You are Cordially Invited to the
29th Annual Gilmore Holiday Fête
Saturday, December 17th
7 o'clock in the Evening
The Gilmore Residence
Festive Refreshments & Cocktails
to be served
Lorelai scanned the gilded-edged invite in her hand, with its calligraphic script and formal prose. Scowling, she shuffled the invitation she'd torn open to the back of the small stack in her hand. 3 invitations were delivered in one large single envelope, each of the intended recipients written out individually on the front folds.
This was so typical of her mother.
Lorelai had been distracted the last few days–she'd volunteered to assist with costumes for the Stars Hollow Christmas Pageant, dealt with the holiday rush and scheduling conflicts at the Inn, and made a dent in her Christmas list.
She was caught off. Lorelai hated to be caught off. Instantly she chastised herself for not putting the puzzle pieces together sooner. Of course, there was nothing more festive in the Gilmore world than a little holiday hazing.
Since moving out of her parent's house in the middle of the night as a fresh-faced teen, she'd kept her contact with their world at arm's reach. Three times per year: Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter were the only times Lorelai and Rory typically crossed city lines into Hartford. This year, she thought she may have gotten off easy–her parents had abandoned Thanksgiving plans with the girls after her father was called out of the country on business.
Luke had insisted they join him at his grandparent's house instead, and for the first time in her life, Lorelai experienced the type of family holiday that didn't end in mudslinging or uncomfortable silence. There was no dress code either, Lorelai and Rory bundled up in comfy sweaters and jeans. They lounged in the cozy family room, playing board games and tossing jokes around with the low hum of Lionel Danes's record player playing softly in the background. Luke and his grandmother had prepared the meal: a perfectly prepared turkey with all of the fixings, side dishes galore, and generous double portions of chocolate pecan pie for dessert.
Late into the evening, Luke heaved a sleeping Rory in his arms as the three briskly made a run for it from the truck into the Crapshack, a dusting of snow just starting to cling to the ground.
It was that stereotypical down-home family holiday that Lorelai only dreamed of experiencing as a young girl. The type of holiday she thought only existed in sitcoms. Secretly, she hoped that her parents would've extended their European tour, and Christmas could be a repeat of that familial coziness the girls had only gotten a taste of.
Rory rushed through the front door moments later, breaking Lorelai out of her reverie. She looked up just in time to catch her daughter's smiley face, her cheeks a sweet rosy color from the bitterness of the outside air. "Lane had to leave in time for bible study," She explained, crossing the room to take a seat on the arm of the chair Lorelai was occupying.
Rory and Lane had spent the wintery afternoon outside. They dressed their snowmen in thrift-store garb, and ran around marking the front yard with snow angels. At mid-morning, Lorelai had interrupted the girls to provide them with a Swiss-Miss break, which she had poured into holiday-themed dixie cups on her way to the mailbox.
Rory touched the filigree wreath on the invitations that sat abandoned in her mother's lap, "Are those from grandma? For her Christmas party?"
Lorelai nodded noncommittally.
Rory sunk down in the arm chair and scooted closer to her mother. She rested her head on Lorelai's shoulder and sifted through the stack, reading each of their names aloud. Her eyes shined with excitement, "We should go to Luke's and give him his invitation!"
Lorelai ran her fingers through her daughter's ponytail, gently tugging it at the end, "Someone's got rehearsal for the Christmas pageant later."
Rory folded her arms stubbornly, "I'm only a dumb spinning tree. It's a background role, anyone could do it."
"Nuh uh, without you, there is no Christmas. You my little Rudolph, put the Christmas in Christmas tree," Lorelai poked her bright red nose.
Rory giggled, "Ok how about this. I'll go to rehearsal, and then we stop by the diner for dessert." She picked up the envelope with Luke printed in elegant script and dangled it in front of her mother, "And to make a special delivery."
XXXXXX
Hours later, Lorelai sat on the dusty floor of Miss Patty's Dance Studio, she wore a smirk as she watched Taylor and Miss Patty attempt to direct the girls and boys of Stars Hollow in a clumsy musical number. A pile of red and green fabric, jingle bells, and tinsel sat next to her. She was silently regretting her decision to volunteer as Taylor shouted out a flurry of wardrobe notes to poor Kirk, who obediently scribbled them down on a clipboard and rushed them back over to Lorelai.
She sighed, and shoved the excess fabric into her overstuffed handbag, her fingers brushing the invitation Rory had made sure to tuck away before the girls drove over to the center of town. The rehearsal dragged on another half hour, at which Miss Patty instructed Rory to spin–and spin again, in the center of the makeshift stage to make sure she got her turns just right. Her poor daughter with her two left feet meant well, but was less than stellar at her silent starring role. At least she looked pretty, Lorelai thought.
