AN: A huge thanks for all the reviews - 700 in total, feels great (I know, the numbre or chapters is also big, but still). I never would have imagined writing anything this long, or pretty much writing almost a chapter a day for almost a year now (I wrote my first chapter mid august last year), and right about this time last year I was rewatching the series and first time watching AYITL for the first time in over 15 years. Funny, how things work out sometimes :)
I know the chapter isn't terribly long this morning, but we'll see - maybe I'll have time for another - I'm taking everything out of my final holiday weeks.
I would also like to point out that some of you are really giving me some great ideas with your reviews! I'm not too great at sticking to my own plot plans - but who cares, right - as long as it's fun to write/read.
Emily had already booked a ticket home for that weekend - two and half weeks seemed like a significant stretch of time to crash someone's house, if one were to go by Lorelai's vocabulary, like she found herself going more and more these days. Isabel wasn't very eager for her to leave, truthfully, she liked having the company. They'd done it all in the meanwhile - art shows, seen Ephigénie en Tauride at the Opera, walked the Bois du Boulogne, gone shopping and simply allowed themselves the luxury of two glasses of wine with lunch on more than one occasion. It had been fun, but Emily wasn't one to overstay her welcome, hoping Isabel would come to visit her in the summer in return.
Emily was just packing up custom made perfume she'd had made for her, wrapping it in bubble wrap, and placing that inside a zip-lock bag, when her phone rang, playing Chopin's Waterfall as the ringtone.
"Celeste, thank you for returning my call," Emily answered cordially, having left a message earlier.
Celeste was in her third day of classes for getting her AASECT certification. The classes were taking place at the State convention center, which was at the same time having the New England Winter Festival volleyball tournament which wasn't providing the calmest setting for learning if one were to step outside of the classroom, like she was doing now.
"Hey, I'm sorry, I was taking a class actually," Celeste replied, already becoming anxious to find out what Emily had learned. A game whistle could be heard in the background, which was a little distracting.
"I just wanted to let you know that, not that I can claim to know the absolute truth in these things - but the impression I got from your mother was that she doesn't mean to cause you distress. She perhaps doesn't know how to reach out, she's stuck in her old ways. But because she's lost so much already, she's simply trying to regain some type of relationship with you," Emily continued to explain what she'd talk to Sabine about, quite generally.
It didn't really give Celeste much closure - it was still possible that Emily's hunch, while she wanted to trust it, could be wrong.
"Thank you for doing it, thank you for trying," Celeste replied.
"Just talk to the woman. She's not the kind to do a lot of initiating, I think, so my suggestion is to pick up the phone and just talk to her," Emily assured.
"I guess," Celeste sighed, really not feeling like picking up the phone to call Sabine.
"Well alright, I'll be heading back in the weekend, I assume I'll see you around," Emily said in passing.
"Thank you, again, really," Celeste replied as the crowd cheered in the distance.
"Bye-bye," Emily said.
"Bye," she replied.
Celeste didn't really know what she'd been hoping for, but she'd hoped for more - something concrete like her mother stating her agenda, which she knew was a little unrealistic to begin with but she just didn't trust her. It was that simple. And she now felt disappointed in what she'd learned and also in a way in herself for having hoped to find something more solid. Maybe the PI should've been the way to go?
Celeste smiled, friendlily, to a couple of people she'd been to class with who were heading towards the adjacent meeting room that held their buffet lunch. She could already smell bland risotto from the distance, and she followed them, putting her phone away.
Maybe it was the pregnancy talking, but thanks to having to sit still for 8 hours each day and the lunch that really wasn't very healthy, the classes, while containing little new information so far, weren't really something she looked forward to, hence she made a mental note to bring her own food the following day. She just wanted this to be over.
She was relieved to find a fresh salad this time, and filled her plate with that instead and took a seat at one of the round 5-person tables, where a couple of people from her class, a woman a few years older than her and another younger man in his late 20s was already sitting.
"Hi! Do you mind if I sit here?" Celeste asked, bringing her plate, along with a glass of water to the table.
"Of course," the older woman, whose name tag said Tonicha.
"Hello, Celeste," the man spoke, reading off her name tag. Celeste's gaydar was giving her very mixed signals about the man, according to his name tag - Alexander, was definitely sounding very effeminate and his body language was definitely along those same lines, while he looked very similar to Luke, while a lot skinnier. Celeste shrugged at that thought - it didn't really matter, but just from a people observing perspective it gave her something to do when the class was discussing birth control options, which she knew a lot more of than the certification required.
"So where do you teach?" Tonicha asked. It was becoming very clear to Celeste that most of the people taking this class were already working in schools, mostly teachers who wanted the extra work or needed to make ends meet by working full time if their own classes didn't allow it.
