He stood in front of the door, bouncing lightly on his toes to fend away the early December cold that nipped at him through his cashmere Burberry overcoat. After a minute, the door swung open to reveal his mother. Either the maid was otherwise occupied, or Shira had seen it was him on the app on her cell phone that went along with their high-end security system. It was probably the former, since his mother could still barely make a call on her smart phone.
"Logan, what a lovely surprise," her voice lilted as she ushered him into the foyer. "I wasn't expecting you tonight, was I?"
"Umm, no, actually," he admitted. He figured a sneak attack was best. If he'd told her beforehand that he needed to speak to her about something, her mind would have far too much time to dream up all sorts of scenarios.
"Oh, good. I was worried. I've been so scattered since, well, you know…" Logan nodded in understanding. He did know. And making her say it wouldn't do anyone any good. "Anyway, I'm supposed to go to a meeting for the board of the Mark Twain House tonight. We're planning a fundraiser next month and we still need to decide on the caterer and the musician. I would hate to have agreed to have you over and then have to leave."
"Well, this shouldn't take too long," Logan assured her. "I actually have dinner plans myself tonight. It's why I'm in town." He took his coat off and hung it on the coat rack despite his words. He couldn't just break this news in the foyer with his jacket on and then bolt.
"Oh?" Shira brightened, an enthusiastic grin on her face. Dinner plans in Hartford were good. Hartford was class and wealth, and sensibility. Manhattan was gauche and unrefined and full of working women. At least according to Shira. But she was about to be sorely disappointed in what Hartford had to offer. He knew from his sister that their mother had always tolerated Emily Gilmore at best. And now that they were on the verge of losing everything…any respect she'd had for the Gilmores was long gone. And the fact that Rory worked and wanted to keep working…it might very well give his mother a coronary. "With who?"
"Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about? Can we sit?" He motioned to the settee in the great room they had arrived in through the French doors off the entryway.
"Of course, Dear." Shira was still wearing a shit eating grin as she took a seat. Logan made his way to the drink cart.
"Can I pour you a drink?" he enquired, as he uncorked a bottle full of scotch and helped himself.
"Oh, that's fine," Shira waved a hand. "There's no time to decant the wine and I'm sure there will be some at the meeting." Logan deflated some. He'd hoped a little alcohol would help numb the shock he was about to impart on his mother.
"Alright then," he said, sitting down opposite her and taking a sip from his tumbler. He took a moment to let the liquid courage wash over him, but it didn't seem to be having the desired effect. He'd probably need to drink far more than was sensible to get even close to the desired effect. Well, he had no choice but to go ahead with this conversation anyway; his purchase of the Gilmore home had been accepted and he was officially in escrow. And he and Rory had met with their lawyers yesterday to get the ball rolling on the pre-nup. There was no turning back now. Which was how he wanted it before he confessed to his mother. He reached to up scratch his chin nervously, a tell his mother knew well. He saw the smile on her face fade slightly in response to the gesture.
"You know…" she butted in, trying to preempt whatever bad news Logan was about to tell her. "If you don't have to go back to the city tonight, I'm having lunch with my dear friends David and Celleste Kamson tomorrow. Maybe they're daughter, Jennifer, is free to join us. I just know you two would hit it off."
"Actually, umm…" he scratched his chin again, "that won't be necessary." Shira's once jovial face darked even more to one of full-on suspicion, but she kept her voice light and sweet as she responded.
"Now Logan, I know that you've been hesitant to find a wife, but time is running out. And this is a good opportunity for you to…"
"Well, that's the thing…" he interrupted. "I actually have…found a wife. Or a wife to be, technically, but yeah..."
Shira's jaw dropped, her eyes widening in shock. She'd been expecting some update on this front when he told her he was in Hartford for dinner, but she'd likely been expecting a date or two first. She'd clearly though she would have some input on whatever match Logan was planning, although he was still baffled by whatever had given her that idea as he'd never once, in his almost 30 years on this planet, been amenable to her involving herself in his personal life. "To who?"
"To Rory Gilmore."
"Excuse me?" the words came out as a near shriek.
"Rory Gilmore," he repeated even though he knew she'd heard him perfectly well. "You know her grandparents, Richard and Emily."
