A/N: Greetins. Business first. If you have a problem with people having unrealistically large amounts of kids, then stop reading here and now. Because it is in this chap for the first time that it shows that we are taking advantage of the fact that this is FANFICTION and making everybody have lots and lots of kids. Okay, now we're back to our usual funniness. Of all of the things that couldn't get stranger, Celia will get/got her Christmas present like in JUNE. Did you know that July was named for Julius Caesar and August was named for Augustus? So Celia would have been born in September and Margaret would have been born in December!!!!!!!! However, it being 20,030,030, no wait its 1881. No. What year is it!!!!!! AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! *You've got Mail* wait. We just got an E-Mail from our brains in Machu Pichu. Its 2002!!!!!!!!!!!! Now. If you'll leave us be, we can tell ya the story of…of….of…of…of oh… who you were just reading about.)
Chapter 20: Letters and Other Stuff…..but Mainly Letters
"Sure, you can take Chris for dinner. -------------and the weekend---------NO. not the year, Sookie. He IS my son. Not yours. No. oh. Stop telling me that you fed Rory and me. I'm hanging up."
"HI MOM. WHERE ARE YOU? OR ARE YOU JUST BEING SILENT" Rory called.
"I'm brewing the mix of heaven."
"Mom. Guess what. Taylor is opening a coffee shop."
"WHAT?!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
"Yeah. I stopped in this morning to check Luke's competition. The coffee sucks."
"Lord help us. I think that we should run up to Taylor with plastic bags on our heads and ---and--- and well. Break down all his shops!"
"That would not involve running up to him with plastic bags on our heads."
"No. But it would be fun to take the keys to his apartment. Or all his shops"
"The shop is right next to Luke's. We can offer to buy it and then, make an extension to Luke's."
"Grand I idea, If I do say so myself."
"Thanks."
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"So Chris won't be at Thanksgiving dinner?" Tristan asked Rory.
"Nope, mom gave him to Sookie for the weekend. She wanted him for the year, but mom wouldn't let her." Rory replied.
"I see. Who else will there?"
"The Charleston's,"
"WHAT?"
"Don't ask. Dad and Sherry, (don't ask) Mom, Luke, me and you."
"Ah."
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BING-BONG---------------------------------------------------------------------
"Hello. Come in. Let me take your coats. Who shall I announce?" The maid said.
"We can just go in." Rory suggested.
"Not without an announcing," the maid said, stubbornly.
"Just say that Rory and Tristan are here," Tristan said. The maid looked at them oddly and walked into the living room.
"Mr. and Mrs. DuGrey are here."
"Rory, Tristan, how good to see you!" Emily said.
"Hi grandma. Are we the first ones here?"
"No. Your father and his wife got here three hours ago with their kids."
"Kids? Plural?"
"Yes." Chris walked into the room. He hugged Rory.
"So," said Rory, "I hear you and Sherry have got kids. Kids PLURAL."
"Indeed." Chris blew a whistle. A flood of kids came rushing into the room. "Meet, in no particular order, Harry, Eliza, Ricky, Andrea, Vanessa, Lindsay, Jason, Jonathan, Emily, Kimberly, George, and Travis."
"WOAH," said Rory. That was all she could manage.
"Eliza, Andrea, and Lindsay are triplets, age five. Harry, Ricky, Jonathan, and George are quads, age four. And Vanessa, Jason, Emily, Kimberly, and Travis are quints, age two."
"Well, Dad, you've certainly got your hands full."
"That's for sure."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Mr. DuGrey, I have a slight bone to pick with you," said Hanlon Charleston at the dinner table.
"Which would be what, Mr. Charleston?" asked Tristan.
"You were one of the best students at Chilton. You could have graduated with honors easily. And yet you chose to toss that all away and rob a safe."
"Mr. Charleston, I was young, I didn't know any better, my parents were hardly ever home, and there was really no one to teach me right from wrong."
"Well, Mr. DuGrey, you should have been able to teach yourself."
"Rory," said Tristan, "could I see you in the kitchen for a moment?" Rory looked at Emily for permission. Emily nodded, and the two left.
When they were in the kitchen, Tristan looked at Rory very solemnly. "Now Rory," he said, "you know I applied to law school for next year, and only to the Ivy League schools. I know it's early to have heard back, but Harvard has accepted me. It's a really great opportunity, but it would mean moving to Boston."
"Oh, Tristan, I don't know. I mean we'll have a brand new baby, and I'd hate to leave my mom, and Luke, and Chris and the twins-to-be, and Maria, and Jess, and my grandparents, and Dean and Sandra, and Emma, and Janie, and Lane and….."
