The Saturday night bustle was also picking up in Paris, and actually in this city Emily Gilmore and her friend Isabel weren't feeling like too old broads attempting to pretend like they were young again that evening. The dark white catwalk was lined with chairs which seemed to be filled with women and men over the age of 50 - apparently they were the ones with real money by the looks of their watches, shoes and handbags, as Emily Gilmore noted. The younger crowd stood or leaned in the back. They'd already seen Givenchy, Wales Bonner that evening and Dior was just finishing. Despite the two of them being already rather tired, the night had been full of glamour and excitement, not to mention the choise of champagne being exquisite. It was not a bad way for Emily to end her trip to Paris this time.
Emily hadn't been focusing on much other than the show for the past couple of hours, though she had in the beginning briefly noticed several people she'd also met at the art house exhibition, one of her old aquaintances she knew from London and also noted Sabine from the corner or her eye talking to one of the organizers. Apparently one thing Sabine certainly was was well connected.
But despite being grateful for the tickets in question, she hadn't really thought more about her, feeling like she'd already done her part and a little more, having plenty of quite genuine mingling to do herself. Naturally she would say thankyou once she saw her, but she wasn't holding her breath to get to speak to her again, knowing from last time what a struggle that had been.
Emily wasn't sure what Celeste was thinking - if she had been her, she'd surely called her mother by now. But then again she never understand how the younger generation thought about things like that. It was simply how she'd been brought up - you always talked to your elders, out or respect if nothing else, even with there were problems. But then again she only really knew a glimpse of what their relationship had been like. Even Logan Hunzberger had talked to his mother when she'd been alive, even if the communication was reluctant.
Besides watching the shows, Emily also observed the crowd, believing firmly that being the best indicator of what was 'in' - as she knew damn well that most of these outfits they saw on stage were the kind that someone her age was never going to wear. She hardly went to big social events these days, and showing too much skin was also frowned upon in her age. What Emily got from the crowd, however, was that grey hair was making a comeback - something she'd never really dared to experiment with. And while she worried something like that might make her look old she did wonder for whose sake was she really keeping up the pretence of being anything but?
Emily also observed Isabelle, who was a few years younger than she was, exchanging glances with a stylish man in the second row, who could've easily been T.R Pescod in his 'past life'. She missed that - even if she did have a few admirers now and again, it was nothing that seriously engaged her mentally.
She was jolted out of her thoughts by clapping, having gotten lost in her thoughts. The designer walked to the stage, and the models dressed to the nines walked in a row behind him, clapping as well. It wasn't all pointless - Emily did notice a jacket she might want to purchase. That's what her life was about these days - finding the small things that gave her life joy.
It was then, as the designer reached the front of the catwalk and cameras flashed, when a wave of people's voices in surprise or shock carried over the back of the room. She heard commotion, people speaking urgently, the ones on the stage hesitated perhaps for a moment, but shiftly finished their show, not staying around for further limelight as there seemed to be something more going on. From up front neither Emily or Isabelle could really tell what was up. But within seconds calls for 'ambulance' travelled to them as well, raising concern for whoever this involved.
Emily didn't really know what to think - it was not like their skills were going to be of much use here. It wasn't that she didn't care, but she simply had seen things like this - heart attacks, anginas and strokes happen to people in all sorts of places and times - she wasn't particularly eager to witness another one, Richard's death still being in her mind like it had happened yesterday. Them and many others made their way to the exit, the evening's celebratory mood having been ruined in an instant, getting their coats, as they saw the paramedics arrive. It was best to stay out of the way.
Isabelle excused herself to the ladies room before leaving, and Emily waited in the hallway, seeing people rush back and forth, some simply gathering up their things to leave. The next minute she noticed an interesting dynamic where the paramedics pushed the gurney down the hall, but instead of leaving them the privacy to move the patient - photographers and others guests with their phones out, were getting ready to take pictures of the action.
Emily felt like protesting - everyone was allowed to be sick and not be photographed like this - whatever the condition, whoever the person.
It was then she saw it - the person on the gurney under a oxygen mask, her burgundy dress cut open but her chest covered with a blue sheet of paper at the moment, lying unconscious, was Sabine. For a moment she felt a jolt go through her - that she hadn't expected.
"Put those cameras away!" Emily ordered the crowd, yelling, "How dare you! How about I come and photograph you on your worst day!?" The yelling went on until gurney was loaded into the ambulance and at the very least she ruined several photos by getting in the way herself. Sure, she hadn't been able to stop all of the pictures - but she hoped that it'd at least influence the amount or where those pictures ended up, perhaps even knocking on the concious of some of those people. She had no doubt that one of the bottiom feeder magazines would publish at least one of those pictures.