"Absolutely not!" Shira stood up for extra emphasis.
"Really?" Logan asked, playing dumb. "I thought you and Emily were on the Pediatric Hospital Committee together."
His mother shot him an icy glare. "I mean, absolutely not will you marry that girl! I forbid it."
"With all due respect, Mom, you don't really have a say in the matter."
"The hell I don't. You will marry Rory Gilmore over my dead body. Do you want two dead parents?" He knew it was meant to be a manipulative threat that sent a wave of panic through him, but quite honestly, he was immune to his mother's histrionics by now.
"Well, I have always wanted the ski chalet in Mont Blanc."
Shira gasped with outrage. "How dare you speak to your mother like that!"
"Oh come on, Mom. You're not going to die if I marry Rory Gilmore. At worst, you'll get a few stress migraines." And at least one of the pills in one of the dozens of bottles in her medicine cabinet was sure to take care of that.
"Is this some sort of punishment?" Shira asked, starting to pace back and forth in front of the sofa. "Is this your way of getting back at us for putting that clause in in the first place? Because that was all your father. I had nothing to do with it."
"You haven't exactly been torn up about it either," Logan noted. "But no. Believe it or not, my choice of wife has nothing to do with you."
"Logan, just think about this. Rory wants to work. She's a reporter, travelling around doing this and that. A girl like Rory has no idea what it takes to be in this family. She wasn't raised that way. She wasn't bred for it. And this isn't at all about her mother. It's just, you come from two totally different worlds."
"Are you serious?" He knew how she felt but he was a little surprised at her just coming out and saying it point blank. He was going to owe Rory a lot more than a house if she had to go around listening his mother spout this kind of rhetoric for the next two years.
"What was wrong with the Fallon girl? I loved her."
"Laura Fallon is insipid and shallow."
"What a terrible thing to say. She's a lovely girl. And absolutely beautiful. Oh, she'd look so gorgeous in a wedding gown." His mother said the last part dreamily.
"Rory is beautiful too. And intelligent. And witty." Rory Gilmore was a million times the woman Laura Fallon was. And he'd gladly spend a lifetime married to her if it meant not having to spend two years with Laura. Fortunately, he wouldn't have to, but still. Love match or no, Rory at least was a decent human being.
"Laura is a model."
"No, she's an 'influencer,'" Logan corrected using air quotes around the word.
"She has almost one million followers on that Instapage."
"Instagram, Mom. It's called Instagram. And that's because no one in real life can stand her so she needs to get all her validation from strangers on the internet."
"Why are you doing this to me?" his mother howled.
Logan let out a sigh, getting up to comfort his mother though it was probably the last thing she deserved. "Look," he said, laying a hand on her arm. "I'm sorry if this is upsetting to you, but I'm not doing this to hurt you. The truth is, Rory and I have actually been seeing each other for a while now." Logan vaguely recalled reading an article about how to spot a liar, and in it, they mentioned that any statement that stared with 'truthfully,' or some version thereof, was almost always a lie. He hoped his mother hadn't read the same article.
Shira scoffed. "Oh please, you expect me to believe such a thing? How convenient that you had a secret, serious girlfriend waiting in the wings to marry you but you waited a month and half from the time of the will reading to tell anyone about it."
"I never said it was serious," Logan pointed out. "At least, I didn't think it was at the time. Definitely not serious enough for marriage." He'd planned his story out carefully. It needed to be believable enough for his mother who knew about the marriage clause, and to the public that didn't. His mother would probably continue to suspect, but she'd have no proof otherwise, and without it, there wasn't much she could do but go along with it. "We'd been together about six months, two exclusively. With the fact that she worked for the company, we figured it was best to keep it quiet until we knew if it was going anywhere. When I found out about the will, I freaked at the thought of making it get that serious that quickly. It seemed easier to pick someone I didn't care about at all. So, I broke it off. But every time I even considered someone else, it just felt wrong. I couldn't imagine it being anyone but her. And yeah, if I had my way, I wouldn't be getting married to her right now; it's way too soon. But…" he let out his best version of a dreamy sigh, really trying to sell the story. "Rory's the real deal and I don't know…maybe it would have been her eventually anyway."
