Author's Note: Umm, hey again. I've got some writers block, and I wrote
this like way long ago, like a very long time. So, I don't really know
what to say about it, except that I feel like posting something, and my
other chapter for the Just Roomies Sequel is kind of sucky, so I'm
rewriting it. But umm, enjoy. Oooh, and Lauren Graham gets all the
credit, for the getting a job at the New York Times thing. Well,
originally it was Yale, but I switched it. Anyhow, please, do me a huge
favor and read on. Thanks.
"Gilmore, since Marge is sick, you're being appointed to cover her column," Rory Gilmore's editors voice snapped her out of her daydream. The entire staff of the New York Times was sitting in a conference room on a dreary Monday morning.
Marge Waterman was the woman who normally did the social column for the paper. The job entailed highlighting the important weddings of important people, and monthly articles on 'how to get a wealthy guy for you.' It was time for the article on how to get a guy when Mr. Beck ordered Rory to take over the column since Marge was on her honeymoon.
"But," Before Rory could go any further she was cut off by her editor's voice once again assigning an assignment to an unsuspecting journalist. She laid her head down on the table frustrated. 'How can I do this article? I write for the World News section,' her mind questioned as the meeting wrapped up.
"I see you got Marge's article for the week," Liz Peterson patted her friend's shoulder after the meeting was adjourned. "I feel sorry for you, but I think Beck gave it to you because your writing is threatening Jack's writing." She laughed, as Jack was the senior staff writer on the Times.
Rory rolled her eyes and walked out of the room with Liz. "Oh yeah, I'm sure that's why." She thought for a moment. "How am I supposed to write an article on how to get a wealthy guy? I don't even know any, I don't think."
"You could write an article on how to get 25 to life for killing a fellow journalist because they're on their honeymoon and you got stuck with their column."
"Oh, I'm sure I could write that one from trial." Rory giggled. "Can you picture me in an orange jumpsuit with handcuffs on trying to catch the details of my own trial? I don't think so." She smiled and sat down at her desk near a big picture window on the third floor.
Liz pointed to the park across the street. "Remember Piccadilly Circus?"
Rory smiled, remembering the fond memory. Two years ago, she and Liz had been foreign correspondents for the Times reporting on the Queen's birthday and big blowout of a party, or 'ball.' The day before the ball, Rory and Liz had gone to Piccadilly Circus and mocked people in their mini cars for hours because they had nowhere to go until the ball.
"I can't believe I ever came back here." She shrugged. "I guess my mom didn't help much either." The day of the Piccadilly Circus outing Lorelai had called Rory's cell phone twenty times and had actual conversations with the voicemail.
"Homesick?" Rory reluctantly nodded, she hadn't been home since Christmas four months ago. "Why don't you see if you can go home to do the article? I mean, Hartford isn't that far from Stars Hollow and there were some hot rich guys if I remember correctly."
"That is true." The twenty four year old Rory responded. Liz had been her best friend since their third year in college together and had gone to visit Stars Hollow a couple times. Of course, the New York City native had thought the town was too small and they had spent most of the time in Hartford. "Maybe I will ask Mr. Beck."
"Ask me what?" Mr. Beck asked, as he walked past the two women chatting. The man was older, gray hair with aging, alert eyes, and he worked day and night for the Times. He noticed Rory was looking out the window almost wistfully. "You okay Gilmore?"
Rory looked up and nodded. "Yeah, I'm just sort of homesick." There were some bags under her eyes, caused from one too many nights staying up until three doing research and writing for her last article on the governments of foreign countries and how it related to the family conditions.
Mr. Beck wasn't the usual boss. The usual boss would breath down your neck as you wrote your article for the Times and then made you re-write it until it was perfect. Beck, as he was known as around the staff, was the total opposite. He believed in his reporters and gave them space to write their stuff. When the articles were turned in, he casually pointed out mistakes here and there, but never made someone re-write things.
Since he wasn't the usual boss, Beck saw the bags under her eyes and grew protective. "Why don't you go home for the week? You can do the article there and get some rest, please. I saw you here a couple nights at two am doing research." He paused. "Don't do that a lot, you'll end up like me." He smiled. From Rory's resume and what he heard about one of his youngest writers, he knew the woman was from a small town in Connecticut and worked her butt off to get where she was. She deserved a break once in a while. The last assignment she had drained a lot out of her, which was one of the reasons he assigned the column to her.