Isabelle returned, seeing Emily all flustered.
"That was just Sabine Aubertin - must've been something with her heart," she deducted from the looks of the woman - it looked like they'd needed to use the defibrillator, as indicated by her cut up dress. They'd ripped the buttons of Richard's Tom Ford tuxedo shirt as well when he'd collapsed at the Henderson's cocktail party, the situation hitting close to her heart.
It was then it hit her - she needed to be the one to call Celeste.
Celeste had been just sitting at home, watching Frozen II with Jess and Evie, having had an utterly domestic day of sleeping late, tidying the place up, cooking a few meals ahead for the next week and playing with Evie. It had been pouring outside, the temperature being just barely above freezing and it really was rather difficult to distinguish whether it was actually raining or was it slush. Either way - the snow had melted and left the ground dangerously slippery with the former snow layer underneath. This was not the day to go to the park to play or drive somewhere for an outing, and she didn't particularly want to - quite enjoying the coziness of the couch snuggled into Jess' side, under a throw blanket, while Evie preferred to sit on the floor on one of her gigantic pillows.
"Hand me my phone, will you?" Celeste asked Jess, sitting furthest from the side table, hearing her phone do a tiny 'ping' like it did when she'd put it on intermediate mode, when she really didn't feel like answering most calls. Yet for some reason she was curious to see what this was - it could've been Sherry, with whom she'd spoken with for an hour yesterday about the logistics of getting her moved from her house in Saint Denis without having to deal with Remi. Sherry had already taken every precaution, including stashing the envelope with all the keys at a touristy luggage storage just off the Louvre. Now she was simply waiting for the beginning of next week when she knew Remi would be teaching an art class at the local community center in the afternoons. Celeste had already cringed at the thought of someone like that being allowed to teach anyone, and she could only hope it didn't involve any adolescents.
Celeste had missed the call from Emily, but called her right back, having not expected to hear from her.
"Emily, hi, you called?" she asked as she heard her pick up.
"Celeste, it's about your mother…," Celeste registered, the rest ending up being kind of a blur. She sat up, and listened, picking out just the information that was necessary.
"Thanks for calling," Celeste said to Emily, unsure what else to say, and let her hand fall along with the phone onto the couch.
"What?" Jess asked, seeing her go a little pale in the face.
"My mom was just taken to the hospital - something with her heart," Celeste replied, a lump forming in her throat. "I need a...," she excused herself to the study just off the living room, not wanting to cry in front of Evie, figuring she'd damaged her enough by crying in her presence on numerous occasions when she'd been struggling with the worst stretch of her depression a year ago. She would've desperately needed Jess' shoulder right now, but they both knew that leaving Evie unsupervised wasn't an option.
Once inside the study, tears fell, but it wasn't so much about fear of potential loss or grief, it was more than anything about her fear of making a decision on the matter. Should she go? Go and say what exactly and to whom? Should she just stay? Should she even care? Suddenly all the time she had to figure these things out was take away.
She had a dozen rational reason why she shouldn't go - she still had two weeks of certification classes to go - even if she knew most of it - attendance was mandatory; there was the store to take care, knowing Jess was heading to New York next week for a few days to work with Rory and sit in on some meetings at Truncheon New York; there was Evie to take care of - or at the very least not to disturb her schedule too much; and there was her 10 week doctor's appointment to have the genetic testing done. Not to mention that she had no means of proving that she actually was family. But what kind of a person was she if she didn't go to check on her mother's wellbeing?
She didn't even know which hospital - though she could assume that Necker was the likeliest, many in her family having been long-time philanthropists in relation to the place.
Celeste tried to stay strong - somehow this happening now to her mother was influencing her a lot more than when she'd heard her father had died. Then she hadn't gone - she hadn't gone to the funeral either, but that she hadn't really ever regretted. But this was the final connection that even had some glimmer of positiveness to it.
She took a few deep breaths, and tried to stop herself from crying - it helped, but was only making her more anxious. She dialled Yvette, having gotten her number from G - as she was the one who knew anything if there was anything to know - though even she wasn't family and she wasn't sure what kind of information they'd give her at the hospital.
She must've tried a dozen times, getting the busy tone until she finally got through. She sat and stood, unable to stand still, browsing potential plane tickets in between to find out what it cost these days and then closing the browser again, thinking rationally than before getting any tickets she at least needed to get a hold of Yvette. Essentially she was panicking.
"Oui allo?" the frail voice answered the call. She wasn't really sure if Yvette had her number or not.