"Oh fuck this," Shira grumbled, turning and marching over to an antique table in the corner and yanking open a drawer. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes, immediately tipping it over to tap one into her hand. She threw the pack back and took out a silver lighter, flicking it on and taking a deep drag.
"You're smoking in the house now, Mom?" he asked. It was Shira Huntzberger's worst kept secret that she was closet smoker, but she at least usually gave pretense to hiding it.
"Why not?" she shrugged as she took another hit of the addictive nicotine. "Your father's not here to be bothered by it. Who's going to complain? The maid? And if there was ever a time that called for a cigarette, it'd be now."
"I could think of some other occasions that would call for a cigarette indoors…Mine and Rory's wedding night for one. For me of course, not you." He causally sipped his scotch.
Shira shuddered. "Don't' be crass, Logan."
"Look," he said with a sigh. While he did derive a perverse sense of satisfaction out of pissing off his mother—a hobby he knew he should have long ago outgrown—he didn't have time to sit here and argue. He was meeting Rory at her grandparents in half an hour. "This is decided. Like it or not, Rory and I are getting married. So, you can either get on board and spend the next two months planning the wedding of your dreams, or you can sit around and sulk."
"The wedding of my dreams doesn't involve Rory Gilmore," she muttered petulantly.
"And you will be nice to my fiancée," Logan stressed. "Or you will not be involved."
"Logan, please, reconsider this. It's not too late to choose someone more suitable."
"More suitable to who, Mom? You? I've made my choice. Now I have to meet Rory at her grandparents' for dinner." He finished the last of his drink and set the empty tumbler down on the bar cart. "Have a nice time at your meeting tonight." And with that, he headed out to his car, leaving his mother to stew in her defeat.
Rory turned into the driveway, pulling up next to her mother's tan Jeep. She glanced at the clock…6:55, then at her watch to ensure the clock on the car wasn't running slow; it wasn't. She glanced again at the Jeep on her right confirming that it was in fact her mother's car. Judging by the presence of her mother sitting in the driver's seat, lip syncing to a song Rory couldn't hear, it was indeed. She turned off her ignition and got out, approaching her mom who seemed thoroughly absorbed in her imaginary rock concert. Through the window she could make out the rhythm of We Got the Beat…along with Lorelai's strained singing voice. Apparently she wasn't just lip syncing.
She knocked on the window and her mother startled, letting out a gasp before rolling down her window. "Oh, hey Kid, you scared me," she said.
"You're early," Rory pointed out.
"I guess I am."
"You're never early. You always make it here at least seven minutes late because you know I'm never more than five minutes late and you don't want to beat me here and be forced to have a one-on-one conversation with Grandma."
"Well, what can I say? I guess I'm feeling sentimental and wanted to get here early to spend a little extra time with the house before they lose it."
"Except that they're not losing the house—which you very well know."
Lorelai shrugged, opening the door as she rolled up the window. Once the window was closed, she turned off the engine and stepped out. "Oh, is that still happening?"
Rory rolled her eyes. "You know that it is."
"Really? Because I was sure you'd have recovered by now from whatever fugue state you'd been in when you agreed to this insane plan. Do we need to call in Dr. Fraiser Crane to come deal with this…" Lorelai gestured her hand, palm facing Rory, in a sweeping circle, "mental health crisis?"
"Look, can we not bring your weird obsession with Kelsey Grammar into this?"
"Hey! There is nothing weird about my obsession with Kelsey Grammar."
"You think he's the perfect man."
"Well, TV, movies, theater, producing? The man can do everything. If that's not perfection, I don't know what is."
"Maybe someone who believes in climate change?" Rory challenged.
"Whatever, at least I'm not arranging a pretend marriage with him to get him to buy me a house in exchange for helping him save his company. So, who's really the crazier one?"
"I'm still going with you…and Kelsey."
Lorelai sighed, her face getting uncharacteristically serious. "Okay, really, Rory…I know we like to kid around, but this isn't a joke. This is marriage we're talking about. And you barely know this guy. It's a bad idea and it's not too late to back out."
"It is too late. Logan already bought the house."