"Are you sure?" Rory immediately asked. "Because I could always stay here and do it, it's not that big of a deal." She looked around.
Beck nodded. "You're going home, in fact, get your things and leave for the day so you can get a head start on that week off." He smiled an old, wise smile and was off.
"Well aren't you the boss' favorite?" Liz leaned forward eagerly after he was out of sight. Of course she was joking, but she also knew that everyone looked after Rory. She brought a breath of fresh air into the stuffy building, and no one wanted her "corrupted" by the big city.
"Shut up, no I'm not." Rory couldn't help but smile as she gathered her things so she could get home to Stars Hollow as fast as she could.
It was around noon when Rory called her mom from the road. "Hey Mom, what's up?"
"Nothing much, I'm just sitting here, waiting for a piano to fall on Michel's head."
"I don't think that'll happen soon."
"Yeah, it will." Lorelai was adamant. "We're getting a piano for the lobby and there are a bunch of guys here carrying it in, and I assigned Michel to direct them."
Rory was about to respond when she heard an angry French voice in the background screaming. As Lorelai explained later on, one of the moving guys didn't have a good enough grip on the piano and it slipped a bit, causing the leg to hit Michel on the head. "Poor guy," Rory sympathized as she pulled into the parking lot at the Inn. "Hey Mom, what are you doing right about now?"
"Well, I'm watching Michel ice his head, which really isn't working, why?"
Rory was at the front door and walked up to the desk, where her mother was standing with her back towards her. "Cause I was wondering if you would like to have some lunch," Rory continued, turning off her cell phone.
"Rory!" Lorelai whipped around and ran to hug her daughter. "It's been forever."
"It's been four months," Michel cut in, groaning from his spot, sitting behind the desk.
"So what, Michel," Rory countered. She never really talked to him much, only when she called the Inn to talk to her mom. "I brought something for you, but I guess you don't get it now."
"Well, four months is a long time, I guess." Michel slowly perked up at the thought of a gift. "What did you get me?"
Rory opened up her bag and pulled out a loaf of French bread and a beret with a logo of a famous French restaurant in New York City. "Ooh, goody, a new beret." Michel's face lit up. Rory looked over at her mom cautiously, never figuring out if he was faking happiness, or he was that easily entertained.
"Why aren't you in the city?" Sookie was surprised as she walked out into the lobby and saw Rory.
"Well hey Sookie, it's nice to see you, too." Rory smiled, but explained anyways. It took a couple minutes to explain, but when she finished, Lorelai demanded that Rory go home and take a nap so she could be awake in time to go to Luke's for dinner.
Rory laughed at her mom's orders. If only Lorelai lived in the city so she could do that all the times that she was up until the wee hours doing research and writing. "Okay, okay. I'm going." She walked out to her Ford Escape and drove off towards the small town she grew up in.
When Rory pulled into the driveway of her old house, she sighed. She hadn't been here since Christmas and missed it very much. She had gotten used to the big city, because she found herself living at a faster pace than other Stars Hollow natives on her last trip. The house was so big, unlike her New York studio apartment. And unlike the apartment, it was filled with personal touches everywhere and there was a certain aura about it. Cheesy in a way, but it was true. Who could resist a monkey lamp? The apartment had pictures, and certain items from home, but that was about it.
"Home sweet, home." Rory muttered as she walked into her old room, which still had Yale apparel on the wall. She let herself fall onto her bed and slowly drifted off to sleep re-memorizing every nook and cranny of her room.
When Lorelai waltzed into her house later that day, and I mean actually waltzed, she found Rory up and about, drinking coffee. "What took you so long?" Rory asked immediately.
"Well, for one, I had to get angry customers from killing Michel just as I was about to leave. Lord knows I almost wanted to leave him to the angry people, but I couldn't."
"What happened?" Rory got off of the couch and walked towards the door where her mom was waiting so they could go to Luke's.
"Oh my gosh, and what did the head guy say?" Rory was heard asking, as the two entered their version of heaven on Earth, Luke's Diner. Lorelai had told her story on the way, and they had laughed the entire time.
