Disclaimer: Consider yourself(ves) disclaimed.

A/N: You guys are still so great with all your feeback and encouragement!

gluglug: You're absolutely right that Jess would have met T. J. if Liz had known him for so long. My bad! (I was more concerned that Luke wouldn't have met him before or known the story). And I was definitely thinking they would live in Brooklyn or Queens (are they still affordable?) and not Manhattan. Should have been clearer about that. If you—or anyone else here—spot any more bloopers, please let me know! Thanks!

Shameless Show Tie-In Plug: I just got Grant-Lee Phillips's (The Town Troubadour) Virginia Creeper and am listening to it as I write this. You guys? Get it. Listen to it. Love it. Seriously.

Okay, end product endorsement. On with the show . . .

******************

For Lorelai, the week Luke was away passed in a blur of contractor meetings, order forms, and paint samples. On Friday afternoon she sat in her makeshift office just enjoying the ten minutes of alone time she'd managed to carve out for herself. The opening of the Dragonfly was only a few weeks away, and she was starting to feel almost as crazed as Lucy was in that episode where Lucy and Ethel got the job at the candy factory and the conveyor belt went so fast they had to shove chocolates in their mouths just to keep up. Now that is a job, she thought. Working with your best friend and all the chocolate you can eat. She took a deep, satisfied breath and looked around her. Nah. This is the best job. Next to raising a happy and healthy kid, owning her own inn had been her biggest dream. And now it was going to become a reality. Her reality. She thought again of all the people who had been a part of this dream: Rory, Sookie, Fran—God rest her soul and thank you very much for not striking us with lightning bolts for negotiating at her funeral—and Luke. Especially Luke.

For the millionth time that week, she wondered how Luke was doing. He'd been down on himself for a while now, and she hated to hear him call himself a "loser" and a "screw-up." If only he could see what an amazing person he was, and how much he meant to so many people. She'd joked about him being her "knight in shining armor," but it was true. Next to Rory and Sookie he meant more to her than almost anyone else in her life—and a lot of the time, although she'd never tell Sookie, he placed second on the list. That's why she had to go bail him out that night. Not because she was hot for him or wanted a fling with him, but because he was her friend and he'd always been there for her and he mattered. That's all. Then why couldn't you tell Jason where you were really going? a voice whispered at the back of her mind. Because it would be weird, she replied. Because deep down you've always wanted to be with Luke, retorted the voice. I do not! Shut up!

Just as Lorelai was starting to feel like Gollum in her own version of Lord of the Rings: The Two Lorelais, her cell phone rang. She roused herself and looked at the caller ID. It was Jason.

"Helloooo?" She answered in her phone sex operator voice.

"What are you wearing?"

Lorelai giggled. "A nun's habit. Complete with wimple and veil."

"Now, see, for some men that would be a turn-off. Me? I find it highly erotic."

"So that's why you got all frisky the night we watched The Sound of Music."

"I can't lie. Women in veils and rosaries get me worked up. I think it's the whole potential for punishment thing. It's incredibly hot. I'm pretty sure I felt my first stirrings of sexual awakening while watching Flying Nun re-runs as a kid."

"Aww! Wasn't Sally Field adorable?"

"Oh, yeah. Plus she had the white robes and the whole flying thing going for her, and . . .I'm going straight to hell, aren't I?"

Lorelai giggled again. "Nah. Say three "I Dream of Jeannie"s, two "Bewitched," and go forth and lust after 60s TV ingenues no more." She leaned back and placed her feet up on her desk. "So, besides impure thoughts about Sally Field, what are you up to?"

"Well, I'm waiting for your father so we can go pick up the world's most boring group of British wool manufacturers and take them to a hot new downtown club whose cutting edge design, trendy drinks and hip clientele will be totally lost on them."

"And I'm sure you're going to hate being surrounded by all those skinny blonde girls prancing around in their strappy dresses and Manolo Blahniks, sipping apple-tinis."

"You've been reading InStyle again, haven't you? Trust me. These over-highlighted, over-manicured Manhattan types do nothing for me. To be honest, they just make nervous."

"Everything makes you nervous."

"I had one little case of flop sweat after talking to your mother! And most of that was your fault!" Lorelai could hear a knock over the phone, and Jason lowered his voice. "Look, that's probably your father. I'd better go. I'll call you later."

"Okay. Have fun. Drink a choco-tini for me."