"Nowhere yet, I'm starting after I finish this in Stars Hollow High, it's like 20-25 minutes from here," Celeste shared.
"So you're not a teacher?" she asked with some surprise.
"No," Celeste replied, humbly. "I have a PR background. I recently move to a small town, a bit of a mid-life career change," she added, hoping it would at least explain enough that she wasn't afraid of crowds. She'd encountered this attitude also yesterday at lunch, people wishing her luck through disbelief that she'd be able to handle it. It was only making her want to prove them wrong more.
"I'm at Weston," Tonicha replied. "I mostly teach bio, some chemistry," she added.
"What about you?" Celeste asked, turning to Alexander.
"Baldwin, that's in Guilford," Alexander replied, his mouth still half full. "But I'm not a teacher, I'm the guidance counselor - someone had to do it," he explained with a shrug.
"So what's your top three recommendations for a starting teacher like me?" Celeste decided to ask head first. What she was lacking was the actual teacher training behind this, and while she'd always have a mentor at the school to ask these things, she thought she might just as well take full advantage of her current setting.
"I like this attitude of yours," Tonicha chuckled, approvingly. "I would say… start with a quiz of some sort - find out what they already know, and about their cultural and religious background, so you know if there are any red flags there," she suggested.
"That's good," Alexander approved. "I think the anonymous question box or a virtual blackboard is a good way to go and if it's middle schoolers there'll definitely be some crude jokes, so prepare for that," he suggested.
This wasn't really news to Celeste - Rory had provided her with a lot of online resources she could use to spruce things up. But despite the whole thing feeling a little underwhelming right now, she did feel like she was doing the right thing. She cared about what kind of knowledge kids had about these things, and she hoped she'd be able to carry a relaxed yet responsible attitude towards it, she wanted this to be something that she could lift some of the taboo around speaking about it. This was what she clung to at the moment, as she swallowed her disappointing salad. And also - this was providing a very good distraction from her thoughts on her mother and her pregnancy.
Back in Paris Emily was heading back downstairs to grab a drink before dinner, Isabel having suggested the maid cook some of her famous soupe a l'oignon, more commonly known as onion soup. With the winter getting chillier outside, it was definitely a good prospect for the evening. She just reached the bottom of the stairs when she heard the doorbell ring. Normally it would've been the maid's job to answer it, but as she knew the woman was busy in the kitchen and she was right there, she called out over the hallway, "je vais répondre".
It was the UPS, who handed Emily a small but thick envelope, asking her to sign for it.
"Isabel, I believe there's a package for you," Emily began, only thinking about wanting to go wash her hands. She despised couriers, always imagining how dirty the exteriors of these packages must've been. But it was only then she noted that the envelope said Emily Gilmore instead.
"Oh, sorry - it's for me," she corrected, struggling to grasp who might send her a package to this address. Sure her family knew where she was, but it would've truly been a surprise to get anything like that from them.
She opened up the package, finding a smaller envelope and another larger, more flexible, plastic envelope inside. She opened up the first one to find two invitations to the opening event of the Paris Haute Couture Week. The small note inside said: "Pour toi et ton ami. Bien amicalement, Sabine", saying that they were for Emily and her friend.
The gesture seemed indeed like a small olive branch. Sabine owed her nothing, but yet she'd felt the need to send it. These tickets were invitation only, and form the way Sabine seemed to dress outside of her home gave Emily a pretty good idea she herself was a frequent visitor in this type of event. She appreciated the gesture, and made a mental note to postpone her flight by a few days.
Emily dug deeper into the package, and fished out the large plastic envelope. Opening it she saw another note for Odette which she didn't feel right opening at that moment. At the bottom of the envelope, however, she saw keys. It wasn't just one set, but two large keychains full of all sorts of different keys, some looking rather old.
Before she went off to announce to Isabel that they were going to see a live show of Dior's and Givenchy's latest lines in the weekend, she dialled Celeste again.
"Yeah?" Celeste answered, without looking at who was calling, having just finished her lunch and about to head back into class.
"This is Emily, again," she replied. "I just received a letter by courier from your mother, the package seems to include some keys," she added, hoping she would knew what this meant.
"Can you read the letter out to me?" Celeste asked, feeling quite confused why her mother hadn't just sent her this letter.
"Are you sure?" It seems personal," Emily hesitated, despite being curious.
"It's fine, I'm kind of in a hurry. Or you can snap a picture of it and send it to me?" she suggested.
Emily didn't know how to do all that. A picture perhaps, but sending it - that was beyond her.