"So? Let him keep the house—sell it, whatever. You don't ever owe a man anything just because he buys you something fancy and expensive."
"This isn't sex in exchange for dinner, Mom. It's a business deal. And it is too late to back out…even if I wanted to. Which I don't." If Rory was honest with herself, she'd come around to the idea of all the opportunities this would open up for her. Yes, it was still about the house and helping her grandparents, but she'd be lying if she said she wasn't excited about what it would mean for her. That didn't mean she wasn't scared; she was terrified. But her gut told her this was the right move…as did her pro-con list.
"Oh, come on. It's just a house. I know you don't want to see your grandparents have to move but they're adults who can take care of themselves. You can't possibly think this is in anyway a sane solution."
"We've been through this, already. I've shown you the pro-con lists. You know the lists never lie."
"Sometimes they lie." Lorelai railed.
"When?"
"Umm?" Lorelai racked her brain for an example, any example to help her prove her point. Which wasn't easy because those pro-con lists actually did have a pretty good track record. But that was for dealing with things like which college to go to and which new mattress she should get. Not for deciding whether or not to marry a complete stranger in some farcical arrangement right out of a wacky sitcom…or a horror movie. "Well…" a feeling of relief washed over Lorelai as she finally came up with an answer. "Ballet!" she shouted triumphantly.
"What?"
"When you were seven, we made a pro-con list to help you decide if you should take ballet or guitar lessons, and the pro-con list said to take ballet and, well, you know how that went."
"Are you serious?"
"What? You could have been a rock star by now! You could be opening for Bono."
"Oh my god," Rory sighed, burying her face in her hands at her mother's threadbare argument. She understood why Lorelai was wary about this, but she needed to get a grip on herself. Rory was an adult, capable of making adult decisions for herself, no matter how big and seemingly crazy. Why couldn't Lorelai trust her?
"You don't know what you're getting into here, Rory!" Lorelai pleaded. "You don't know who this guy is. Why did he come to you for this? Maybe there's a reason no one else wanted to do it."
"Like what?"
"Like…he's a bad guy!"
"He's not a bad guy," Rory insisted. Paris had had some less than stellar things to say about him, but Paris had less than stellar things to say about everyone. And Rory had talked to some of her old classmates from Chilton who knew him, and her reporter friend Sheila who'd worked with him on the Yale Daily News. They'd all agreed that while he was a bit of a spoiled slacker back in the day, he wasn't a bad guy. And apparently, he'd really seemed to grow up when he met his college girlfriend.
"You don't know that. You've known him for barely a month. And you're going to have to live with him. What if he's throwing parties until 3AM and doing lines of coke in the bathroom? What if he's just an asshole who treats people like crap? What if he…" Lorelai trailed off, not able to make her last fear form into actual words. What if he hurt her? What if he hit her or…or…forced himself on her?
"You're being ridiculous." Rory had seen him be perfectly polite to the waiters at Ciro, and the staff at the lawyer's office, and everyone in the newsroom. And they'd discussed expectations for their living spaces. Plus, he would never hurt her; she trusted him.
"No, I'm not, this is dangerous, Kid. And even if he turns out to be a totally respectable boy scout, is this really the life you want to live?"
"You mean a life of travelling and meeting cool people?" Lorelai would have thought her daughter would know better than that by now. She'd seen how people in those circles operated. She'd seen the stifling expectation and judgments that came with it. Not to mention the sense of entitlement and lack of thought for anyone else.
"There are expectations that come along with that, Rory. You know that. You know what that world is like. You'll be expected to dress a certain way and act a certain way. You'll be expected to join the Junior League and the DAR…"
"I'm not joining the Junior League," Rory scoffed. "And I'm already technically in the DAR."
"You'll be expected to plan parties and manage his life. You'll be expected to schmooze his handsy business associates. You won't have time for your own stuff. You'll be spending all your free time at stuffy fundraisers. You hate those fundraisers."
"I do hate those fundraisers, but I go to them. I go to them when it helps Grandma and Grandpa. And this will help them. And it won't be all the time; Logan and I have discussed what expectations there will be and what I am and am not willing to do. We've discussed it all. You can't really think I would go into this without discussing every last detail, you know me better than that."