When the crowd finally dispersed, Rory stalked over to her mother wearing a matching exhausted expression. She didn't have to ask again for something sweet–it was an unspoken agreement between the girls as they quickly gathered their things and huddled together as they marched towards the diner in search for a pick-me-up.
XXXXXX
Lorelai and Rory all but collapsed on side-by-side stools in the diner.
Rory rested her tired head on the heel of her hand and stifled a yawn, while Lorelai simply blurted out their order to Luke as he danced around the diner dropping off plates and refilling coffee from the rest of the post-rehearsal rush.
"Keep your pants on," he grumbled as a napkin folded into something loosely resembling a paper airplane sailed past his shoulder. He didn't have to ask if it came from Lorelai's direction. She shot him a teasing grin and opened her mouth to respond, but Luke simply grabbed a large mug from behind the counter and quickly filled it to the brim with coffee, sliding it in front of her enticingly. She took a greedy sip and moaned, her mood already improving by the second.
Luke slid two slices of hot boysenberry pie in front of them next, and the girls' smiles only grew as they attacked their plates with gusto. While he finished busing tables and cashing out the dwindling guests, Rory rooted through Lorelai's cavernous handbag with only the lightest of admonishments from her mother. She pulled out a couple shades of sparkly lip gloss, a baggie of crushed cookies, and some loose buttons before finding what she was looking for, holding it up over her head in victory. Lorelai eagerly swiped her lips with a tube of sparkly red lip gloss she had long forgotten about, and inspected the baggie that Rory threw aside with a weary eye.
"Those are a health hazard."
Affronted, Lorelai looked up at Luke's teasing grin from the other side of the counter, "They're not old! You think cookies last longer than three days in my house?"
Rory picked up the baggie from the counter and squinted, "Were those Nutter Butter's?"
"Uh huh!" Lorelai looked on proudly, "My genes are strong in this one," She jerked a finger towards her daughter.
"Tell me about it," Luke mumbled in agreement. He took his rag and dragged it across the counter while silently listening to the girls' chatter. Lost in his own world, the lilt of Rory's voice calling his name had him pausing mid-swipe and looking over at the young girl.
She pushed something fancy across the clean counter with his name written across the front. Luke picked it up, examining the thick paper with curiosity and opened the flap, quickly scanning the contents. Rory's eyes lit up with excitement, using her rapid-fire vocabulary, she quickly explained the over-the-top decor and delectable treats that went on at this sort of thing.
"You'll come with us, won't you?"
Luke glanced at Lorelai, once again noticing her uncharacteristically quiet demeanor, her lips drawn in a tight line and hands folded in her lap. After taking a much needed breath, Rory looked at him expectantly. Luke opened his mouth to respond, but Lorelai jumped in all at once, "Once again we've shut down the diner Sweets. Hey, you want to help Luke fill up the salt shakers while he and I talk upstairs for a second?"
Rory pulled a face, "You're not gonna kiss are you?"
Lorelai puckered her lips and made pointed kissing noises her daughter's way, "Oh, you mean like this?"
Luke turned a delightful shade of red and spun around, lifting up the industrial sized carton of salt he kept under the counter with a grunt. He grabbed a funnel and a scoop, and set those down next to it too.
"A dollar a shaker," Luke reminded Rory with a waggle of his finger. He met Lorelai at the end of the counter and she grasped his hand, lacing his fingers through hers.
Rory let out a yelp of excitement and immediately got down from her stool, ready to get to work.
"You spoil her," Lorelai murmured, "Last week it was 50 cents."
"Inflation," Luke said with a shrug. Lorelai led him through the curtain and up the stairs with his hand held at the small of her back. Leaving his door ajar, she pulled him over to his leather sofa and pulled him down to sit next to her with a long drawn out sigh.
Luke broke the silence first, "Do you not want me to come to your parents' thing?"
Lorelai looked at him like he had three heads. "Are you really asking me that?"
"Well you were all quiet down there. It was either that, or the pie went bad."
"Pie…bad? Never string those two words together ever again Mister. You hear me?"
"Lorelai," He smoothed a loose curl away from her face and cradled her cheek, "Talk to me."
She leaned into his touch and murmured, "Famous last words." She took a deep breath, "I...was a little freaked."
His expression remained stoic but his eyes turned stormy. He fought every urge to pipe up and interrupt her, but she beat him to it.
"It was the 1-2 punch of Rory's secret phone calls with my mother and our relationship suddenly being outed. On top of all the other crap I have going on right now at the Inn, those stupid invitations showed up in my mailbox today. And tonight, Taylor had all of these insane wardrobe requests for the pageant. He wants me to figure out how to add Christmas lights onto Rory's costume!" Lorelai groaned, "It's not that I don't want you there Luke. I want you with me everywhere."