"I'll read it," she agreed and continued to read out the one page letter to Celeste. The letter referred to her as Odette, as it seemed to be something Sabine insisted on. It contained an apology, a sincere sounding apology of her not being the mother Celeste perhaps had needed. She explained that the sets of keys were in fact keys to her properties and she continued to explain that all the documentation on both of them were inside the properties. She explained their taxes being paid, and communal costs for the next 15 years covered in advance. Sabine expressed her wish to have a relationship with her, though without mentioning in what format exactly. She'd signed it 'Bizoux, Sabine' meaning 'kisses' which alone was the warmest expression Celeste had heard her mother say in more than three decades.
"Thanks," Celeste replied in a slightly shaky voice. She wasn't really sure what to do with that information, also being disturbed by being invited back into the classroom by the lecturer. "I'll have to call you back, sorry," she added, and disconnected the call for the time being. It was definitely a lot of food for thought, consuming her mind throughout the second session of the day of her training.
The following day Logan was trying to write what he'd promised. But it wasn't going very well. Each time he'd finished a page he'd read it and it just felt wrong. It didn't sound like him. Even he could tell. What if he had changed so much he didn't even know who he was anymore?
He'd managed to more or less explain his need to protect his family, from anything that he could, and how the place near New Hartford coincided with those thoughts. But what was challenging was explaining why he felt like he also wanted to control what Rory did and why he struggled with trust. It wasn't about her working as such, it was about where and with whom she was working. He didn't even want to think it, but in his mind he kept coming back to Owen - he did worry that maybe Rory would at some point see something in Owen that she no longer saw in him, Owen's appreciative words of Rory still ringing in his ears. The kiss, however brief, still bugged him. And he knew Rory cared about Owen, they got along great, much better than Rory and Charlotte for example and he did sense some issues beginning to form between Owen and Charlotte - maybe his father was right?
These were the thoughts he didn't really want to explain to Rory, feeling too embarrassed to even think them. He couldn't tell Rory that he was struggling with trust. He needed to turn this onto himself - blame himself, if he wanted things to improve.
He'd been just finishing his lunch break, having a simple bulgur salad at his desk at his office, alone, while trying to put some words down on the screen in front of him, when after a very brief knock the familiar voice of his father reached him as he spoke a few pleasantries with the assistant up front.
"Logan!" Mitchum greeted her, not asking if it was okay to enter, feeling clearly a lot more like himself being back in his suit.
Logan pulled his laptop lid down.
"Dad, I wasn't expecting you today, I thought you were coming next week," Logan commented, still sounding positive. He was - this was hopefully cutting the time he had to stay here significantly.
"Ah, well... ," Mithcum shrugged. "Apparently clearing my schedule went a lot easier than I expected," he added with a smile. He looked clearly excited. "So Owen's at Bobby's office?" he inquired.
"Actually, he's at Valentina's," Logan explained, squinting his eyes a little, having fired the ass-kissing woman a few weeks ago.
"Uh-uh," Michum noted, getting his point without having to hear it, and shrugged. He trusted Logan's decisions on things like this so it really wasn't an issue.
"Alright, so I'll just loan Wilma's assistance then and get settled upstairs," Mitchum suggested, referring to Logan's current assistant. His old office, much grander than the CEO's was upstairs. "Anything more on the agenda for today?" he asked.
"Meeting with the chief editors at 3 if I recall correctly, check with Wilma," Logan replied.
"Right, I'll sit in and get me up to speed," Mitchum replied.
"Right," Logan exhaled, not knowing whether to fear that or not, and opened up his laptop again. He was supposed to be happy about this, but at the same time he felt concerned about whether this would lead to the company becoming too rigid and driven by fear again like it had been under his father's reign years ago. Sure, Mitchum was older, and a little bit more laid back, but he was clearly enjoying this shift in positions a little more than Logan had expected - he could almost say that Mitchum seemed to have missed this.
"Oh, and Logan?" Mitchum said, just as he was about to leave.
"Yeah?" Logan responded, looking back up at him.
"And I'd start booking those tickets home if I were you. Rory made it sound urgent enough when she talked to me," Mitchum said, breaking his promise to Rory not to tell Logan about the fact that they'd talked. He of course didn't know that Rory had confessed it to Logan. But clearly this was showing a glimpse of the old Mitchum, the one that cared about himself and the company first and foremost.
Logan knew it wasn't that simple, and that essentially Mitchum telling him that was a power move more than anything. In some way it was a little demeaning even - like he or she wasn't strong enough to do this. But he had so many other things on his mind that he just didn't care what Mitchum thought anymore - he was beyond searching for his approval.
Logan replied with a stern grin, as Mitchum headed out.
Logan had a lot of things to wrap up still, so he wasn't getting out of there until the beginning of next week at the earliest. Besides, he wanted to have his act together before he went - he needed to figure out how to fix himself.