"It's not the same…discussing it hypothetically vs the actual pressure you will feel when you're in those situations. It's not the same. Believe me, I know."
They were cut off by the sound of crunching gravel and a set of headlights, illuminating the entire driveway.
"That's Logan," Rory replied curtly. "I'm sorry you wasted your time getting here early to try to talk me out of this, but it's happening. Now get on board because we are going in there and telling Grandma and Grandpa and you are going to play along and you are going to be nice to Logan."
Lorelai crossed her arms huffily, an annoyed pout on her face. She didn't say another word as the Porsche turned off behind them and a man got out. She let her eyes rove over the stranger who was about to become her son-in-law. She had to admit, he was not bad on the eyes. She wondered how much of that had played into her daughter's decision—she was Lorelai's daughter after all; the apple didn't fall far from the tree.
"Hey, Ace," Logan greeted, approaching Rory and giving her a kiss on the cheek.
"Hey," Rory returned with a smile—one that did nothing to ease Lorelai's concerns. And 'Ace?' What was that about? He had a nickname for her already? "Mom," Rory turned to her, "this is Logan. Logan, this is my mom, Lorelai.
"Nice to meet you." He held out his right hand, his left holding on to what she could only presume were hostess gifts for her parents. His voice was smooth—too smooth, verging on glib as he held his hand out to shake. To anyone else it would have seemed a perfectly sincere greeting, but Lorelai had grown up around enough Logan Huntzberger types to know the difference.
"Hi." She forced a smile on her own face and took his hand to shake.
"I know this must be weird for you," he acknowledged. "But I really appreciate what Rory is doing for me, and I promise, I'm not going take advantage of that." He hoped he could allay the woman's fears and get into her good graces. He understood why Rory's Mom would be skeptical of the arrangement; it was a mother's job to protect her kid. Not that he would know from experience—his mother was Shira Huntzberger, after all—but that's what he'd heard.
A scoff slipped out of her lips unbidden. Rory sent her a pointed glare and Lorelai tried to mask it behind a throat clearing even though she knew she was fooling no one. "Well, that's good to know." she replied stiffly.
Logan's charms were clearly not getting through to this woman. "Look, I get why you'd be skeptical of this," he continued on, trying to get through to her. "And I know you're a big part of Rory's life, so I hope with time, you'll see that I mean it when I say that my intentions are good and that I intend to make sure Rory is taken care of in this deal."
"Taken care of?" Lorelai rolled her eyes. "She's perfectly capable of taking care of herself. She doesn't need a sugar daddy to do that for her."
"I know. That's not what I meant." Damn, he was failing pretty epically in his attempts here. It was an experience Logan wasn't very used to. He thought he might actually feel a few beads of sweat pilling on his forehead.
"Then what do you mean?"
"Just that I know she's giving up a lot here and I want to make sure she gets just as much as she gives; that it's a fair exchange."
"A fair exchange? This is a marriage, not a…"
"Mom, enough," Rory cut her off. Logan breathed a sigh of relief. Things were going from bad to worse pretty quickly here. He didn't need more chances to put his foot in his mouth in front of Lorelai. At least Rory's grandparents would be easy to win over. Actually, he was pretty sure they'd be ecstatic to see him with their granddaughter. "We talked about this." Lorelai begrudgingly shut her mouth, not even opening it to acknowledge that she was shutting it. Rory took her silence as agreement—at least for now. She knew her mother well enough to know she couldn't stay quiet for long but as long as she didn't tell her grandparents that the marriage was a ruse, she could deal with any other snide comments. She knew Lorelai would never be happy about this but hopefully she would eventually accept it. "Good, now let's go inside. We're officially late."
Rory started up the driveway to the front door with Logan beside her and Lorelai trailing behind. "I don't think your Mom likes me," Logan leaned in to whisper in her ear.
"Gee, whatever gave you that idea?" she replied, her voice was stoic but the corner of her lips turned up teasingly.
"Should I start prepping my back up wife?"
Rory chuckled lightly. "Don't worry," she assured him. "She'll come around…well, I mean, not really. But she'll get better at pretending she has."
"Well, she and my mother can bond over their thinly veiled contempt for this union."
