Rory woke up to quietness, which was unusual in her mother's house. So unusual she that she momentarily toyed with the idea that perhaps it had all been a dream and that she was actually in her house in Kent and her grandparents would be down stairs, with Grandmamma yelling at the staff and Grandpapa reading his newspaper. Unfortunately the size of her room as she looked around quickly dismissed that pleasant notion.
She crept down the stairs, eyeing the house suspiciously. This was weird. Like creepy, weird. As weird as the town itself.
"Jess?" No answer. "Luke?" She was met with silence. "Mother?" Nothing. Hell, what were her siblings names again? "Ramsay?"
"Hullo Rory," She was greeted by the said imp running out of the kitchen.
"Where is everyone?"
"Jess and dad went to the diner to work," He answered matter of factly. "Mom's at the Inn."
A moment later his sister, Keely, came in with a piece of paper in her hand and handed it to Rory. "She left this for you."
Rory took and read it quickly. Her face paled. "No way in hell am I doing that."
"Don't swear," admonish Ramsay.
"Hell is not a swear word," Keely pointed out.
"Who cares?"
Rory announced. "I have to baby sit you two all day!"
"So?"
"I grew up as an only child," She explained. "I know nothing about kids. Not one thing. I tend to stay away from them."
"Are you accusing us of having jam hands?" Ramsay asked. "Because, Dad's made sure that there is no jam in the house."
"What?" Was all that she could think of to say.
"Dad has a
theory." Keely, clearly the more logical of the two, explained. "That no matter
what kids will end up with jam on their hands. So he goes out of his way to
ensure that there is no jam for us to get on our hands."
"I need coffee," Rory groaned, stomping into the kitchen. She stopped when she saw the empty coffee pot. "There is no coffee made in this house?"
"Mom said she'd just pick one up at the diner," Ramsay filled in.
"But I don't know how to make coffee!"
Keely and Ramsay gasped, because such a thing was unheard of in the Danes house.
"But you're a Gilmore!" Cried Ramsay.
"Mom's your mother!" Keely pointed out, okay maybe more logical but maybe not all together that smart.
Rory crossed
her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. "I know that. But I use to have
people to cook the coffee."
"Brew. You brew coffee. I don't think you cook it."
She glared at her half-sister. "Whatever. Do either of you know how to brew coffee?"
They both shook their heads and Ramsay spoke up. "We're not allowed to touch…Brendan."
"Brendan?"
Keely nodded. "Mom's Mr. Coffee. She fell in love with Brendan Fehr on Roswell and named it after him."
"You all belong in a nuthouse," she muttered under her breath. "Okay. I can do this. I just need to call someone."
"You shouldn't call the diner," Ramsay warned. "It's busy this time of day."
Rory took a deep breath to calm herself before grabbing the portable phone and dialing a number.
"Tristan DuGrey."
"Do you know how to brew coffee?"
"Hayden?" Tristan sounded slightly confused. "It's seven in the morning and a Saturday."
"Yes, I know and duh," Rory retorted. "Do. You. Know. How. To. Brew. Coffee?"
"You're very cranky in the morning when you've been deprived of coffee," Tristan mused half-teasingly. "Now I just have to wonder if you're even more beautiful."
She scowled. "Flattery will get you nowhere until I have coffee."
He chuckled. "I don't know how to cook coffee. Raphael usually does it for me."
Rory gritted her teeth. "Brew. You don't cook coffee- you brew it. God, what are you useful for?"
"Sex and
music."
"Both of which I could easily get from someone else. Anything else?"
There was a pause on the other end. "Because I'll go ask Raphael how to co-brew coffee?"
"Good Tristan," She told him. "I've trained you well."
"Well it's either that or listen to a coffee-depraved woman. Neither rather appealing right now."
*
Rory sat back in the couch, letting the aroma of the coffee waft up into her being. Ah yes, she'd have to thank Raphael next time she went to the DuGrey's. She had taken a few sips of the delicious drink when the phone rang.
"Hello, Rory Hayden speaking," She answered.
"Hey Rory Hayden," came the familiar voice.
"Daddy!" She exclaimed, setting aside her coffee where it would stand forgotten. "I was wondering when you were going to call."
"Well news travels sort of slow around here, and I thought I'd let you settle in at Mom's," Christopher replied. "How's Chilton?"
"Like my last school but without the cute British accents," She informed him.
Chris laughed, "And home life?"
Rory shrugged, forgetting for a moment that he couldn't see her. "It's okay I guess. A little weird since the house is full of people that aren't servants."
"You'll get use to it," he reminded her. "And if you ever need a break, you still have your room here to use during vacations."
"Thanks Dad,"
She said, smiling softly. "I think I may take you up on that offer soon."
"So what're
your plans for this Saturday?"
"Baby-sitting," Rory replied. "Apparently. I got up and there was this note left from Lorelai asking, telling me to look after my half-siblings."
"Just remember they're like people. Just smaller."
"Don't get me started on the siblings part, I just figured out that you don't cook coffee."
"You brew it," Christopher told her automatically. "Yes well, I have to go. But I'll call you next week?"
"Sounds good," She agreed. "Love you Dad."
"Love you too." This was followed by the dial tone.
Sighing, Rory hung up the phone and picked up her lukewarm coffee and took a sip.
Maybe life here would be bearable, after all.