issue. "I'll eventually look for another job," she added.

"No - it's not fine," G huffed, rising to her feet again. "He's manipulating you!" G speculated. Remi having so much control over her life, her wellbeing, as much as she'd read about these things during her psychology classes, was another red flag.

"Gigi, you don't know what you are talking about!" Sherry shook her head.

"Stop treating me like a child!" G screamed, swallowing the lump in her throat, and ran off, feeling unable to get through to her.

"Georgia, wait!" Sherry called after her, but G sprinted - she wouldn't last long but she just wanted to run at that point.

G ran, thinking frantically whether she should call her father, or Rory... or some anonymous helpline. The whole thing was very messed up - there was little that had actually happened, things being very much borderline - an inappropriate lingering, comparison or compliment were not enough evidence to do anything really. She considered herself now knowledgeable enough to stand up for herself and lock her bedroom door for the night, but with things being this screwed up - worrying for her mother on top of everything - she just wanted to get herself and preferably her, out of there. She slowed her pace and pulled up her phone, thinking. She wasn't sure if she should leave or stick around for her mother's sake.

"Gigi!" her mother caught up with her, out of breath. As she heard her voice, she suddenly realized that her mother actually didn't want to leave - not at the moment at least.

"I'm going home early," she said, not thinking things through. She wanted her mother to realize how serious this was, feeling like she needed to make a statement. She didn't want to punish her mother, things were complicated, but if she couldn't get her to leave, she couldn't just put up with the charade for two more days either. It was as she'd said it, she pressed search on the American Airlines website, hoping there'd be some available flights left. Money wasn't the issue, but the availability apparently was.

"I'm sorry," Sherry panted, sounding sincere, but unable to say anything more than that.

On their way back to the house, G quickly texted her friends, hoping she could stay with one of them for the next couple of nights while she looked for cancellations. They'd made it almost back to the house, in silence, when Astrid texted her back that she'd gotten in trouble for the party, someone having called the police after G had left and wasn't allowed to have anyone over.

G knew that her plan C was asking Rory to book her a place somewhere, her age being an issue to book something for herself, but before she involved her, knowing she'd need an explanation, she texted Jephté. It wasn't ideal either, really not wanting to grab at straws like this. But he'd truly seemed like a nice guy, maybe it'd be okay, despite feeling slightly cheap knowing that this could in some way be considered as paying for her accomodations with sex. It wouldn't be quite that, but still it wasn't just about the fun then either, putting herself very much in a similar situation of her mother's even if just for a couple of night.

"Sure, come on over, my roommate is out of town for a few more days anyways," Jephté texted back in a couple of seconds, texting his address.

"Any hope I might get a ride?" she texted back, knowing that taking her suitcase on the bike wasn't ideal.

"At your service," he texted back, adding a chauffeur emoji and a smiley.

Maybe, this wouldn't be so bad - G thought, frankly just wanting to forget about the whole ordeal for a while. It was exhausting and upsetting.