Growing Together, Apart

The package Rory had given Luke sat on the passenger seat of his truck as he drove into town. When he arrived at his place, he remained in the truck a moment, staring at his gift, gripping the steering wheel. He took the keys out of the ignition, reached over, and carefully picked up the box with both hands. He carried it out in front of him as he walked through the diner and up the stairs to his apartment, ignoring the customers he passed on his way. He placed it on his kitchen table and again stood staring, his hands on his hips. After a moment, he sat and gingerly began to remove the paper.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting to find when he lifted the lid of the impossibly thin box, but it was not several rows balled-up tissue. He lifted one and began to unravel it: a glass chess pawn, colored a purply blue, the color of midnight. He rolled it in the palm of his hand, examining the curves, the cut of the glass. He held it up to the light: it was perfect, clear, flawless. He stood it beside the box and reached for another tissue ball, this one concealing another pawn, but colorless, though just as expertly made. As he unwrapped each piece, small sections of the chessboard beneath—also wrapped firmly in tissue paper—became visible. When he had all the pieces lined up in rows on the table, he lifted the board from the bottom of the box and ripped the tissue off. He set the chessboard on the table and stood over it, peering down, able to see the scratches and nicks on the surface of the wood clearly through the glass.

"Huh," he said.

Smiling slightly to himself, Luke lined up the pieces on the appropriate squares. When they were all just where they should be, pawns facing off, rooks and bishops standing guard, king and queen regally waiting at either end, he squatted down until he was eye level with the table and studied the board and pieces together. He shook his head, confounded and delighted. He put out his hand and slid one of the clear pawns forward two spaces. Carefully, he rotated the board and cocked an eyebrow, considering his next move. He pushed a blue pawn out a single space.

Luke pointed at the clear side. "I'm gonna kick your ass," he said. With that, he turned on his heel and jogged back downstairs to the diner.

Emily had lain awake most of the night, her hands folded over her stomach, staring at the ceiling. The phone rang at seven fifteen for her wake up call and she ordered a breakfast of fruit compote, dry wheat toast, and a strong pot of coffee. She ate in her dressing gown, sitting on an uncomfortable chair by the window, watching what she could see of the city through the window. When she finished her breakfast, she began to ready herself to leave. As she showered, dressed, made up her face and arranged her hair, her movements were methodical, deliberate. At exactly nine o'clock, she rang the front desk to ask if her driver had yet arrived. By nine fifteen she was seated behind the passenger seat, her hands clasped primly over her knee. The driver turned to her.

"And where to this morning, Mrs. Gilmore?"

She hesitated before answering, dropping her eyes and turning to the window as she gave him the directions.

Rory and Lorelai had dawdled over coffee in the kitchen. Lorelai leaned forward on her elbows, holding her mug beneath her chin.

"So, what was that you gave Luke before?"

"A present."

"What sort of present?"

"Just a present," Rory said.

"You're not going to tell me what it is?" Lorelai asked with affected hurt.

"You're going to see it, eventually," Rory told her. "You'll find out what it is then."

"But why won't you tell me now?" Lorelai whined.

Rory rose and rinsed her cup in the sink. "The same reason I wouldn't let Luke open it here," she said.

Lorelai turned in her chair and followed Rory with her eyes as she walked to the refrigerator and peeked inside. "Yes, but I don't know what reason that is, either."

"Because it's embarrassing."

Lorelai smiled softly. "Oh, Rory. That's just plain silly." Rory shrugged. "Okay, so it was flat, so… Is it a mirror? Are you trying to tell Luke that his personal hygiene leaves something to be desired? Or is it a cutting board? Or a—a—a book? A jigsaw puzzle? I'm running out of flat things here, Rory."

Rory closed the refrigerator door and leaned over to kiss her mother's cheek. "You'll see," Rory said. "I'm going to take a shower."

"Oh, come on! Don't leave me hanging!" Lorelai said, rising and following her to the bedroom.

Rory stopped her at the door, putting her hands on Lorelai's shoulders. She turned her around to face the kitchen again. "A little privacy here, please?"