Luke wasn't expecting Rory and was seriously surprised when she walked in with her mom. "Hello, aren't you supposed to be at work?"
Rory shook her head. "Why isn't anyone glad to see me?"
"Ooh, I bet Colonel Clucker was glad."
She turned to Lorelai. "Yeah, he was, but that's about it."
"Work?" Luke tried to steer the conversation back on course. It was in danger of crashing in a few moments if it kept going off track. "Here?"
"Oh, yeah, that." Rory turned back to Luke. "My boss assigned me a column from my usual stuff. I've got to write an article on 'How to get a rich guy that's right for you,' or something like that. Liz said he gave it to me because my writing was threatening Jack's."
"How is Liz?" Lorelai asked, drinking the coffee Luke had poured.
"Doing good. She's still going out with Ian." Rory said. "I wonder if she's pulling her hair out right about now because she had a huge deadline for this one thing this week."
Miss Patty, who had been lurking around for the entire conversation put her two cents in. "Why people want to kill themselves with anxiety by writing for a newspaper, I'll never know."
Babette also joined in. "Well, you can meet famous people that way too. You know, at all those sport things." She was always the specific one.
Rory smiled, and thought, 'Those two never change. I wonder who Miss Patty has her eye on now.' When she finished the thought, a young looking UPS man walked into the Diner to deliver a package. Her gaze turned towards the older women sitting at the next table and found them staring at the delivery guy. 'So that's who it is.' She smiled to herself.
The rest of the day was spent catching up with her mother, and talking to her grandmother. Well, talking to her grandmother for about ten minutes and the rest of the time with her mom, but it was the same thing. "So it's all set. I'll be at the Country Club tomorrow afternoon and in Hartford that night."
"Can I come?" Lorelai pouted, half looking at Rory and half watching Dave Letterman on the television.
"Nope, you've got Michel to look forward to."
"Ugh, you really know how to cheer someone up." Lorelai rolled her eyes. "Have fun while I'm slowly dying at the Inn."
The next afternoon wasn't that warm, but wasn't that cold, so Rory dressed in black dress pants and a pale blue fitted button down shirt. She set out in her car to Hartford, to visit the country club. The article wasn't going to be as great as Marge usually wrote, but she had to come up with something.
"Rory?" A husky voice questioned as she pulled up to the front entrance of the club.
"Gilmore, since Marge is sick, you're being appointed to cover her column," Rory Gilmore's editors voice snapped her out of her daydream. The entire staff of the New York Times was sitting in a conference room on a dreary Monday morning.
Marge Waterman was the woman who normally did the social column for the paper. The job entailed highlighting the important weddings of important people, and monthly articles on 'how to get a wealthy guy for you.' It was time for the article on how to get a guy when Mr. Beck ordered Rory to take over the column since Marge was on her honeymoon.
"But," Before Rory could go any further she was cut off by her editor's voice once again assigning an assignment to an unsuspecting journalist. She laid her head down on the table frustrated. 'How can I do this article? I write for the World News section,' her mind questioned as the meeting wrapped up.
"I see you got Marge's article for the week," Liz Peterson patted her friend's shoulder after the meeting was adjourned. "I feel sorry for you, but I think Beck gave it to you because your writing is threatening Jack's writing." She laughed, as Jack was the senior staff writer on the Times.
Rory rolled her eyes and walked out of the room with Liz. "Oh yeah, I'm sure that's why." She thought for a moment. "How am I supposed to write an article on how to get a wealthy guy? I don't even know any, I don't think."
"You could write an article on how to get 25 to life for killing a fellow journalist because they're on their honeymoon and you got stuck with their column."
"Oh, I'm sure I could write that one from trial." Rory giggled. "Can you picture me in an orange jumpsuit with handcuffs on trying to catch the details of my own trial? I don't think so." She smiled and sat down at her desk near a big picture window on the third floor.
Liz pointed to the park across the street. "Remember Piccadilly Circus?"
Rory smiled, remembering the fond memory. Two years ago, she and Liz had been foreign correspondents for the Times reporting on the Queen's birthday and big blowout of a party, or 'ball.' The day before the ball, Rory and Liz had gone to Piccadilly Circus and mocked people in their mini cars for hours because they had nowhere to go until the ball.