"See how much we have in common?"
They made it to the door and Rory reached out to ring the bell. A few seconds later her grandmother appeared.
"You're late. What have I…" Emily trailed off as she noticed who was standing in front of her. "Logan? What are you doing here?"
"Hello, Emily," he greeted. "It's so nice to see you."
"I told you I was bringing a guest, Grandma," Rory said as they made their way into the house, Lorelai still pouting silently behind them.
"Well yes, but I didn't know it was Logan. Richard, look who Rory brought to dinner." Rory could see her grandfather sitting in the other room, face buried in a book.
"As soon as I finish this paragraph, Emily," her replied with barely concealed annoyance at the interruption. Emily shook her head and started leading everyone into the parlor.
Richard finally looked up, making his place with a bookmark. "Logan?" he asked, his eyes brightening at the sight of his granddaughter's dinner companion. All traces of annoyance were gone. "What are you doing here?"
"He's my guest, Grandpa," Rory repeated the obvious.
"Well, that's wonderful news." Richard replied as he stood up to greet the young man. He turned to his granddaughter. "Rory, I approve." She smiled in amusement at the stark difference in receptions between her mother and her grandparents. They were all so predictable.
"Richard, it's good to see you. This is for you." Logan took a bottle he was holding and held it out to the man.
"Glenfidich! Oh hoh!" Richard said, his voice sounding jolly and almost Santa-like as he took the bottle. "You have excellent taste in scotch, young man."
"Yes well, my father made sure to teach me the important things," Logan replied. "Emily," he said, turning to the matriarch, "For you. A small token of my gratitude."
"Vunderschen chocolates." She gushed. "I absolutely adore these."
"I picked them up last time I was in Switzerland."
"Well, aren't you clever. Come in, come in. Can I take your coat?"
"Thank you, Emily." Logan undid his overcoat and handed it to Emily who hung it on the coat rack as Rory and Lorelai took care of their own outerwear.
They made their way into the sitting room. Rory and Logan took a seat next to one another on a settee with Lorelai sitting across from them. Emily sat in a chair while Richard made his way to the bar cart. "What do you say we break this bottle in?" Richard suggested to Logan.
"A glass of scotch would be great, Richard, thank you."
"Rory, Lorelai, would you like anything?" Emily asked.
Richard finished sorting out the drinks before taking a seat in the chair next to his wife.
"So, Rory, I didn't know you and Logan knew each other personally."
"Well, actually, Grandpa…" She reached out to put a carefully orchestrated hand on Logan's knee, trying to ignore how firm and muscular his leg felt beneath the wool of his suit. He was probably one of those annoying people who worked out. She hoped he didn't like to talk about his workout routine and how much he could bench press. Though she could admit the results were...intriguing even if the process wasn't. Against her better judgment, she felt her fingers splay, pressing her palm further into the solid sinew of his thigh muscle, then contract to give it another squeeze. "We've actually known each other for a while now."
"Really?" Emily asked, a shrewd grin on her face. "Is that so?"
Logan put a hand around Rory's shoulder. "It is," Logan informed them. "I'm quite fond of your granddaughter."
"Well," Richard stated his chest puffing up proudly. "You'd have to be a fool not to be."
Logan laughed. "Touché."
"Lorelai," Emily turned to her daughter. "Did you know about this?"
"That Logan is fond of your granddaughter? This is the first I'm hearing about it." Emily rolled her eyes, used to her daughter's strange sense of humor.
Rory shot her mother a quick, furtive glare. While she knew her grandparents were not likely to take Lorelai's quips seriously, she still didn't like the idea of her getting so close to the truth she knew not to tell.
"We've actually been dating for about six months now and things are getting…serious," Rory started to tell the story she'd written down and memorized and practiced eight thousand times. She hated lying to her grandparents; she needed to have the details and the delivery down pat if she was to not let anything slip.
"Weren't you dating that professor not that long ago?" Emily asked.