Lorelai rolled her eyes and walked back to the coffeemaker. "You've been spending too much time with Emily," she grumbled. "I am your mother. I've already seen you naked too many times to count, and—"

"Patience is a virtue," Rory singsonged as she walked past in her bathrobe.

"You know what I'd like to do to the person that came up with that expression? Give him a couple cups of really good, strong coffee, and then lock him out of the bathroom for eternity. Then we'll see if patience is a virtue," Lorelai said darkly.

While Rory waited for Lorelai to be ready, she walked around her room, studying each of the pictures closely. She wondered what to put in the four empty frames—if it were going to be an accurate representation of her life, as it seemed to be thus far, she'd have to put up pictures of herself with Jess and with Dean. It wasn't an appealing thought. She had the pictures, stuffed at the bottom of a box somewhere, and perhaps some day she'd put them in an album where they belonged and she'd be able to look back without the same stinging pain she felt now whenever she thought of both of them. As far as ruins went, she thought, they were barely weather-beaten yet.

She retrieved her book bag and fished out her journal, searching out a place for it in the room. The desk had no drawers, which Rory didn't mind; she considered desk drawers the receptacle for things she wasn't currently using or had used but no longer needed, like old class notebooks and already graded essays. She kneeled on the bed and put the journal on the shelf above the headboard. She felt foolish smiling at it, as though it were an old friend, but its very presence in the room was a comfort.

Rory wandered out to the living room. Luke's toolbox was on the floor by the hall table. "Hi, Bert," she said. The house was a mess, boxes everywhere. Rory stood with her hands on her hips, clucking her tongue. "I go away for six weeks, Mom, and look at what happens."

"It's your stuff!" Lorelai called from her bedroom.

"What stuff?" Rory asked, stooping. She pulled the flaps of a box open and shrieked. "My books! My books! Oh, I love my books, I missed my books." She pulled a fat volume out and hugged it to her chest. "At last, you will have homes appropriate for your wonderfulness."

Lorelai stood at the top of the stairs, brushing her hair into a ponytail. "And this, ladies and gentlemen, is exhibit A through Z of why I did not let Luke put your books on any of the shelves."

"What are you talking about?" Rory asked.

"Like many other things in this life, Rory, you are very weird about your books. You probably have some bizarre, arcane shelving system that mere plebeians like myself could never understand," Lorelai said.

"You are not a plebeian, Mom," Rory said, flopping onto the couch. She arranged the pillows under her head and noticed a flannel shirt draped over the back of the couch. "Are you ready yet?"

Lorelai bounced down the stairs, grinning. "Ready and starved." She held her hands out and pulled Rory off the couch, putting her arm around her daughter as they walked to the door. "Have I told you how glad I am that you're back? And how great you look?"

Rory nodded twice. "You did," she said. She stopped at the front door. "Mom? Before we go out, will you tell me…?"

Lorelai looked Rory in the eye and sighed. "He's still with her," she said.

Rory bit her lip and nodded again, crossing her arms over her stomach. "Okay."

"That's really all I know. There hasn't been a whole lot of talk," Lorelai said, shifting her weight on her feet. She dropped her eyes and tucked her hair behind her ears. "I didn't know whether or not to tell you this—"

"I'll be okay," Rory said.

Lorelai raised her eyes again. "He came by here a few weeks ago."

"What did he want?"

She shrugged. "For me to talk to you. He was confused, he was upset, he was looking for someone to help him out, but—"

"You said no."

"Of course I said no," Lorelai said. "Whatever he had to say, he has to say it to you or Lindsay; it wasn't appropriate for me to get involved." She looked at her daughter, worried. "Should I not have told you? Are you—"

Rory sighed. "Mom, it's all right. It's better. I needed to know."

Lorelai rubbed Rory's arm. "You sure?"

"I'm sure. I'm—I can deal," Rory said. "I'm fine."

"You really are," Lorelai said. "Come on. Let's go to Luke's."

"Speaking of Luke," Rory began as they stepped outside.

She didn't get further than that. Babette was outside next door, watering some flowers and talking to her gnomes. The moment the Lorelais stepped outside, Babette was on her way over, chattering as she walked.