He smirked, "Dirty."
She giggled and rolled her eyes, "I'm corrupting you."
"And by the way, I'll help you rig Rory's costume."
She softened, "I just want you to myself, here, in our little town. I ran away from their world 8 years ago, and every time I go back, even for a few hours, I'm reminded why I packed a bag in the middle of the night. I don't want them to ruin what we have. They have a history of that."
Luke grew serious, "Parents come with the territory. I can handle my own Lorelai, and so can you. You can do anything." Her cheeks flushed crimson at his comment in embarrassment. She broke his steady gaze and fixated on the flannel pattern of his shirt instead.
In all honestly, attending a party of any kind–especially a holiday party at his girlfriend's parents house wasn't exactly on the top of his Christmas list. He loathed parties. The forced small talk, balancing watered down drinks and chasing down appetizers on sticks. The rooms were always either stuffy or freezing cold. He probably had to wear a suit too. He hoped the charcoal grey one buried in the back of his closet still fit. He made a mental note to pick up a new tie. By the looks of the fancy invite–this was definitely a tie evening.
"Just...wear something red," He said, leaning in to capture those ruby red lips.
XXXXXX
That was how Luke Danes found himself a fish out of water, flicking through racks of silk ties and rustling through neat piles of collared shirts the very next afternoon. With an unending soundtrack of inane holiday music piped through the fancy men's store, he moved from one table to the next, holding up one multi-colored silk option after the next, so far out of his comfort zone he had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't trapped in a nightmare.
A pair of heels loudly clicked against the marble floor as a sales associate approached. Showing off a pair of pearly whites and a slim black uniform that hugged her hourglass figure, she gestured to the dark navy suit on a mannequin that he was inspecting, "A man with taste–the Brioni fits like a glove."
Luke jerked his hand away like he'd touched fire.
"I'm Jasmine," She offered him a polite smile, "Are you interested in trying it on?"
"Luke," He nodded curtly in greeting, "Uh," He smoothed his hand over the bill of his backwards baseball cap, "I need the whole thing–suit, shirt, shoes…socks," He listed off.
She eyed him up and down appreciatively, "We can get you fitted in the store today and you can walk away with everything but the suit. That, you can pick up from alterations on Friday."
Luke looked down at his beaten up jeans and scuffed boots before meeting her green gaze with a quick nod, "That'll work."
After peppering him with a few more questions, Jasmine led him to a dressing room fitted with a three-way mirror that was practically the size of his tiny apartment. With a glance over his shoulder at the closed door, he eyed the selections she had placed in the room with apprehension. He passed over a brown checkered option immediately, chuckling to himself how closely it resembled his daily flannel uniform, and grabbed the deep navy wool jacket and pants he'd been initially drawn to.
Wearing a long tape measure around her neck, Jasmine dusted his shoulders off from behind him, "Have you ever thought about modeling?" She gestured for Luke to turn around on the platform.
He gave her a glare through the mirror. She chuckled softly, "It's not that often that a man walks in here and requires virtually no major alterations."
Luke had to admit, the suit looked good, damn good. Dark navy with a snowy white collared shirt underneath paired with a deep burgundy and blue silk tie. Jasmine had selected a pair of classic black Berluti's to go with the ensemble–whatever those were, and a coordinating belt to boot.
She tugged at the hem of his suit jacket, "So, you're all set. We'll have this pressed and ready for you on Friday. You must be gearing up for the holiday party circuit, hm?"
Luke stepped off the platform, "Just one."
Jasmine reared back, "One?"
He nodded, "Meeting my girlfriend's parents. They're uh, throwing a party."
"That's a shame," She murmured under her breath, flicking a lock of auburn hair over her shoulder as she exited the room with the discarded options.
Luke stalked out of the store with his credit card practically burning a hole through his wallet. His receipt, stapled to the back of Jasmine's business card had been shoved into the depths of his pocket at once. Uncharacteristically, he hadn't bothered to check any price tags while he was trying things on. Truth be told, a stroke of vanity had hit him as soon as he turned around in the mirror, just picturing Lorelai's shocked expression when she'd see him in something other than grease-splattered flannel.
That look, would be priceless.
Carrying two heavy shopping bags in each hand, he figured he'd take one quick lap around the mall to scope out some gifts. While his grandparents never asked for anything, he'd heard a Williams-Sonoma had opened up and knew that his grandmother wouldn't scoff at something shiny and new for her kitchen.
He was stumped on what to get the girls. Rory had written a list for Santa a couple weeks ago and slipped it into the mailbox, which Lorelai quickly intercepted later that evening. He supposed he could ask her for guidance, but thought he'd at least take a stab at finding her something she'd like before asking for help.