"Brendon," Rory told them. "We weren't that serious," she lied. "And Logan and I met at a mutual friend's party over the summer. Madeline Lynn, who I went to Chilton with. Logan knows her husband from Yale." It was actually true…not the party, but the fact that Logan went to school with Madeline's husband. It had been tough finding a connection that would have put them in the same place at the same time outside of work. And saying they met at work would leave too much room for accusations of sexual harassment. So, when Paris mentioned that Madeline had married someone from Yale and Logan confirmed that they ran in the same circles, it had seemed the best option. Of course, there was always the chance Madeline and her husband could dispute the fact, but Madeline was a little spacey and she loved to throw huge parties, so she could probably be convinced that Rory and Logan actually had been to one. "Anyway, we started spending a little time together and then when Brendon moved away, things between Logan and I started to get more serious."
"Well, this is wonderful news," Emily gushed. "Why are we just hearing about it now?" Emily threw a quick pointed glare Lorelai's way as though to blame her for hiding this electrifying piece of information. Lorelai ignored her, remaining pouty and quiet.
"That would be my fault, I'm afraid," Logan took over. His fingers slid into Rory's hair and began to twirl it. It was a gesture that was just intimate enough to indicate they were a 'real' couple, but not enough to make Rory uncomfortable…he hoped. Her hair was silky and smooth, and from where he was sitting he could just catch the faintest whiff of coconut. "I thought it was best if we kept things quiet. As you know, I'm technically Rory's boss and in today's environment that's…frowned upon."
"Yes, of course," Richard concurred. "Times most certainly have changed. And as the head of a company, you need to take extra care with your public image."
"Precisely. And besides, I didn't want to risk Rory's professional image either. You know how people can jump to conclusions and I didn't want anyone thinking she didn't deserve all her success. So, we decided that it was best not to tell anyone until or unless this was going somewhere."
"So it is?" Emily asked, practically squirming in her seat with excitement. "Going somewhere?"
"That's actually what we wanted to talk to you about, Grandma. Logan and I have an announcement to make." Her heart was racing as she began to say the words. Her palms were sweating and she rubbed them against her thighs, trying to keep the gesture as ladylike as possible and not scrunch up the material of her dress. Logan must have sensed her anxiety as the fingers that were in her hair untangled themselves from her tresses and dropped to her shoulder to give it a comforting squeeze.
"Richard, Emily…" he began. "I've asked Rory to marry me, and she's said yes." Emily's eyes went wide with incredulity. She'd never in a million years imagined this night would turn out this way when the doorbell rang just a few minutes ago. Just seeing Rory arriving hand in hand with Logan had been enough to bring the first genuine smile to her face in months. The mere idea of them dating was enough to almost make her forget about all her and Richard's money problems and the fact that she was losing the home she'd lived in for over 40 years. It was almost enough to make her forget about the constant fighting with her husband whose reckless behavior with their personal funds had cost them everything. Seeing Logan Huntzberger standing at the front door with her daughter was the one bright spot in months of agony. And she could admit, her mind had wasted no time in imagining up all kinds of marvelous fantasies; of picturing a summer wedding on the Cape, and of little blonde haired, blue eyes babies. It had been magnificent. But it had only been a dream, or so she thought. She figured it would be months of hoping neither of them screwed it up before it became a reality. And yet, here she was, not 15 minutes after learning they had anything other than a professional relationship, finding out that her fantasy for the future was actually a present reality. It was too good to be true.
Logan turned his attention specifically to Rory's grandfather. "I know I should have come to you for your blessing first and I apologize, but I sincerely hope I can have it now."
"Well," Richard's face went stern. "I don't know about this, young man. All this lying and sneaking about…"
Logan didn't believe the man's reluctance, of course, but he played along. "Of course, I understand your hesitation, but I assure you…" Logan chose he words carefully. Despite the fact that this whole night had been about lies, somehow this lie…lying about the lie, was the hardest for Logan to stomach. Even if it was for Richard and Emily's own benefit. "It was never our intention to hide our relationship from you."
Richard could no longer continue his own ruse and his scowl gave way to a brilliant smile as he stood. "Oh, who am I kidding," he laughed. He looked to his granddaughter. "Rory, I trust he treats you well?"
"Very, Grandpa," she nodded enthusiastically.
"Well, then, who am I to get in the way of true love? Welcome to the family, son."
