"So where did we land on that coffee every morning thing?" she asked when they came up for air.

"Where did we land on the shutting up during movies thing?" he countered circling his fingers around on her lower back.

"Hmm..." she shivered at the touch as she pretended to reflect, but was distracted when she noticed Rory getting into Emily's car. "Hey," she called and walked over to them. "Where are you going?" she asked through the passenger window.

"Um... Grandma and I thought..."

"Yes?" asked Lorelai, brow raised.

"Rory is going to stay in Hartford with us tonight," Emily leaned over from the steering wheel to tell her.

"I see," paused Lorelai. "Rory, I don't think this is a good idea. I don't want you to feel like you have to leave your home because Luke and I... well, because Luke and I are..."

"Mom, I just thought you might like some time together," tried Rory.

"I think it's really for the best, Lorelai," said Emily.

"Well, Mom, I... appreciate... the thought, but I don't really feel comfortable with..." Lorelai began in irritation.

"Mom, do you want me to stay?" asked Rory.

"Do you want to go?" Lorelai asked her.

"I don't know," shrugged Rory, "I just thought it was something nice to do for you."

They paused and Lorelai took a deep breath and tried to give in to the fact that this wasn't an important point. They were trying to do something for her. And she realized that you can't say to the people you love—'Stop doing things for me! I just want to do something for myself again!'

She felt then too, on a deep level that she was trying to hold on to something...And that it was that same something she sought so long ago when she ran off to The Independence Inn... she didn't know what it was exactly, but she did know that she'd had it for years now. But here it was slipping away, that something, and she wasn't really sure if she wanted it gone yet.

She realized though in a flash of wonder as she looked before her: There is my grown up daughter, and there is my mother who is just happy to help, and here I am nearly forty and, ah crap, what does it matter any more?

And she was so tired... and that gave her a hollow kind of feeling

Lorelai sighed and gave in, because change is just going to happen, "All right, have a good time. I'll see you after work tomorrow?"

Might as well be dignified in the face of it all. Adult Inn owners can't snatch their children out of their grandmother's cars and shout, 'Mine! Mine! Mine! This is my daughter—I'm keeping her here! I won't share! And I'm not going to be ill anymore. And I can just do it all myself, thank you very much!'

Rory smiled and just said, "Sure. I love you, Mom." as if a huge tectonic shift hadn't just taken place in Lorelai's world.

She did notice however that Emily breathed a little easier.

And so Lorelai did as she ought (and, truth be told, what she wanted too) and turned back to look at Luke, who was waiting for her.

She walked back to his side then and they watched the car pull out of the drive.

"They were trying to be considerate, Lorelai," he told her.

"I know," she nodded, "I just... I just don't feel like I have any..."

"Control?" he smiled at her.

"Yeah," she smiled sheepishly in return.

"That's what comes of having so much help," he winked at her.

"Yeah, and you're the expert on accepting help," she said sarcastically as they walked into the house.

"Well, I'm legendary for trying to give it, anyway, wanted or un-," he told her as they sat down on the couch.

"Yes, you are," she agreed and leaned into his arms. "But, I wonder what you get out of it..." she said with a yawn.

"This," he said simply, and breathed in her hair as he wrapped his arms around her. She reached over then and picked up the TV remote and handed it to him. He switched on the game as she snuggled in.

In a moment, she was asleep.

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She awoke to a clattering noise and a subsequent muffled, "Crap! Crap! Crap!" out of Luke from downstairs.

She squinted at the clock, it said six.

She got out of bed groggily, the dim memory of coming up to take a shower with Luke last night before he tucked her in, returning to her as she walked down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"What the hell?" she asked as she looked about her. Every cupboard was open, every dish and pan and pot out on a counter, stacked on the table, or piled on a chair.

He looked up from where he was kneeling and added the last 'Tanya Roberts' to the stack in his hand.

"Oh? Did I wake you?" he asked as he set the dishes back on the table.

"No, not at all," she shook her head.

"Good," he said as he pulled open a drawer and began surveying the contents.

She leaned against the kitchen entrance and crossed her arms over her chest, "Luke, I was being sarcastic."

"Oh," he nodded absently. "Lorelai, you have no spatula," he reported and looked over at her.

"You needed to loot my entire kitchen in the middle of the night to determine that?"