Lorelai hung up and smiled. She liked Jason. She really did. He was quirky in all the same ways she was, and he gave her plenty of space so she didn't feel like she needed to pull a Runaway Gilmore. True, there had been a minor freak-out when he'd given her the key to his place, but it was cool now. It wasn't like he wanted to live with her or anything. She tried to ignore the fact that she still hadn't given him a key to her house. It'll happen, she told herself. First, we have to survive Hurricane Emily when she finds out we've been sneaking around behind her back for months. At the thought of her mother and the realization of what day it was, Lorelai let out an audible groan.

Friday night dinner in Hartford. And for the first time in a long time, no Luke for a post-dinner post-mortem.

**********************

That night, Lorelai pulled up to Emily's just as Rory was getting out of her car.

"What up, Dee?" she cried, giving her daughter a hug.

"How come you always get to be Cher and I always have to be Dee?"

"Forty-two hours of labor, babe."

"You've been using that argument my whole life."

"I know. I'm nothing if not consistent." She linked her arm through Rory's as they walked to the front door. "Hey, I know. Why don't we blow of seventh and eighth and go see the new Christian Slater?"

"You forgot the part about the 'calorie fest.'

"It's 'cal fest,' and it's not in that scene."

"It is so."

"Is not."

"Is so."

"Is--" Lorelai stopped in mid-taunt when Emily opened the door. Apparently, another Gimore domestic employee had bitten the dust.

"Well, there you both are! Come in!" She ushered them both into the house. "Rory, you're looking lovely this evening. That blouse is very becoming."

"Thanks, Grandma."

Emily narrowed her eyes as she looked at Lorelai. "What's the matter with your hair?"

Lorelai shrugged. "I dunno. It finally came to terms with the fact that it would never be a prima ballerina and just lost the will to live?"

"Be serious. It looks all . . . flat. It lacks luster. Honestly, Lorelai, you'll never find a man if you don't start putting more effort into your appearance."

"After all, it is a truth universally acknowledged that a single mother in possession of a new business must be in want of a life," Rory intoned.

"But, of course" Lorelai scoffed. "Mom, could you please drop the Mrs. Bennet act for two seconds? Besides, you'd lack luster too if you'd been rudely awakened by a freezing cold shower this morning."

"Hot water heater's on the fritz?" asked Rory sympathetically.

"Lorelai, if your hot water heater isn't working you should get a plumber out right away."

"Gee, mom. I'm so glad I have you to guide me. Here I was, all ready to take icy showers for the rest of my life, like those guys who do that polar bear swimming thing."

"You needn't get snippy. I'm merely suggesting you have someone look at it before it explodes or leaks and you have real problems."

"I will, Mom. I'll get Luke to check it out when he gets a chance."

"Luke?"

Oops. Stepped right into that one. I must be tired.

"Luke the ice man? That Luke?"

"No, Luke, the writer of the third Gospel. He's gonna come check on the plumbing as soon as he's done writing up that whole 'arising from the dead on the third day' story."

Emily rolled her eyes at Lorelai's sarcastic remark. "So, this man now does your home repairs as well?"

"Hey, Grandma," Rory broke in, taking Emily's arm "did I tell you there's going to be an article about your DAR fundraiser in the alumni newsletter?


"Really?" Emily responded as Rory led into the living room. "Well, I certainly hope they print a more flattering picture than the one they used from the Arts Council Christmas ball. That one made me look like Shelly Winters after a two-week bender."

Rory glanced back and Lorelai mouthed a thank you. I have trained my child well, she thought with satisfaction.

For the next hour, the evening was relatively uneventful. Then, as dessert was served, fate, fatigue, and Emily Gilmore's sinister powers of manipulation took over.

It started innocently enough.

"So, Grandma, Grandpa's still in New York?"

Emily rolled her eyes. "Yes, he and Jason are taking their clients to some tacky club with a lot of over-priced drinks and cheap women. Last night they were at some place called Pulsar and apparently this woman got up on a table and danced practically naked."

Lorelai's spoonfull of chocolate mousse stopped midway to her mouth. "Wait! Wait! Dad went to a strip club?"

"No, she wasn't a stripper. Apparently she's some kind of heiress—new money, of course. London Hyatt, or some such."

"Paris Hilton?"

"That's it! Paris Hilton. Honestly, I don't see why they think taking clients out and getting them liquored up in some cheap nightspot is preferable to a tasteful party. Of course, even when they do throw a party, they hire some so-called 'party planner' who thinks seaweed is an appetizer and the most important aspect of a cocktail is a 'fun' color."