"Thank you, Sir." Logan stood to take Richard's proffered hand and the older man shook it enthusiastically.
"Well, this is wonderful news!" Emily proclaimed. "Lorelai, isn't this wonderful news?"
"It's swell, Mom." Emily huffed at her daughter's petulant response. She supposed this explained her peculiar mood all night. One would think that a mother would be thrilled to see her daughter engaged to a handsome, wealthy, successful man of good breeding. Someone who could take care of her and give her everything she ever wanted. But Lorelai always hated all those things out of pure principal. It was like she found some sort of pride in struggling just to make ends meet. Well, she wouldn't let Lorelai's mood spoil this for her. Lorelai may be a lost cause but Rory clearly was not. And Emily was going to enjoy every minute of this.
"We need to celebrate," she proclaimed, clapping her hands loudly. "We need to have a toast. Richard, we should get some champ…agne…" she trailed off as the realization hit her. They had no champagne. They could barely afford a bottle of cheap wine these days. Had Rory confided in Logan about their financial troubles? She wasn't even sure how much her granddaughter knew to begin with. What if Logan found out they had no money anymore and called off the wedding. It would be disastrous. She couldn't let that happen.
"Oh, well, umm…" Richard stuttered.
"Of course, silly me," Emily continued on with as much faux cheer as she could muster. "I'm so sorry Logan, I do believe we're all out. I don't know if Rory had mentioned it, but we're actually moving. We got an offer on the house, anonymous buyer. Probably one of those eccentric technology boys. Like what's his name…Elliot Musk?
"Elon Musk, Mom," Lorelai grumbled. "His name is Elon Musk. And the richest man in the world, a man who invented the Tesla and sends people up into space and is obsessed with all things sleek and futuristic, did not buy your gothic designed home."
"Anyway," Emily ignored her. "It was an offer we just couldn't refuse. Which means we've sadly let our stock run a little dry. We don't want to have to be transporting any more than necessary in the move."
Logan glanced down at Rory who was still on the settee. It was time for them to drop the rest of this bombshell. And he strongly suspected this revelation would not go over as well as the last one. Emily clearly caught the loaded look between them. "What?" she asked.
"Actually, Grandma…" Rory stood up to present a united front with Logan despite the fact that her heart was about to beat right out of her ribcage from the stress of it all. "There's one more thing Logan and I need to tell you."
Emily's eyes went wide and this time, not with delight like they had before. She knew there had to be a catch. This was all happening too quickly. And now the strange looks between them while talking about a toast… "Oh Rory, tell me you didn't."
"Didn't what?" she asked, genuinely confused.
"Well, never mind that now," Emily brushed it away as best as she could. What was done was done. Rory wasn't 16 like her mother had been. She was 27, a college graduate, and established in her career. And Logan was marrying her. It was less than ideal of course. There would be rumors, but she'd been through worse. "How far along are you. If we hurry we can…"
"Excuse me?!" Rory screeched.
"Emily, no!" Logan turned to Richard whose once ebullient face had turned murderous. "Richard, I promise, that's not what's going on here."
"I'm not pregnant!" Rory insisted. "I swear."
Emily's racing thoughts of damage control strategies started to calm, but she wasn't completely convinced yet. She turned to her daughter whose once sour face had turned visibly amused.
"Come on now Rory," she replied in a teasing fashion. "They're going to find out about the twins eventually."
Both Richard and Emily visibly relaxed at their daughter's words. Lorelai could make a joke out of almost anything, but if there was one thing she would absolutely not find amusing, it was Rory actually being pregnant.
"Well then," Richard asked, glowering at Lorelai and then turning his attention back to the newly engaged couple with a look of confusion. "What else was it you needed to tell us?"
Logan glanced at Rory who looked more uncomfortable than he'd ever seen her…which was saying something considering their first encounter involved her bra falling out in front of him. He looked back at Richard. "I'm the anonymous buyer who bought the house," he confessed.
AN: this chapter turned into a behemoth so I had to split it up and leave you with one of my patented cliffies. Hope you enjoy the family drama.
PS--if you didn't see it, I posted an update to "Rediscovering Interludes" from Odette's perspective. I've been wanting to write it for a while. I just love Odette in that story!