"Rory! Honey! You're home! Ah, look at you!" she cried, walking with open arms. "You look fabulous! Morey and I been counting off the days till you got home! Wasn't expecting you till this afternoon—oh, Rory, honey, you should have seen the goings-on at this place while you were gone, people comin' in, people goin' out, hammerin' and saws goin' all hours of the day and night. Crazy!"

"Hi, Babette," Rory managed to say, smiling broadly. "Have you seen the room yet? It's beautiful."

"Oh, not yet, sugar, but I'll come by, don't you doubt it. I gotta go before I drown my pansies! Come over later and tell me all about your trip, you gorgeous girl! Lorelai, tell Luke thanks for fixing the squirt gun for the hose, it's been workin' like a dream!"

Lorelai covered her face with her hands as they walked away, shaking with laughter. "Dirty!" she gasped. "Oh, babe, I hope you're ready. It's going to be the question game for you for the next few weeks until school starts."

"Oh, I don't mind," Rory said. "So, anyway, as I was saying. Speaking of Luke."

"Were we speaking of Luke?" Lorelai asked.

"I believe we were," Rory told her. "It seems like things are going well."

Lorelai tucked Rory's arm under hers. "It's been—let's just say it's been a very eventful six weeks." Rory watched her; she seemed to gather her thoughts a moment. "When you left for your trip, I didn't know that things were going to be like this for me and Luke. I didn't—" She stopped. "Do you remember that conversation we had outside the diner when I first told you I thought I might be dating Luke?" Rory nodded. "And you said that if I'm with Luke then I'm with Luke?"

"I remember," Rory said. "You were a big, dopey smitten kitten."

Lorelai narrowed her eyes. "I was not."

"Oh, you were, too."

She shook her head. "I am, you know, with Luke. The past two months have been—they've been hard. Good stuff's happened, bad stuff's happened. And he's been—he's been Luke." She squeezed Rory's arm. "I need to know how you feel about that. I know this morning was weird with him in the kitchen and him being there when you woke up and—"

"Mom," Rory said, pulling her to a stop. "You don't need my permission."

Lorelai's mouth fell open. "I'm not asking your permission," she said. "I just—I want to know that you're okay with everything, what you think, if this is just too weird—"

"Mom," she said again. "I'm not sixteen anymore. I mean, yeah, it is a little weird because he's Luke, and everything, but—it doesn't matter if I'm okay with it."

"It matters to me," Lorelai said firmly.

Rory gave her a sad smile. "I am okay with it. I might have to get used to it, but it's not—you don't have to worry about me."

"I am your mother, Rory. I will always worry about you."

They began to walk again, and Rory leaned against Lorelai slightly. "And I think it's great. You seem—you look happy."

Lorelai kissed the top of her daughter's head. "I am happy."

When they hit Main Street they were stopped every few feet or so by another person welcoming Rory back home. Lorelai rolled her eyes when they had passed Miss Patty's, who had folded Rory into a tight hug and cooed that Rory looked too grown up. "You'd think you'd gone to war and come home with the enemy's head on a stick," Lorelai said.

"I did. Didn't I show you? We're going to keep it in the front yard next to the mail box."

There was a table waiting for them at Luke's. Lorelai dropped into her chair, watching Rory as she sat across from her. She seemed pale suddenly, slightly shaky. Lorelai tipped her head to the side, her expression concerned, questioning. Rory only shrugged in response and yawned.

Luke was at the table quickly, pouring them both coffee. Lorelai opened her mouth to order but he held up his hand.

"It's taken care of," he said.

Rory rested her chin on her hands and looked up at look. "Is Lane here today?"

"She's coming in a little later," Luke said. "Half an hour, maybe. I'll be right back with your food."

Rory sipped her coffee. "Oh, this is good. I don't care what anyone says, Luke's coffee wins over espresso hands down." She put the mug down and looked at her mother levelly. "Six weeks really did feel like a long time."

"Good long? Bad long?" Lorelai asked.

"Neither," Rory said. "Just… long. I needed it."

"So, good long," Lorelai replied.

"I guess," Rory conceded. She looked around. "Oh, my God," she said.

Lorelai followed her line of sight. "Woo, boy," she cried.

