Logan had met up with Owen on the corner of Brook Street and New Bond Street, at the crossroads of the shortest route between Logan's hotel, which he was growing very sick of, and Owen's apartment on Cork Street. They didn't really have anything specific planned - Logan just craved to get out of his head and out of his hotel room, his guilty conscience for not replying to Rory's text that morning still paining him. And Owen was simply left to his own devices as Charlotte had insisted yet again to head over to the flea market at Vinegar Yard which really wasn't as much fun for Owen the third time around.
The weather was surprisingly sunny for mid-January, so they weren't really in any hurry to find a place for a pint or coffee, so for a while they simply walked around the city, Logan telling Owen stories of the time he used to live there. They saw each-other at work on a daily basis, but Logan still kept up with his duties with the board at the same time, hence they weren't really joint by the hip at the office either. For that reason it was on occasion quite convenient to live close by, enabling them to go out together on short notice if they felt like it.
"So, how does this whole thing feel by now?" Logan inquired, wanting to pick Owen's brain by finding out whether the work was beginning to feel more natural to him or did he still feel like trying to impersonate someone else. While Owen was a quick study, he was in the beginning not used to being in the position of power in the company - at school one was in charge of the classroom, but not really the curriculum or the school, some students acting out on bigger issues than he could control. Here he was learning to really captain the boat.
"It's okay, I mean it's a lot easier now that I know what to anticipate from the day. But I guess I'm not so attached to it that I'd want to do this forever... A great experience though," Owen replied, somewhat diplomatically.
"Maybe it's the age thing, that you've already seen the working world a little, that allows you that, and I think it's healthy frankly," Logan pondered, knowing that this was temporary - he wasn't taking over Bobby's job completely. "I was just immersed into this with very little options. I mean I tried finding work on my own but… no matter what I did I was always connected to the company. Even if I tried to work on something else, I would still read the news and feel was connected to it," Logan explained. He wasn't going to explain in detail how his name had also worked to his disadvantage, hoping Owen would never have to deal with that part.
"What was it that you tried to do? I don't think you've told me about it?" Owen inquired. There were still some patches in what they knew about each other, and while working together was an excellent way to get to know the other's personality, there were still little pieces of the puzzle they were both only discovering.
"It was an emerging internet company at the time - Buzzfeed. Maybe you know it?" Logan replied, humbly and with a weak smirk, as if it was no big deal.
Of course Owen knew it, and he was definitely impressed.
"So you went at it without the…," Owen said, clearing his voice, not quite feeling comfortable speaking about the family money.
Owen was, no doubt, living on it right now as well, but he didn't have it - he was living on the company's expenses. He was written into Mitchum's will, but that was about it. What Owen didn't know was that Logan had always wondered about that - both about him not wanting to accept, as he'd put it - charity - from him, and Mitchum not insisting on it at this time. Logan was suspecting that this was Mitchum's way of seeing how Charlotte would handle things first, going strictly by statistics of roughly 40 - 50 % of first marriages failing. At that thought Logan did consider what Mitchum thought of his prenupless marriage, though on his defence the history he had with Rory exceeded that of Owen and Charlotte's by a decade, even if at times it had been a little fuzzy.
Logan tittered, finding it amusing how Owen hesitated speaking about what was essentially their money.
"Yes, well - mostly. I had some of my trust fund left, but I was mostly living from payday to payday," Logan explained. What had been left of the trustfund had been just enough to help him get settled in his very humble Palo Alto appartment and enable him to travel to the East coast a couple of times a year to see his sister. It had been more than once Honor had helped him out financially during those days.
"Why did you leave?" Owen asked, as they walked now through St Giles.