"I can't believe I ever came back here." She shrugged. "I guess my mom didn't help much either." The day of the Piccadilly Circus outing Lorelai had called Rory's cell phone twenty times and had actual conversations with the voicemail.
"Homesick?" Rory reluctantly nodded, she hadn't been home since Christmas four months ago. "Why don't you see if you can go home to do the article? I mean, Hartford isn't that far from Stars Hollow and there were some hot rich guys if I remember correctly."
"That is true." The twenty four year old Rory responded. Liz had been her best friend since their third year in college together and had gone to visit Stars Hollow a couple times. Of course, the New York City native had thought the town was too small and they had spent most of the time in Hartford. "Maybe I will ask Mr. Beck."
"Ask me what?" Mr. Beck asked, as he walked past the two women chatting. The man was older, gray hair with aging, alert eyes, and he worked day and night for the Times. He noticed Rory was looking out the window almost wistfully. "You okay Gilmore?"
Rory looked up and nodded. "Yeah, I'm just sort of homesick." There were some bags under her eyes, caused from one too many nights staying up until three doing research and writing for her last article on the governments of foreign countries and how it related to the family conditions.
Mr. Beck wasn't the usual boss. The usual boss would breath down your neck as you wrote your article for the Times and then made you re-write it until it was perfect. Beck, as he was known as around the staff, was the total opposite. He believed in his reporters and gave them space to write their stuff. When the articles were turned in, he casually pointed out mistakes here and there, but never made someone re-write things.
Since he wasn't the usual boss, Beck saw the bags under her eyes and grew protective. "Why don't you go home for the week? You can do the article there and get some rest, please. I saw you here a couple nights at two am doing research." He paused. "Don't do that a lot, you'll end up like me." He smiled. From Rory's resume and what he heard about one of his youngest writers, he knew the woman was from a small town in Connecticut and worked her butt off to get where she was. She deserved a break once in a while. The last assignment she had drained a lot out of her, which was one of the reasons he assigned the column to her.
"Are you sure?" Rory immediately asked. "Because I could always stay here and do it, it's not that big of a deal." She looked around.
Beck nodded. "You're going home, in fact, get your things and leave for the day so you can get a head start on that week off." He smiled an old, wise smile and was off.
"Well aren't you the boss' favorite?" Liz leaned forward eagerly after he was out of sight. Of course she was joking, but she also knew that everyone looked after Rory. She brought a breath of fresh air into the stuffy building, and no one wanted her "corrupted" by the big city.
"Shut up, no I'm not." Rory couldn't help but smile as she gathered her things so she could get home to Stars Hollow as fast as she could.
It was around noon when Rory called her mom from the road. "Hey Mom, what's up?"
"Nothing much, I'm just sitting here, waiting for a piano to fall on Michel's head."
"I don't think that'll happen soon."
"Yeah, it will." Lorelai was adamant. "We're getting a piano for the lobby and there are a bunch of guys here carrying it in, and I assigned Michel to direct them."
Rory was about to respond when she heard an angry French voice in the background screaming. As Lorelai explained later on, one of the moving guys didn't have a good enough grip on the piano and it slipped a bit, causing the leg to hit Michel on the head. "Poor guy," Rory sympathized as she pulled into the parking lot at the Inn. "Hey Mom, what are you doing right about now?"
"Well, I'm watching Michel ice his head, which really isn't working, why?"
Rory was at the front door and walked up to the desk, where her mother was standing with her back towards her. "Cause I was wondering if you would like to have some lunch," Rory continued, turning off her cell phone.
"Rory!" Lorelai whipped around and ran to hug her daughter. "It's been forever."
"It's been four months," Michel cut in, groaning from his spot, sitting behind the desk.
"So what, Michel," Rory countered. She never really talked to him much, only when she called the Inn to talk to her mom. "I brought something for you, but I guess you don't get it now."
"Well, four months is a long time, I guess." Michel slowly perked up at the thought of a gift. "What did you get me?"
Rory opened up her bag and pulled out a loaf of French bread and a beret with a logo of a famous French restaurant in New York City. "Ooh, goody, a new beret." Michel's face lit up. Rory looked over at her mom cautiously, never figuring out if he was faking happiness, or he was that easily entertained.