"Comment est-elle?" Celeste asked, a weak vibration in her voice not hiding the fact that she was upset, forgetting to introduce herself.
She could hear Yvette let out a deep sigh, but she didn't seem to be questioning her identity. An explanation followed, but at some point Yvette's words just blended into a row of words which didn't really register. She disconnected the call a few minutes later, wordlessly, and walked back into the living room, feeling numbness.
Jess was alert, standing on his feet by now, as if wanting to step into action - whatever that entailed. He looked concerned and for good reason.
Celeste's face was blotchy, her lips and nose red from crying, but tears no longer came. She f nelt unable to hide in the study alone any longer - she needed him. Celeste hid herself in the side of Jess' neck, feeling his pulse on her cheek, which was surprisingly calming.
"She died in the ambulance. Cardiogenic shock - heart attack - whichever came first," Celeste explained quietly with a brief shrug. She knew little about these medical aspects.
Jess stroked her back, holding her, feeling relieved Evie seemed captured by the animation and was quietly singing along with her own lyrics, oblivious of the complexe grief her mother was experiencing.
It was a strange mixture of relief, guilt and grief - she couldn't have stopped this. The positive of this was that her anxiety about going or not going was washed away - it no longer mattered.
Various thoughts ran through her head: She'd never told her about the baby; she could've called her even if not to tell her about the baby; she could've had a relationship with her, even if it was a brief and superficial one, instead of having almost none. But as for the foreseeable decade her family was out of the picture, with her brother in jail, she almost felt free.
"You look beautiful," Logan whispered to Rory's hair, as he kissed head in passing, the two of them having just handed over their coats to the coat check and began to follow the hostess to their table.
Rory did look gorgeous - wearing a dark floral knee-length dress by Yumi Kim. It was celebratory, but wasn't particularly revealing, but that wasn't really Rory's style either. But Logan really didn't need that, the sight of her with the pretend pierced nipples still coming up in his mind, forcing him to remind himself time and time again to hold it together as they were in public. She didn't need to show flesh to be sexy to him.
He hadn't held back either - it was their night - going with a slim dark blue suit, with a tone darker shirt, no tie and two buttons undone. The sight was no doubt a handsome one, Rory even noting one of the women in one of the tables they passed, looking after him.
Logan really hadn't disappointed with his choice of venue - Clos Maggiore was wonderful this time of the year, but then again it was in every season really. The white flower-decorated ceiling and the open fire in the fireplace created an exquisite atmosphere.
"Wow, I almost forgot how nice this place was," Rory commented, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. She'd gone almost all out tonight, at least enough so it suited her dress - her lips were painted in bright red, a pair of natural pearl earrings Logan had gotten her for their second anniversary in her ears and carrying a small YSL quilted clutch Celeste had gifted her from her own collection, definitely blending in at this venue.
"And who exactly have you been here with?" Logan asked with astonishment. He'd hoped it would've been a surprise, something unique for her to experience from this visit. He'd been here with Celeste, it was one of her favourite places, but it had then been about putting up appearances more than anything. Tonight it really wasn't about that - if anything he wanted to show his wife off, but more than anything it was one of the most romantic place in London he knew, excluding the Ivy which had lost some appeal to them, reminding them a little too much of their sad partings.
"A certain Mrs. Shropshire," Rory confessed in whisper, with some regret in her tone, as they were led to their table close to the fire.
"We can leave if the memory is too painful," Logan suggested, jokingly, adding a smirk and aided Rory to her seat. It was unnecessary, but sweet, before taking his own seat.
"Yeah, like I'd give up their Cornish Crab starter," Rory replied, rolling her eyes. She knew good food and where to get it.
Logan smiled - god, how he'd missed just being out with her like this. It really did feel like good old times, the best parts of those times at least. They'd been in London together so many times - it almost felt as much like their city as New York did.
Their little afternoon delight had left the two quite giggly, having discovered something new about both of them - for one Rory was definitely not a timid and traditional housewife, not that Logan had thought so, but Rory herself had felt a little like that, and Logan wasn't the man to fully embrace the role of a 'master' either, having discovered that he wasn't really out to order her around for his own benefit. He feasted with his eyes, played with the thoughts of control and anticipation - but he didn't want to treat her like a submissive really. There was control and there was control.
After they'd ordered - a bottle of Corton Grand Cru Domaine De Montille, Cornish Crab and Carlingford Oysters, Longhorn Beef Sirloins, followed later by coffees and Valrhona Chocolate, they looked at each other for a moment, finally feeling like nobody else wanted anything from them.