"I didn't feel like I was given any options within this company. Shoved through one door since I was little. I tried investing my trust fund before that as well, it didn't end well. I had the knowledge to do these things - business - but I didn't really have the experience and I guess I just felt like whatever I ended up doing I needed to try to really do it on my own, so I wouldn't feel I had dad's cushion to fall on. To him, failing was about bad press at the time, like he wasn't keeping me in check," Logan explained. "This is a great place by the way," Logan said as a side note, gesturing at the Ivy. "Rory loves this place," he added, feeling an unexpected gut punch to remind him of how he'd left things unanswered.
Owen made a mental note, always appreciating Logan's suggestions, as they were always exceptional, aiming to take Charlotte there one night. While the city was full of amazing places to eat, it wasn't always the easiest. He still walked around like he was counting money, unsure where to step in and whether his attire was sufficient - often settling for some simple pub meals which weren't always that great out of humbleness. He still lacked the confidence in having money and expecting others to just deal.
"So do you think he's doing this - coming to train me or mentor me… or however he said it, to make sure I don't embarrass him or…?" Owen pondered as they continued down Monmouth Street.
"Honestly - I don't think that's it. He knows the advisors and Bobby are capable of ensuring that you don't have to make any of the really big decisions blindly," Logan said, not bothering to add himself in that list. He was kind of an advisory at this, wasn't he?
"So why is he doing this? Just so you could be in New York?" Owen asked.
"He hasn't told me any real reason. I know I made it sound like it was sort of my idea or perhaps even his, but it was Rory's actually. She talked to him and even to her surprise he sounded very willing to do it, so that sort of makes me think that maybe he's hoping to correct some regrets, maybe?" Logan shrugged, his hands tucked into his coat pockets.
Owen didn't reply, considering that scenario. While he was a little curious to learn more about Mitchum, from everything he'd read and heard, he was also a little anxious, Logan's stories about him portraying him as controlling and judgemental, not assuring Owen with the greatest amount of trust at this point.
"Seriously - if it doesn't work for you, just let me know, okay?" Logan added. He wasn't sure how he was going to do this alternatively, but he felt he needed to say it. Mitchum was a complicated man, the last thing he wanted to do was ruin Owen's enthusiasm.
"Rory doesn't really seem like the kind to…," Owen added, wondering about what Logan had said. He couldn't really imagine a normal scenario in which Rory would go on to speaking to Mitchum on Logan's behalf like that. As far as he knew Rory didn't really get along with Mitchum, always speaking like she was just tolerating him.
"Yeah, she isn't. I guess she was just concerned," Logan replied with a deep breath, feeling like Owen was expecting a more in depth explanation. "I've been dealing with some stuff, and Rory thinks I need a break - which she's probably right about," Logan admitted a little self consciously.
"You're very lucky to have someone like her, you know," Owen commented, meaning it probably a little more deeply than he gave off. There were traits in Rory that he admired and secretly hoped Charlotte would have - that certain sharp professionalism he'd seen in various situations, depth and intelligence that went beyond her narrow field, she was flawed but she didn't hide them. He didn't know how Logan felt about Rory meddling in his affairs like she had by speaking to Mitchum, but as Owen saw it, he actually believed that was something that one should appreciate - it showed deep love and devotion. The woman behind a successful man - if one were to speak in cliches. It wasn't that his own marriage was frail or unhappy - they had their moments, but in this changed life there were occasions in which he could sense Charlotte's shallowness, even if it wasn't prevailing. Even though Charlotte still appreciated flea markets, body art and off the beaten path London with its underground clubs and street food more than Michelin star restaurants and business dinners that she too was to attend quite frequently, money did seem to change people, which had left Owen a little disappointed, a little less in love than he had been with Charlotte months ago - but as far as he knew that was just the newly-wed bubble wearing off.
"I know," Logan sighed. He couldn't help but to feel a tinge of jealousy - knowing how once Owen and Rory had indeed connected, however briefly. And the fact that he seemed to appreciate that definitley made him think that maybe he was being unfair.
As Logan settled behind a table at the Porcupine, a slightly upper class but casual English pub, two pints of Guinness in his hands, Owen having excused himself for a minute, Logan took a deep breath and pulled up Rory's message, deciding to take the higher road.