Luke set a plate in front of the both of them. "Chocolate chip pancakes with strawberries and whipped cream, a side of bacon and sausage."

Lorelai pointed at Rory's plate. "She got more!" she cried.

He gave her a hard look. "She's the one who's been gone."

Rory stuck her tongue out at Lorelai. "This looks amazing, Luke."

He shrugged, suddenly embarrassed. He seemed to hesitate a moment, unsure of whether to stay or go. Lorelai watched him, her brow furrowed. Rory had already begun to cut into her pancakes. Luke reached out and placed his hand on the crown of Rory's head. She looked up at him, her eyes wide. His own were bright as he spoke.

"Thank you," he said.

Rory lifted one shoulder, ducking her head slightly, shy. "I'm glad you like it."

Lorelai stared at them as Luke nodded a few times, took a breath, and walked back to his place behind the counter. He took the pencil from behind his ear and began scribbling on an ordering pad, his chin tucked to his chest. Lorelai looked at her daughter.

"Well?" she asked. Rory shoved a fork loaded with pancake and strawberry into her mouth and shrugged. Lorelai narrowed her eyes, shaking her head. "Very mysterious." She picked up her own fork and began to eat. "So," she said, "tell me everything. What you saw, what you bought, where you went, where you stayed, what you ate, I want to hear."

Luke kept to his usual business, taking orders, handing out meals, disappearing into the kitchen (or upstairs to his apartment) for moments at a time, but he kept his eyes focused most on the Lorelais, talking and laughing as they ate, draining their coffee cups. Without having to be asked, he refilled their mugs when he saw them getting low but didn't interrupt their conversation. Lorelai would look up at him and smile as he did, her face flushed and alight with happiness. Rory, he thought, seemed some how quieter, though her conversation with her mother wasn't any less. It was something else, he thought, though he couldn't think how to phrase it, exactly, something within.

He was taking an order at the counter when Lane burst in the front door, apologies for her lateness falling out of her mouth as she hurried towards him. Without speaking, he indicated towards Rory and Lorelai's table, nodding his head in their direction. Lane turned to look over her shoulder, confused. Rory sat, her arms folded across the tabletop; she raised one hand and waved slightly.

"Oh, my God!" Lane cried. "Oh, my God! You're home!" She looked back at Luke. "She's home!"

Rory pushed her chair back and crossed the diner to give her friend a hug. "Hi," she said.

"How are you?" Lane asked, stepping back. "Are you taller?"

"I don't think so. Do I look taller?"

Lane tipped her head to one side. "I think you look taller." She grinned. "I can't believe you're back!"

"I know!" Rory grabbed Lane's hand and turned to Luke. "Can I borrow her for a few minutes?"

"Take your time," he said.

"Mom," Rory said, turning.

Lorelai waved her hand. "Go. I'll meet you back at the house."

The house was empty when Emily arrived, earlier than she'd planned. With a sigh, she told the driver to unload the bags in the driveway. Crossing her arms over her chest, she surveyed her surroundings. All the travel of the past weeks and this was where she'd ended up, she thought. When the driver had gone, she leaned one hip against the tallest and heaviest suitcase, waiting.

After Rory and Lane stepped outside, Lorelai finished her coffee, lost in thought. Rory was right: she was fine, she was better, she was herself again. But, she thought. But. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, pushed a curl behind her ear. She rested her chin on her shoulder, jutting out her lower lip. She toyed with her fork, drawing patterns in the remains of whipped cream and syrup on her plate. She felt oddly blank, a feeling approaching let down, unsettled. She looked at Rory's vacant seat a moment.

Luke bounded down the stairs, catching her eye. He immediately strode to the table, a thoughtful, amused expression on his face.

"What were you doing upstairs?" she asked.

"Just, you know, nothing," he told her, clearing the table.

"Oh, that."

He paused. "Everything okay?"

Lorelai put her palm to her forehead, nodding. "Yeah, I'm just—everything's fine."

"You sure?" he asked, placing the stacked plates back on the table, leaning down.

"Do you have a minute?"

He looked around. "Can you wait until Lane gets back?"