"You have no spatula," he shook his head in amazement. "You have four ladles shaped like farm animals, but no spatula."

"Point?" she asked.

He looked up at her again, "You need a spatula."

"Well, good thing my birthday is coming up."

"I can't believe I'm going to say this..." Luke began as he looked around at the junkyard that was her kitchen.

"What?"

"When you're better, we're going to have to go shopping," his said in dismay.

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It was lunchtime, Luke was long gone to the diner and Lorelai lay fretfully in bed. What did it all mean—the yelling, the cuddling, the Rory going to Hartford, the something that was slipping away, the kitchen raid at dawn? She guessed it meant that Luke was here now. And to stay, she decided.

And now for the big question: How did she feel about that?

The answer, surprisingly: Not freaked.

Hmmm... Not freaked at all. Happy, in fact. Yes, she was happy about it. About Luke. About Luke easing into her life. Well, okay, it hadn't been easy at the beginning, not at all. But the sitting on the couch, the sleeping in his arms, the shower, even the watching him inventory her kitchen—all that had been remarkably easy. And, she reflected, maybe as it should be.

She heard the door open downstairs then and listened as his familiar sure step climbed the stairs. And smiled when his baseball-hatted head poked into the room to look at her.

"Hey," he smiled. "I brought you lunch."

"Come here," she invited. He stepped over to sit next to her on the bed.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

She sat up and ran her fingers up under his hat, knocking it off onto the floor. She pulled his face close, leaned in and ran her tongue over his lower lip. He moaned and put his hands around her waist, slipping them up under her shirt to stroke her back.

She pulled him down on top of her then and put her lips to his ear, "You tell me... How do I feel?" she whispered before gently nibbling his earlobe...

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They lay happy together, her head on his shoulder, his hand stroking the curve where her waist met her hip.

"I don't want to stop this," he said.

"Well, I do need my rest and you should probably get back to the diner," she smiled.

"No, I mean this... Us. Me and you. Everything I said yesterday... You understand, right?"

"Yes, I understand, Luke," she said softly.

"So, when Rory goes back to school?" he asked, the hope in his voice plain.

"Yes. When Rory goes back to school, we inventory the flannel and try to find room for it in here somewhere."

He sighed. "And later?" he asked.

"I can't wait for later," she told him with a smile.

"Well, good," he let out a breath in relief.

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She hung up the phone, the calls made. Friday night dinner would be at her house tonight, all five of them, with Luke as the caterer. She smiled at that. Okay, she thought, I can do this. I can have my parents here, I can love Luke, I can run an Inn, I can be Rory's Mom. I can do this. I've had my rest today. Michel says the Jane Austen people are all checked in. Life is good. Under control.

She smiled happily at that. And then went downstairs to open out the kitchen table and pull in another chair.

Luke arrived shortly thereafter with bags and bags of food to be ferried in from the truck.

"Luke, this is a helluva lot of food for a couple of Waspy old people," she said with a laugh.

"Well, I have to feed you and Rory, too," he dead panned.

"Good point," she acknowledged.

"Yes, you do!" said Rory as she came in as well. "And what are you feeding Rory tonight?" she asked as she hungrily nosed into a bag.

"Out!" commanded Luke as he began unpacking containers.

"Touchy!" said Rory to her mother.

"You should hear him go off on the spatula situation," Lorelai agreed.

Both women sat down at the table then to watch Luke work his magic.

"He really is an artist," observed Rory in awe as Luke put a pot roast in the oven to warm up.

"Tell me about it," said Lorelai dreamily, her chin in her hand.

"I'm right here, you know," Luke rolled his eyes.

"Yes, you are! In my kitchen where you belong! Who says wishes can't come true?" declared Lorelai.

Luke secretly smiled at that. But Lorelai and Rory caught it and exchanged a smile themselves.

"The real question is, why didn't we get him here a long time ago?" queried Rory.

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They all sat in the kitchen, finishing up with pie and coffee.

"Well, Luke," said Richard, "I have to say that I believe your pot roast may be better than your meat loaf."

"And your coffee really is quite delicious," added Emily with a smile.

"Well, thank you. Glad you liked it," said Luke a little self-consciously as he moved to clear the table.

Rory hopped up to help, but turned the other way when the phone rang.