"Thank you," he type. Even if it wasn't the enthusiasm he'd hoped - she was essentially saying that she would support him, even if it was in the form of 'letting' him.
"And I will talk, I promise - I just need to work it out in my head first. The inspections will take a while on the house anyways, so there's time before we fully decide on it. I might try writing it…," Logan said. He needed to emphasize the 'we' in this as he didn't want it to be something that he just decided, he wanted to feel like a team with her in something other than raising the kids. He hadn't really written much in years, the last being his explanation letter to Rory in Maine - but the format allowed him some edits, setting the facts out there with proper arguments without having to worry about her initial reaction. They'd always had the rule of reading the whole letter before reacting whenever they'd done this. He hoped it would work as well as it had then.
"I love you," he added, after a short pause for thought, just as he saw Owen returning.
What he didn't know was that there was some network issue in the area and his messages were not delivered, not straight away at least, leaving Rory in the dark for a few more hours. But better late than never.
Emily wasn't really sure about the setting which she was walking into, so she'd dressed up, always considering it more appropriate to dress up if unsure, now wearing her red Sentaler wide collar wrap coat over a simple black sheath dress that she'd dressed up by a pearl necklace Richard had gotten him for their 30th anniversary. The black Birkin, she'd treated herself with a few years ago, hung on her arm making her position clear, as she knocked the lion headed knocker.
It took a few minutes before the maid appeared, but she wasn't terribly surprised by that, having looked up at the at least four floor townhouse. It took a while to climb down those stairs if there was just the one maid.
"Emily Gilmore to see Sabine Aubertin," she introduced herself, noting the maid clearly looking for some explanation. The maid was dressed in a fairly untraditional, split necklined black pantsuit which reminded her more of a spa uniform than that of a maid, and she wore her hair in a simple ponytail. Not what she expected.
"Entrez, madame Gilmore," the maid gestured her in.
As Emily took off her coat, handing it to the maid, she glanced around the building she'd just entered. It really wasn't what she'd expected. The place definitely had its share of historical character, 1600s she would presume, which had had several modernizations done - the prime examples being the glass ceiling covered patio in the middle of the house, which reminded her of various adorable little hotels in Marrakech if the glass ceiling hadn't been there, and the glass-walled elevator that had been put into one of it's corners. But what surprised her the most was how relaxed and casual this place looked. She'd expected millions of dollars of marble, classical French art displayed on the walls and antique furniture. But what she saw was - well classical art of a different genre - there was the Woman in chemise by André Derain and on the opposite wall a large abstract which Emily wasn't quite sure whether it was Pollock's or Hanuma's. The furniture was tasteful, no doubt a mixture of some antiques, but rather Asian if anything, but several notches less intimidating than one would've expected. The limestone wall of the patio to which she was being guided to, held an impressive number of hanging greenery.
The elevator sound caught Emily's attention, having gotten very little instruction from the maid where she was expected to go, so she waited.
The elevator doors opened and to her surprise without any middle-men, or women, in this case, Sabine stepped out.
"Bonjour," Sabine said. She was wearing an oversized dark blue waterfall sweater and a simple pair of chinos, clearly having not bothered with the formalities, making Emily feel slightly overdressed.
"Bonjour," Emily reflected, almost on automatic wanting to offer her her hand, which she retracted knowing too well this was a city of two cheek kisses. She simply hadn't met alone with anyone she didn't know very well, having no-one else in the room to mirror from what the appropriate conduct was, so she simply put on a brave face and greeted by simply touching cheeks and administering a weak air kiss as a gesture of good faith.
"Parles-tu français?" Sabine asked.
"Un peu," Emily replied, humbly. She was probably better than most of her acquaintances who claimed to know french, she just knew quite well what weren't her strong areas in it, like dialects or slangs and speaking in monologue.
"My english is not so good - I understand but…," Sabine explained in a broken accent, shrugging her shoulders.