"Why aren't you in the city?" Sookie was surprised as she walked out into the lobby and saw Rory.
"Well hey Sookie, it's nice to see you, too." Rory smiled, but explained anyways. It took a couple minutes to explain, but when she finished, Lorelai demanded that Rory go home and take a nap so she could be awake in time to go to Luke's for dinner.
Rory laughed at her mom's orders. If only Lorelai lived in the city so she could do that all the times that she was up until the wee hours doing research and writing. "Okay, okay. I'm going." She walked out to her Ford Escape and drove off towards the small town she grew up in.
When Rory pulled into the driveway of her old house, she sighed. She hadn't been here since Christmas and missed it very much. She had gotten used to the big city, because she found herself living at a faster pace than other Stars Hollow natives on her last trip. The house was so big, unlike her New York studio apartment. And unlike the apartment, it was filled with personal touches everywhere and there was a certain aura about it. Cheesy in a way, but it was true. Who could resist a monkey lamp? The apartment had pictures, and certain items from home, but that was about it.
"Home sweet, home." Rory muttered as she walked into her old room, which still had Yale apparel on the wall. She let herself fall onto her bed and slowly drifted off to sleep re-memorizing every nook and cranny of her room.
When Lorelai waltzed into her house later that day, and I mean actually waltzed, she found Rory up and about, drinking coffee. "What took you so long?" Rory asked immediately.
"Well, for one, I had to get angry customers from killing Michel just as I was about to leave. Lord knows I almost wanted to leave him to the angry people, but I couldn't."
"What happened?" Rory got off of the couch and walked towards the door where her mom was waiting so they could go to Luke's.
"Oh my gosh, and what did the head guy say?" Rory was heard asking, as the two entered their version of heaven on Earth, Luke's Diner. Lorelai had told her story on the way, and they had laughed the entire time.
Luke wasn't expecting Rory and was seriously surprised when she walked in with her mom. "Hello, aren't you supposed to be at work?"
Rory shook her head. "Why isn't anyone glad to see me?"
"Ooh, I bet Colonel Clucker was glad."
She turned to Lorelai. "Yeah, he was, but that's about it."
"Work?" Luke tried to steer the conversation back on course. It was in danger of crashing in a few moments if it kept going off track. "Here?"
"Oh, yeah, that." Rory turned back to Luke. "My boss assigned me a column from my usual stuff. I've got to write an article on 'How to get a rich guy that's right for you,' or something like that. Liz said he gave it to me because my writing was threatening Jack's."
"How is Liz?" Lorelai asked, drinking the coffee Luke had poured.
"Doing good. She's still going out with Ian." Rory said. "I wonder if she's pulling her hair out right about now because she had a huge deadline for this one thing this week."
Miss Patty, who had been lurking around for the entire conversation put her two cents in. "Why people want to kill themselves with anxiety by writing for a newspaper, I'll never know."
Babette also joined in. "Well, you can meet famous people that way too. You know, at all those sport things." She was always the specific one.
Rory smiled, and thought, 'Those two never change. I wonder who Miss Patty has her eye on now.' When she finished the thought, a young looking UPS man walked into the Diner to deliver a package. Her gaze turned towards the older women sitting at the next table and found them staring at the delivery guy. 'So that's who it is.' She smiled to herself.
The rest of the day was spent catching up with her mother, and talking to her grandmother. Well, talking to her grandmother for about ten minutes and the rest of the time with her mom, but it was the same thing. "So it's all set. I'll be at the Country Club tomorrow afternoon and in Hartford that night."
"Can I come?" Lorelai pouted, half looking at Rory and half watching Dave Letterman on the television.
"Nope, you've got Michel to look forward to."
"Ugh, you really know how to cheer someone up." Lorelai rolled her eyes. "Have fun while I'm slowly dying at the Inn."
The next afternoon wasn't that warm, but wasn't that cold, so Rory dressed in black dress pants and a pale blue fitted button down shirt. She set out in her car to Hartford, to visit the country club. The article wasn't going to be as great as Marge usually wrote, but she had to come up with something.
"Rory?" A husky voice questioned as she pulled up to the front entrance of the club.