She rose. "You know, I should probably just get home, and it's really—"

"Lorelai," he said. He reached out one hand, just touched his fingertips to her waist, his eyes worried. "Just hang on, okay?" Lorelai closed her eyes, nodding. "Go upstairs," he said. "I'll meet you up there."

Rory and Lane ran across the street to the square, laughing as they threw themselves onto a park bench.

"So, tell me everything," Lane said. "How are you doing?"

Rory looked her friend in the eye as she answered. "I am better than I was when I left."

"Meaning…?" Lane asked, leaning forward.

"Meaning that I know why everything happened," she said. "I think I sort of figured myself out a little bit." She tapped a finger to her temple. "Belated housecleaning, you know?"

Lane nodded. "I do. You look better."

"God, how did I look before?"

"Sad," Lane said, "and tired. But you look better now." She grabbed Rory's shoulders and shook her slightly. "I'm so glad you're back!"

Rory giggled. "Me too. I can't believe I have to go back to school in a couple of weeks, too—I feel like there's still so much to do. Have you been working a lot?"

"Every day," Lane said. "But I don't have anything else to do except practice, so it's okay. Plus, money's always good."

"Always good," Rory agreed. "Dave didn't come home after all?"

"He got into that summer music program at the last minute—some guy got kicked out when he was busted for pot. Dave said he was really lucky to get the spot, so—"

"So you were really nice and told him you were happy for him?" Rory said.

Lane nodded. "When really I wanted to pull the phone out of the wall and throw it at someone. But we talk a lot, and he's going to be home for Thanksgiving. And it's probably better in some ways because Mama and I have just started really getting along again."

"Oh, Lane, that's so great!"

"She lets me come home for dinner two times a week and she always sends me home with leftovers for the boys," Lane said. "Of course, they don't actually eat the leftovers, but they've created some very impressive tofu sculptures."

"Forward advancement of the arts," Rory said. "I approve."

Lane looked over her shoulder to the diner. "I should go to work, I was already late."

"Come by later, okay? I've got stuff for you."

"I love stuff," Lane said.

When they returned to the diner, Rory leaned against the counter as Lane tied a short apron over her jeans. She poured coffee into two to-go cups for Rory and Lorelai. Luke emerged from the kitchen as she did, two plates laden with food in his hands.

"Lane, I have to go upstairs a minute. Take this to the couple in the corner?"

"Hey, Luke? My mom didn't go home yet, did she?" Rory asked. "We didn't see her leave."

He averted his eyes. "She went up to use the bathroom. She'll be back in a sec."

As he mounted the stairs, Rory and Lane gave each other amused, knowing looks. "Looks like a tryst," Lane said, walking away with the plates.

"Are they coupley in public?" Rory asked her.

Lane rounded the counter and reached for the coffee pot to give out refills. "Not really," she said, "unless you count the time they made out in the square and Taylor threatened to have them arrested for it."

"No!"

"And then Taylor started telling people he was going to fine Luke for littering—"

"Littering?" Rory asked.

"Something to do with Chinese food?" Lane said, shrugging. "But Kirk went ballistic about it and cleaned everything up, talking about Easter eggs the whole time. It was weird."

"I must agree," Rory said, laughing. "Kissing in the square. Luke and my mom. How weird is that?"

"Those crazy kids," Lane said.

Lorelai was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the chess set, when Luke opened the door to his apartment.

"Is that what Rory gave you?" she asked him.

He pulled a chair up beside her. "That's what Rory gave me."

"Huh," Lorelai said. "What, are you playing a game against yourself?"

"What's going on?" he asked her.

Lorelai turned to look at him, raised her eyes to his face. His eyes, the set of his mouth, the slight furrow of his forehead—she could see he was studying her, at once concerned, irritated, and earnest. She smiled sadly at him.

"It's really nothing," she told him. "I'm probably just a little emotion with Rory being home."

"Lorelai."

She rolled her eyes, leaning forward and resting her forehead on his shoulder. "Luke," she replied. She felt his hand, heavy on the base of her neck, kneading her skin. She lifted her head and kissed him. "I'm okay. Really."

Luke pulled her to her feet and walked her to the door. "Okay," he said. "If you say so."

"I say so."

The Lorelais walked home, sipping their coffee.

