Chapter Two: Luke
Lorelai was down at the front of the church between Rory and her mom. They were crowded in with people I didn't recognize. The casket loomed in front of them – closed, thank god.
I watched Lorelai's sleek, dark head stare straight ahead the entire service, but I knew she wasn't paying attention. One at a time, the two women beside her broke down. First her mom, then Rory. Lorelai put an arm around each of them in turn. Mrs. Gilmore turned it off fast; some women are like that around their kids. But Rory sank into her mother's shoulder, too young to care about a stiff upper lip.
I felt bad for the kid. With her dad only there when he felt like it, Rory's grandfather had been the best male influence in her life. You come to rely on a thing like that.
Afterward, they both hugged me. Rory was like a wet noodle in my arms. I wished I could tell her something – anything – to let her know that she wouldn't feel this way forever.
"Hang in there, honey," was the best I had. She smiled a little and thanked me.
Lorelai was the opposite, every muscle tensed and ready to strike. When I asked her how she was, she gave me a stock answer to my stock (dammit) question.
"Are you coming to my parents' house for lunch?" she asked. "My mother -- or, more like, my mother's chef -- made enough to feed a couple of pro-football teams. 'Feed a grief,' I guess."
"Uh, I'm not sure. I have to check back at the diner first."
"Worried Jess will burn it down?"
"Well, he does have that special talent at destruction," I said sarcastically, which got her to smile.
"Well," she said. "We'll be home by seven."
"'Kay."
"See ya later, then. I have to go get my place in the orange flag parade."
I hugged her again. She held on longer than an average hug, and then she was gone, off to thank another supporter.
I didn't go to the burial or her mother's house. I'd check up on her later.
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