And then there was Lorelai.
Luke glanced to his left, a Victoria's Secret window greeted him with a sexy holiday display of fur-edged chemises and jewel-toned lacy panty sets.
He didn't quite have the courage to go in there. Yet.
Moving briskly through the thick crowd with annoyance, he finally stumbled upon the Williams-Sonoma, and promptly had a cast-iron dutch oven, some pot holders, and a shiny new Chef's knife gift wrapped and ready to go under the tree.
With another heavy shopping bag gripped in his hand, he decided he'd had enough for one day and walked with purpose towards the entrance where he'd parked the truck.
That is, until one more shop window, lit up in Tiffany blue caught his eye.
XXXXXX
The rest of the week passed by caffeine-fueled haze for Lorelai.
A front desk clerk and a maid quit in rapid succession at the Inn. As a result, she was working 12 hour days, putting out one fire after the next. The only reprieve she had was coming home every one of those evenings with a warm plate of food wrapped in foil waiting for her, prepared by her pretty, pretty boyfriend. With Rory on winter break from school, he entertained her by taking her down to the frozen over pond for ice skating, prepared his mother's recipe for hot cocoa on the stovetop, and browsed the bookstore accompanied by Luke's grandfather. He passed the time flipping through a fishing magazine while the two literary enthusiasts got lost in the stacks.
Luke had swooped in to save Lorelai on more than one occasion in the past; but with actions like these, he was only continuing to prove just how indispensable he was to her everyday existence.
By Thursday, she'd finally secured some seasonal help that had her workdays cut back to regularly scheduled programming. She came home that evening to Luke sitting on her couch, a sewing needle between his teeth with Rory's Christmas tree costume in his lap.
Lorelai dumped her handbag on the hall table and kicked off her heels to join him in the living room, "Well, aren't you just a vision of domesticity," She said with a southern drawl.
He removed the sewing needle and stuck it in a pin cushion on the coffee table. In silent response, he held up the costume, opened a small flap pocket he'd sewn onto the back, and flicked a switch.
In an instant, the dark green tree-shaped garment lit up the room. Somehow he'd rigged multicolored lights in a spiral pattern around her costume.
Lorelai could not believe her eyes.
"You're like Santa, but hotter," She declared, taking a seat in his lap and peppering his face over and over with tiny kisses.
XXXXXX
On Friday morning, Lorelai woke up wrapped in only a sheet with an unabashed smile on her lips. The quilt was kicked to the foot of the bed, and her limbs ached in the most delicious way from the night before. She swept her hand over the cool empty sheet next to her, and only frowned when she realized Luke had already made his early morning trek to the diner.
She had the next two days off, and quickly got herself out of bed and into the shower to start her day of self-care. Luke said he had some errands to run that day, and was going to pick up some slack around the diner that evening, so she wouldn't see him until he picked the girls up to ride to Hartford the next evening.
Self-care wasn't the only thing Lorelai had been neglecting the past few days either, her bedroom looked like a hurricane had run through it. Discarded clothes missed the hamper and shoes spilled out of her closet with hangers askew. She threw on a long-sleeve t-shirt and jeans and got to work tidying things up.
She didn't quite realize how much of Luke's stuff had migrated over either. The man didn't own nearly the amount of clothes she did, but she still amassed quite the selection of soft flannel. She picked up a tangled mass of denim that also belonged to him, and shook them out to straighten them. A bulky folded receipt flung out of the front pocket and onto the floor, and she picked it up to place on top of the dresser to return to him later. Curiosity got the best of her when it unfolded itself and revealed a feminine scrawl in red ink, a series of numbers with a smiley face at the end.
She flipped the card over and quickly scanned the woman's name and information with a scowl.
Jasmine Monique, what kind of name even is that?
Abandoning the rest of the laundry, Lorelai shoved the stapled receipt in her back pocket and stalked down the staircase on a mission. The innocent sight of her daughter watching cartoons in the living room had her face softening only slightly.
Rory smiled at her mother and waggled her bare fingernails, "Good, you're up! We're going to be late!" She got herself up off the floor and tossed the cushion back onto the couch that she'd pilfered.
In her flash of red-hot anger, Lorelai had almost forgotten the about the appointment she'd made at the beauty salon. A once-yearly treat to both herself and her daughter, a day of pampering was just the type of relaxation she needed before an evening spent with her parents and the world she'd left behind.
"I think I want blue polish," She shrugged into her puffy winter jacket and wrapped a wooly scarf around her neck, "With sparkles!" She bounced on her heels in excitement, "Do you think that will look good with my dress?"
Lorelai mustered up a grin, "Maybe they can paint a snowflake on your thumb!"
She couldn't disappoint her daughter now. Her confrontation with Luke would just have to wait.