"So," Rory said. "Making out in the square?"

Lorelai groaned. "Ah, yes. In your absence, your mother has become the scandal queen of Stars Hollow. Between Jason's infamous speech at the town meeting and my less-than-thought-out liaison with Luke in the gazebo, I have had the gossip mill churning all by my lonesome this summer." She stopped, realized what she'd said and wished the words were solid that she might reach out and take them back, cram them back down her throat.

"So, Scandal Queen, do you get a crown? What about a cape?" Rory asked, her voice light.

Lorelai looked at her sidelong. She put her arm around her daughter's shoulders, grinning. That's my girl, she thought. "Of course I get a crown. And a scepter."

"Fancy."

"Luke is, of course, my jester," she continued. "And Jason—"

"Can we just go back to calling him Digger? He doesn't deserve a real name," Rory said. "Not after what he did to you."

Lorelai sighed. "You know, he might have done me a favor, in the long run."

"What? How?"

She was quiet a few paces. "I had to look at myself, really look at myself after that. It's like everything else in life, babe. When the bad shit happens, you have to learn from it."

Rory leaned against her mother, her steps slow and deliberate. "What did you learn?"

"I learned about Luke," Lorelai said. "And I needed that."

They were silent a while as they walked.

"Mom? Thank you for the journal." Rory toyed with her coffee cup. "It was—it helped."

"I'm glad," Lorelai said. Again, they fell silent. "So, the chess set? Can you explain that to me?"

Rory hesitated. "You can't tell Luke I told you."

"Ah, okay," Lorelai said, puzzled.

She took a breath. "Do you remember when I was in middle school—I guess I was eleven or twelve—and sometimes after school I'd go to Luke's and do my homework before dinner?"

"I guess," Lorelai said.

"Well, I did, on the days I didn't go to the inn. I don't really remember how it started, but sometimes, Luke would pull out this old chessboard and set up all the pieces for me, and he taught me how to play. He'd just do it between working—he'd go wait on someone and then he'd come and take his turn and go away while I took mine." She paused, laughing as she remembered. "Sometimes, we wouldn't finish the game before you came, and the next day when he set up the pieces he'd put them all back where they were the last time we left off. I have no idea how he remembered where they all went."

"He taught you to play chess? Why didn't you tell me this? Why didn't he tell me this?" Lorelai asked, taken slightly aback.

Rory shrugged. "I thought you'd make fun of us, and he thought you'd really make fun of us, so we made a pact not to tell you about it. Besides, you two weren't very close back then."

"I guess we weren't," she allowed. "And you two kept that pact for what, eight years now?"

"Please don't tell him. It was fun, then, like a secret club, or something, and after we didn't play anymore it was just a nice thing that he did for me, you know?"

Lorelai shook her head, marveling. "I won't tell him. I just—I never would have guessed." She smiled to herself. She looked towards the house as they neared the end of the drive. "Oh, my sainted aunt. Mom?"

Rory's face broke into a wide smile. "Grandma!" she cried.

The two girls hurried to the house. Emily sat in the porch swing, her hands folded in her lap. She stood as they approached, her smile wan.

"Lorelai," she said.

Lorelai hung back as her daughter and mother hugged each other in greeting. She shoved her hands in her pockets. "Hi, Mom. This is a surprise."

"Is it?" Emily asked. "We were to arrive today, weren't we?"

"I just mean, I'm surprised to see you here, and with all your things," Lorelai said.

"Rory left her things with me in New York. I thought she might be needing her clothes," Emily said. "Am I allowed inside, or should we continue this discussion out here on the porch? I am partial to the swing here, I do so enjoy the—"

Lorelai sighed. "Mom, would you like to come in and have something cold to drink?"

"Why, thank you, Lorelai. That would be lovely."

Lorelai closed her eyes and took a deep breath as Rory led her grandmother into the house. "I'll just grab the bags," Lorelai told them.

When she had finished hefting the luggage into the living room, Lorelai found Rory and Emily in the kitchen, sitting in companionable silence. She went to the refrigerator and helped herself to a bottle of water, determinedly keeping her mouth shut. Rory looked at her, silently scolding.