"Rory, I know. The one plus would be we'd be able to see your dad and Sherry, and Eliza, Andrea, Lindsay, George, Jonathan, Harry, Ricky, Vanessa, Emily, Kimberly, Jason and Travis."
"WOW. You remembered ALL of their names?"
"Umm, yeah, it was kind of unintentional. Anyway, what do you think?"
"I don't know, I really need some time to consider it, maybe you'll hear from
other schools and we'll have some choice."
"Yeah."
~^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^~
Later that evening (it had been a midday dinner) Rory was at her apartment. She and Tristan were having Maria and Jess and Dean and Sandra and Lane and Henry over for dinner, and Tristan was at the store, allowing Rory to rest. All of a sudden, the doorbell rang.
Rory went to the door and opened it. There stood Maria. There were tears in her eyes, and she looked as if she'd swallowed an apple whole (A/N: THIS IS LIKE OUR OFFICIAL TRADEMARK NOW).
"Maria?" asked Rory. "Are you okay?"
"Kyrie," whispered Maria. She handed Rory the piece of paper that was in her hand. It was a business-like letter. Rory read the text. It read:
Dear Ms. Sassani,
I am writing to you on behalf of the late Mr. Jonathan E. Greene, regarding the subject of the custody of his daughter, Kyrie Eleison Sassani. Mr. Greene was killed in an automobile accident just under a week ago, and it was clearly stated in his will that the aforesaid child should be sent to live with her mother if anything should happen to him.
I am to understand that you, Ms. Sassani, have had no contact with the young lady since her birth six years ago. However, it is now necessary not only for you to resume contact with your daughter, but to allow her to come and reside with you. The girl is currently residing in Augusta, Maine. Please let me know as soon as possible whether you are able to take the girl, and if so, I will bring her to you myself before December 25, 2007.
Sincerely,
Carl F. Davis,
Attorney-at-Law
"You have a daughter?" asked Rory. She was astounded.
"Y-yes," stammered Maria. "She was born when I was sixteen. Jon, my boyfriend, was twenty-three, already out of college. He had the time and money to keep her, I didn't. So he kept her, and I never saw her again. After she was born, I went back to school to catch up. I went to college, and now I'm a teacher. And Jon's dead. And I'm going to have to be a mother. Rory, I'm not ready!"
Maria began to cry. Rory just gave her a friendly hug. "Maria, I'm scared too," she said. "I sometimes worry that I'm not ready to be a mother. We'll be taking the step together. I'll always be there for you, and I know you'll be there for me. And, just think how much easier it is to have a six-year-old than to have a newborn. You already teach kindergarteners, she's a first grader. You're great with the kids at school, and she's no different, just she'll be with you 24 hours a day, seven days a week."
"I know, and thank you so much," said Maria. "But this is what really got me." She handed Rory another piece of paper. It was also a letter.
My Dear Maria,
I write this as I lie in a bed in the hospital because I know that I may well die, and I want you to have an explanation of everything. I want our daughter to live with you because I remember you six years ago, and I think you're ready to be a mother.
Our daughter's name is Kyrie Eleison Sassani. When you left, I made your last name hers in your honor. Her first and middle name were also in your honor. Kyrie Eleison are lyrics from that beautiful song that you used to sing to me. You have a beautiful voice, Maria. Whenever I say Kyrie's name, I think of that song, and then of you. I know she will be happy with you, Maria. I know you will be happy with her.
Good Luck,
Jon
Rory looked at Maria. She was choked up. "So," spoke up Rory, "you're going to let her come, aren't you?"
"Of course, Rory, she's my daughter." I'm going to call Mr. Davis right now.
BEEP BINK BOOP BEEP BEEP BOP BINK BOOP BEEP BOP
"Carl F. Davis, attorney-at-law," said the voice.
"H-hello? This is Maria Sassani," said Maria.
"Ah, hello," replied the lawyer.
"I'm prepared to take my daughter in, when can you bring her to me?"
"Ah very good, Ms. Sassani, I'll have her here two weeks from tomorrow."
"Thank you, good bye." Maria hung up.
"What'd he say?" asked Rory.
"She's coming," said Maria quietly. "Kyrie's coming home."
K. THAT WAS ARGUABLY THE MOST DRAMATIC CHAP WE HAVE EVER WRITTEN. BUT IT SURE WAS JAM-PACKED WITH PLOT. WE HOPE THIS MEANS MORE REVIEWS (HINT, HINT….) BYE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!