Sabine guided her to sit right there at the patio, on one of the leather tub chairs, clearly having decided that her English was worse than her French just to demonstrate her power in this.
"Alors, comment va Celeste?" Sabine asked after some general compliments on the house from Emily's direction, sounding out the name Celeste with some contempt in her tone, essentially asking how Celeste was doing.
"Bien, man un peu stressant," Emily replied, expressing that she was doing fine but was feeling a little stressed.
Emily could almost anticipate her next question - something along the lines of why Celeste was stressed, but she decided to take another route.
"Ma fille a quitté la domicile 16 ans. Elle a eu un bébé. Je ne les ai plus revus pendant quinze ans," Emily said instead of letting Sabine control the conversation. She spoke about Lorelai leaving their household, her reasons and how it had lead to a lenghty silence between her and her daughter. She continued to describe how that kind loss had influenced her. This was no longer a weakness for her, but something she'd learned from. What Celeste nor Rory had realized when she'd offered to come to Paris was that she probably understood Sabine better than anyone. Even if Odette had discarded her family much later in life and as a much more mature woman than Lorelai had, the emotions Sabine must've been feeling had to be at least a little similar. Their daughters had abandoned their parents' way of life, and tried to make it on their own - and they both had. What the mothers were left with, however, was the guilt, the embarrassment of being discarded like that, the insecurity of not having been a good enough mother to realize their plans. There had been supplemental and different side causes of course, in Sabine's case the rest of the family dynamic and in Emily's case her prominent position in the Hartford society that had made her as cold as she'd shown herself as back then for years.
"La confiance est difficilement gagnée et facilement perdue," Emily said, summing up, explaining how trust was more easily lost than won. She continued to explain that trusting her daughter in her chosen path had been one of the defining moments in their relationship - that without accepting that her daughter was happy without their connections and money was the foundation of the relationship they now had. She also shared that she was happy to know her great-grandchildren, being fairly sure that Sabine by now already knew of her relation to Rory.
Pourquoi êtes-vous venu? Sabine asked, stopping her mid-sentence as she was explaining the importance of forgiveness.
Emily knew that that part may have been pushing it, explaining that it was largely about her forgiving Lorelai for embarrassing her and for the way she'd left, hoping she'd get the comparison.
"She's in limbo - she's expecting problems, hurt and for the Aubertin name to ruin what she has built," Emily said, switching to English, hoping she could follow enough, her head already aching a little for thinking in French for the good twenty minutes she'd been speaking. "Whatever you are trying to do - and I believe you mean well - it isn't working, it's only made her sceptical of your intentions. It's not easy being away like that, but this is only making it harder for her," she added. While she had seen genuinely mean people who wanted to punish other people who had betrayed them in the past, she just didn't believe someone Sabine's age was aiming to waste her remaining years on something as petty as that. She was pretty sure Sabine just wanted to know her daughter again - learn to know her and her child before it was too late - and that she just lacked the skills to do it, expecting her to come back to her after one modest gesture. She knew she could be wrong, but she'd just needed to say it. If she was wrong, then there wasn't anything she could do anyways - she wasn't a professional conflict mediator.
With no quick response from Sabine, her words clearly having left her in thought, Emily excused herself and left with some lukewarm 'goodbyes'. Whatever course Sabine took was out of her hands, but she hoped it had helped.
She couldn't fix others' problems, and she also knew people were exceptionally poor at learning from other's mistakes, but it was something. With that something in mind, as she got back to Isabelle's place, took off her shoes and put her feet up to rest a little from her outing, she picked up the phone and dialled Lorelai. Even knowing her calls were not her favourites, showing genuine interest in her life while trying to keep her opinions as much to herself as she could, was what kept their relationship alive.
AN: Big thanks for the reviews!
Sabine's house: Sotheby's property ID: ZJPVZF, and while Owen's apartment has been described in earlier chapter, not here, the location I wrote this in mind with is Cork Street, London, W1S wer170104.