Ok, second chapter. Read on!

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After Rory's second birthday we had a lot of "stuff" to add to our collection. And I'm not talking frilly rattles and pink diapers, I mean real stuff. You see somehow it had spread around town that the beautiful Gilmore Girls were living in a potting shed similar to the homes of people in third world countries, and were eating pbj sandwiches everyday. So for my kid's second birthday people tended to not only buy things that would benefit the squabbling toddler but also our home.

Miss. Patty handed me my present and smiled sincerely.

"I hope you like it honey," she said. In other words: "Even if you don't say that you do".

"It's a telephone," I exclaimed, a fake smile plastered to my face. "Just what RORY"S always wanted,"

Miss. Patty laughed and then made some strange gesture that seemed to communicate more to the guests then to me myself. "I just thought that little Rory could practice her numbers. You know, you say the numbers and she presses them,"

"And we end up on the phone with Mr. Jenkins in Tim-Buck 2," I added for kicks.

Just then a new voice piped in. That of a teenaged boy formally known as Kirk, the newspaper deliverer.

"Mr. Jenkins. I believe I know him. Did he have a company here that manufactured"Good Nites" a few years ago?" Laughter roared through-out the room and Kirk's face turned tomato red. "It was probably a dream," he said meekly.

As I gazed around the Inn I felt extremely sorry for the maids (me, myself and I). Cups and confetti and many things that started with c's (get your mind out of the gutter) cluttered the room, but amongst it all was one lonely present still left to be opened. One gigantic present. But I wouldn't judge the parcel by its size, because as I said before, that is something my mother would do.

Now that were on the subject I'm sure you would be shocked to know that Emily didn't even make it to Rory's party. Don't think she wasn't invited. I was sure to exercise "the good manners I was blessed with" by informing her of the date time and place. I can even recall the conversation. It had been over the telephone, sadly enough that's how I kept in touch with the people I once called family.

I remember how much my fingers shook as I dialed the number on the Inn's telephone. How much I knew I would regret what I was doing.

And I did.

"Hi mom," I muttered as I heard the distant clashing of expensive glasses. She was having yet another of her cocktail parties.

"Lorelai," Emily addressed.

"We're having a party for Rory at the Inn and I thought that maybe you would want to be there,"

"What Inn is this?"

"The Inn where I work Mom," I told her, genuinely annoyed. She had asked that question at least 5 times in the last year.

"Oh right, whose going?"

"Rory and me. And some guests. Some local people who I'm suspecting you wouldn't think fit to clean your floors". I know, it was harsh, but think about how terrible I was feeling. My mother didn't even consider my job important enough to remember.

"Don't talk to me like that!" Emily snapped and continued flapping her mouth like it was her duty," Why on earth do you want me to come if your just going to treat me like garbage?" DUH. I thought it was a no-brainer.

"For Rory mom, for my little baby girl who may never know her grandparents". But I doubt she even heard. She was too busy instructing the maid on how to take the gizzard bag out of the turkey without damaging it's skin.

"Lorelai, would you please hurry up? I'm in the middle of something,"

And then I made a rash decision, a very rash decision.

"Yeah, I'll hurry up," I sneered, and I hung up on Emily Gilmore.

Anyways, back to the gigantic present. I knew right away who it was from and I betcha you did too (okay so I'm not that great at telling stories). Some people never change and Luke Danes is definitely one of them. "Open it! Open it! Open it!" The cry echoed through-out the room, competing with Rory's sobs for attention. I stuck Rory's soother in her mouth and kissed her on the fore-head before strolling over to the present. "From Luke," read a piece of paper attached to the front with a scrappy green ribbon. Sure, he has never been able to master words, but Luke Danes is by far one of the sweetest men I have ever crossed paths with. I knew that then. And I know it now. I slowly unwrapped the gift and found myself jumping with joy as I realized what was inside. Not only had he gone out of his way to purchase an adorable play kit for Rory but he had also bought us a-

"Coffee maker!" I half screamed. "Luke where are you? This is going down in history beside Rudolph and-'

"He didn't come," someone said and the whole room broke out in mayhem.

My heart felt as if it slid out of my chest and smashed to a million pieces on the floor. ANd my head told me that everyone could see it and that everyone knew how I felt and knew why I felt that way.

The next day I marched into the diner, bright and early, with Rory in hand. I was relieved beyond belief when I saw Kirk sitting with his grandma at his usual table. "Take her!" I commanded, pushing Rory into his arms. Kirk let out a high pitched squeal.

"Does it bite?" He wondered, but he received no answer.

Luke was bent over the counter wiping it furiously and it became obvious to me that he was pretending he didn't know I was there. "Why didn't you come?" I asked him straight out, daring him to look me in the eye. He didn't although, just acted as if cleaning the table was his life's goal. "Luke, what the hell? Has table cleaning become an Olympic sport or something? Answer me!" I yelled.

"I had things to do,'

"And these things were more important then Rory's birthday party?" I snapped.

"Why was it so important that I was there? I left my present didn't I?"

Awkward silence.

"Because I-Rory wanted you to be there," I whispered.

"Oh,"

"Yeah. Oh".

Luke offered to come over and teach me how to use the coffee maker in exchange for not making it to the party. He helped more then he realized, even though he was forced to play doctor when the machine decided to get angry. It exploded on me and the hot liquid left my arms blistered and sore.When that happened Luke transformed into a mad man; running around and searching frantically for any remedy that would help to heal burns. He found suitable lotion and led me over to the couch, instructing me to sit down. And I didn't object. Luke would be too embarrassed. When he applied the lotion his touch sent shivers down my back and I felt a lot better. I still ask myself sometimes though, magic lotion or magic fingers?

In the end the coffee maker was better then new.So I gave Luke a hug to show him how grateful I was and somehow it felt right; it felt right to be pressed up against his warm body.

For many years I would seek safety in Luke's strong arms. He was the security blanket I'd never had, not to mention the psychiatrist who would help me to solve many problems and leap over many obstacles in my life. Unfortunately I still haven't told him how much I love and appreciate him. Thank god times on my side.

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Read and review pl-easse.