They'd spent the time in between going through another list of questions: What they wanted from their life in 10 years? Had they ever dreamt about each other? What was their favourite thing the other did in bed? If one could have a redo in life, what would one change? - among others. They truly were working - these were things one never thought about while changing diapers or in a board meeting.
"Do you think we're good?" Rory asked, sounding slightly hesitant.
"I'd like to think we are…," Logan began, but realized that she probably wouldn't be asking him it like that if she herself believed it, "...better at least. But I don't think we should just let loose - anything else from that list, and I'm more than happy to oblige," he said. "I've really enjoyed today," he added.
"Me too," Rory replied.
"Good," Logan replied. "So - have we got any more questions to go through or are we doing whatever comes naturally tonight?" he asked.
"I actually wanted to tell you a couple of things," Rory decided to say. She felt as if that openness and honesty were perhaps a few things that they needed to work on still. "I know this evening is supposed to be about just us, but I've been keeping these things to myself, as they're not really my secrets to tell, but I feel like I don't want to keep them from you. I feel like I'm hiding things, and it's not helping. So - I need you to promise that you'll just listen. I just feel like until I tell you everything, like I used to, there's always going to be some distance," Rory said, having thought about it a lot recently. She didn't want to be around her own home, keeping bits and pieces of things she knew from her husband. So far it had been easiers as he'd been away, but that was also a part of things he'd missed - that he didn't fully understand but should.
"Of course," Logan replied. "It sounds serious," he added, worriedly. He hadn't really wanted their night to be shaded by serious topics, but clearly this was something she'd been keeping to herself and wanted to get off her chest.
Rory told her about G and Finn, what G had found out about her stepdad and her mother and how Rory and Celeste were now trying to help Sherry. She'd spoken discretely about the whole thing, rather speaking with her intonation and gestures than spelling every detail out, as they were in public. But she just hadn't been able to keep it all to herself any longer. Keeping this to herself had been much harder than she'd imagined.
"Now I really do feel guilty," Logan said. "You could've told me, you know…," he added. Maybe he hadn't asked enough about how she had been doing?
"As I said, I felt like I couldn't - not because I didn't trust you but just because of the others," Rory explained, apologetically. She'd worried so much about keeping the trust between her and G, but in the midst of all of this it has been too hard for just her to know.
"No more secrets?" Logan suggested, seeing how strongly keeping them had weighed her.
"Agreed," Rory exhaled.
Their wine was then brought to the table, and after tasting it the two finally took a much-needed sip.
"Can I come clean about something that's been bothering me?" Logan asked, feeling the need to unload a little too - as they were already on heavier topics. "And please don't get mad..," he begged, actually sensing like the setting was working for his favour in this moment.
Rory just raised her eyebrows at him expectantly.
"I don't fully trust Owen around you. I trust you, but… him… I don't know," he admitted with a sigh.
Rory was just about to object that there was nothing there, but she realized that was not that moment. She couldn't be the one to restore trust between Logan and his brother. He might have trusted him with the company, but apparently not with her.
"I know what you want to say..., and honestly I want to believe it's all in my head - but I just have a gut feeling," Logan shrugged, shaking his head, continuing explaining some of the upset his jealousy had caused him.
"But he's married," Rory stated in a non-argumentative tone.
"He is. But I don't think it's nowhere near as solid as we are," Logan said.
A moment of silence lingered - with this knowledge they did feel a lot stronger.
Rory knew Logan had been right about guys liking her before this, he saw what she often didn't. And as he put it very clearly that he wasn't doubting her but rather Owen, she almost took that as a cautioning rather than something she ought to be dismissing as something silly. If he felt strongly enough about it to say it - then she needed to show that she respected his gut feeling.
"Okay," Rory exhaled. While she wouldn't admit to it at the time - deep down she'd sensed something too - Owen was a lot like Logan in a lot of ways, he was likeable, challenging and no doubt attractive. There was a recepie for disaster written in him, and she unconsciously knew it. Staying away and being careful was the smart thing to do.
"That's it?" Logan asked, having expected at least some objection.
"If that's how you feel then I'm taking your word for it, and when it comes to him - I'll just be cautious," Rory promised.
"So the idea of working with him in the future…?" Logan asked, hating to put her idea down like this, having seen her excitement.
She didn't really want to give up on that idea, but in this situation - it was the price she had to pay.
"I'll think of something else," Rory assured. It hurt a little, but she knew she'd be fine.
"I hate robbing you of this, you know - I heard how excited you were, I did notice," Logan said, regretfully, but at the same time feeling relief for her understanding.
"I'm trusting you on this," Rory assured.
"Thanks," he replied, squeezing her hand again.
Then their food was brought to the table, scattering the heavier subjects for the evening.