"Mom!" she called, "It's Michel!"

Lorelai walked to the phone. "Hello?—Okay.----Did you--?----Okay. Okay.----- She what?----Yes, my ears are perfectly fine, Michel. But why would she do that?----All right. Calm down. Listen, I'll be right over and figure it out.----Well, I'll do it myself if I have to, it won't be the first time."

Lorelai hung up and turned back to the eavesdropping group in the kitchen with a frown.

"Problem?" asked Luke.

"The maid quit. There's no one to do turn-down service tonight, or clean the rooms in the morning," she said as she turned to walk into the living room.

Luke followed her through just in time to see her picking up her purse.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked.

"I'm going to the Inn to take care of it," said Lorelai as she dug through her purse to find her keys.

"No you're not," he told her.

She looked up at him, trying to decide her best strategy, finally landing on reason, "Luke, the Jane Austen people are important clients, I need to take care of this. This is mine and Rory's livelihood."

"No, Lorelai, the doctor said rest until Monday when you have your test again, and then she'd reevaluate your situation," he said and put his hands on his hips.

"Luke... I have to do this. Michel is manning the desk and running their banquet tonight. You and Rory are due at the diner in twenty minutes so Lane can play her gig... I'm—"she pleaded.

"I'll go and take of it."

Lorelai turned to her mother. "Mom," she laughed, "I appreciate..."

"Don't dismiss me, Lorelai," said Emily haughtily. "Your father and I will go over and take care of it."

"Mom, what are you going to do? Clean the rooms?" she asked incredulously.

"If I have to!" sniffed Emily.

"Mom..."

"I don't really see that you have a choice, Lorelai," she added airily. "You need me to help you out."

Lorelai opened her mouth, then shut it again. "Maybe I could call Kirk...?" she tried lamely.

"He's working security patrol tonight," chimed in Rory. "Mom, let Grandma and Grandpa take care of it."

"But..." Lorelai was panicking a little now.

"Lorelai, just let go... And let them do it," Luke added gently.

"Lorelai, I admire your professionalism," began her father as he walked over to her. "But you must acknowledge that we are all right in this situation and allow your mother and I to take care of this. You can't endanger your health cleaning rooms."

They all turned to look at her expectantly.

She looked into each of their faces and saw the same resolve. She turned away then and walked to the window to breathe a moment. Why was this so hard?

She turned back to them, lifted her chin, her eyes a little bright now, "I can't really afford a temp right now and there's no agency in Stars' Hollow... not that we could get anyone tonight, anyway..."

"Lorelai," said Emily, "I will take care of it."

She looked at her mother a moment, "Well... Thank you," she said and sat down in the arm chair.

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Later that night she sat up in bed punching grumpily at the keys of her laptop, when she heard the door open downstairs. She looked up a moment later to see Rory come in and plop on the bed next to her.

"Here," she said, handing her mother a bag, "Day old danish."

"Thanks," said Lorelai without enthusiasm. "Any good tippers tonight?"

"Kirk came in to get coffee and gave me five dollars," Rory informed her.

"Wow, what came over him?" said Lorelai caught up in surprise at that despite herself.

"Oh, he was grateful. Plus he's richer now."

"Grateful? For the coffee?"

"No, I think because I helped him out."

"How did you do that?" her mother asked.

"Oh, he is trying to figure out how to... proceed with Lulu, as he puts it. He wants to propose or something. So, anyway, I lent him the book."

"The book?" asked Lorelai in dread.

"Yeah, I gave it to him the other day. He said it's really helping."

Lorelai couldn't think of a single thing to say in response to that.

"So, what have you been doing?" Rory asked her.

"Um, trying to find online support groups for women who are forced to relinquish control of their lives to their mothers. No luck so far. I'm thinking maybe I should start one. How does OhJustGiveUpAndLetThemDoItAlready! dot com sound?

"Unrealistic."

"Yeah," agreed Lorelai. "So now I'm just deleting all the emails from those who want me to have Ronald Reagan memorabilia or have my penis enlarged."

"There's a disturbing thought," frowned Rory.

"What?" asked Lorelai as she hit delete yet again.

"Do any of them offer to do both?"

"At the same time?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I suppose that would depend on how you feel about Ronald Reagan," reasoned Lorelai.