"Yeah, well, I wish I could hire a party planner," Lorelai said absently. "Sookie and I have been so busy getting the inn ready to open that we haven't been able to put much time in to planning the opening itself." The words were out of her mouth before she realized what she'd said.

"Well, I should think that it would be easy enough to pull it together, " said Emily mildly. "I assume Sookie will do the catering?"

"Actually, between the baby and the inn, she won't have time to cater the party." No no no no no! Stop talking, Lorelai! Just stop talking.

"Well, I'd be glad to give you the names of some reliable caterers. Of course, you've hired the band."

"We're working on it."

"And what about a decorative scheme?"

"We're, uh, still considering options." Lorelai was beginning to see how Han and Chewie felt when the Millennium Falcon got sucked into the evil Death Star's magnetic field.

"Well, for heaven's sake Lorelai, the opening's only a few weeks away, and you don't have food or music or--"

"Fine, Mom!" Lorelai exploded. "Since you know so much, why don't you plan it?" Ooh, that's not good. Alert! Alert! Danger, Lorelai Gilmore! Danger! We have a maternal breach of the social and business perimeters!

"Hah! Like you'd ever let me near your precious opening."

Lorelai did what she always did when Emily backed her against a wall. She pushed in the opposite direction. "How do you know I wouldn't?"

"I just know."

"You do not know. I could be sitting here dying for you to help out. I could be praying to Zeus, and Thor, and all those other macho god-types for you to step in and say 'Of course, Lorelai, I'd love to take over planning your opening.'" Wait. That's not right.

"So you're saying you do want me to help?"

"Well, I'm not saying I don't."

"Well, I don't know. If you're going to act like this, I don't think I want to be involved at all."

"Oh, come on, mom, don't be that way."

"So you do want me to help?"

Lorelai threw her napkin on the table, knowing that not only was she about to put her head in the lion's mouth, she was going to do it with a nice, juicy steak tied around her neck "Yes! Fine! Okay! Mom, would you please, please, help plan the grand opening of the Dragonfly Inn and make it special and classy in the way that only you know how to make it?" When she realized that she'd actually said the words, Lorelai opened her mouth to take them all back. But then she looked at her mother and remembered their conversation during the Great Emily Gilmore Platinum Cart Panic at the mall a few weeks earlier. Emily had been at such loose ends lately, and this was just the kind of project she lived for. She took a deep breath and decided to let the chips fall where they may. At the very least, they'd get a nice party out of it.

A small, triumphant smile played around Emily's lips. "Fine," she said calmly. "Well, obviously we don't have much time to waste. I'll start making notes over the weekend, and we should get together sometime early in the week to confer."

Lorelai stole a look at Rory, whose mouth was hanging open in shock. Lorelai shrugged, as if to say 'Don't look at me. The devil made me do it.'

*****************************

A short while later Lorelai and Rory were standing in Emily's driveway, still stunned at what had transpired.

"Oh. My. God."

"I know!"

"Oh. My. GOD!"

"I know! It was like the Vulcan mind meld or something. She totally played you, Mom."

"Oh, thanks a lot, Miss 'Oh, Grandma, I know you're so lonely and bored with Grandpa away so much and Mom has just the project for you to regain your sense of purpose and turn her into Frances Farmer at the same time!'"

"I didn't say that! All I did was ask if Grandpa was still in New York."

"Exactly!" Lorelai swatted her daughter on the arm. "And why the hell didn't you stop me? I think you're forgetting your role as the hyper-mature, precociously responsible kid who saves her mommy from her own self-destructive impulses."

"I tried, but I didn't know what to do. It was like watching that scene in Scream where Rose McGowan goes into the garage during the party. You know the killer's going to be in there, and you want to warn her not to go in, but in the end there's nothing you can do."

"And I end up dismembered in an automatic garage door opener."

"Well . . . Maybe it won't be that bad."

"That's what they said about Gigli."

******************

A/N: Hope you guys are still enjoying the story. Yeah, I know they just did the "Emily and Lorelai Bicker over Lorelai's Hair" bit in "Shrinking Lorelais," but I wanted to bring Luke up in front of Emily, and get in a mention of the water heater. (Remember the Chekov (or is it Ibsen?) saying about the gun onstage in the first act being fired by the third . . .)

Next Up: Luke's back. Let the angst-y games begin!