"So, Mom," Lorelai said. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Lorelai, thank you for asking. And yourself?"

"You know me, Mom, I'm always good," Lorelai told her. "How was Italy?"

Emily raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "Would you like me to speak for the entire country, Lorelai?"

"Grandma, come see what Mom did to my room while we were gone," Rory said abruptly, taking Emily by the hand. She pulled her grandmother to her bedroom door and gestured. "Isn't it great?"

Emily said nothing for a beat. She tossed a look at Lorelai over her shoulder. "You did this?"

"Well, I had help," Lorelai replied, "but the basic concept was me, yes."

Emily ventured inside and studied a shelf closely. She ran her hand over the desk, smiling as she turned to look at her girls. "This is quite something. Where on earth did you find these pieces?"

"Luke made them," Rory said. "He made everything except the armoire, but he did the inside over."

"I helped," Lorelai said petulantly.

"And Mom made the curtains and all the bedding," Rory went on, shaking her head at her mother. "And picked out all the pictures."

Emily seemed to notice the photographs. She had been leaning over the headboard, studying the design. She looked up and was met with a picture of herself, her arm around Rory, Richard beside her. Her eyes faltered and she moved around the bed to examine another photo.

"Did Luke really do all this?" she asked.

Lorelai sat on the foot of the bed. "He did. Dad and Kirk came over and helped him hang the shelves, but everything else, he designed and made."

"He must be spending a lot of time here," Emily remarked.

"Yes, he has been," her daughter replied, her voice level.

"It is awfully nice of him to do something like this for you, and for Rory," Emily continued.

Rory bugged her eyes out at Lorelai, jerking her head towards Emily. Tell her, she telegraphed. Lorelai smacked her palm to her forehead.

"Well, he does a lot of things around here for us," Lorelai said.

"I see."

"And—"

"And?" Emily said, turning to look at Lorelai.

She looked at the ceiling as she spoke. "And we've been seeing each other," she said. "Dating."

"Really?" Emily replied, and carried on with her slow revolution about the room. "For how long?"

Lorelai squeezed her eyes shut, her expression pained. "Almost two months now, I guess."

"Two months, really," Emily said, as though it was the most fascinating revelation possible.

"Really," she replied.

Emily paused at the armoire to peek inside. "Isn't that lovely," she said. Lorelai wasn't sure if she meant Luke or the armoire but was afraid to ask. "He does very nice work." She shut the cabinet doors and stood beside Rory. "You have both done a beautiful job."

Lorelai stared at her. "Thank you," she said, at last.

She looked a question at Rory as they followed Emily out of the room. Rory shrugged, spreading her hands. Emily wandered down the hall to the living room and seated herself on the couch.

"Hey, Rory, hon, why don't you take your stuff back to your room and start unpacking a little while I talk to your grandmother?" Lorelai said.

Rory nodded. She kissed Emily's cheek and took her suitcase by the handle, dragging it back to her bedroom. Lorelai sat on the ottoman across from the couch and leaned her elbows on her knees, folding her hands. She looked expectantly at her mother.

"Did I hear you correctly that your father helped put up those shelves?"

"Well, he didn't technically hang anything, but he did offer constructive criticism and a fresh, new point of view," Lorelai replied. "But he was here, and he was helping, yes."

"Oh," Emily said.

"He's come around a few times—we've had some meals together at Luke's, at the Inn, and he's been calling pretty regularly. We even had dinner at the house, one night," Lorelai told her, watching her carefully. Her face revealed nothing, and she sat silently. "He's trying really hard, Mom."

"Trying to do what, Lorelai?" Her voice was hard.

"To be involved," she said. "To be family." She bit her lip. "What are you going to do, Mom? Are you going to go home?"

Emily smoothed the material of her skirt, pulled at a loose thread on the hem. "I don't know."

"So you came here?" Lorelai asked.

Emily raised her eyes to meet her daughter's. "It seems this is the place people come to when they don't want to be home."

Lorelai sat up, wounded. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away.

"I apologize, Lorelai. That was unnecessary."

"Yeah, Mom, it was," Lorelai told her, standing. She began to pace. She groaned, rubbing her eyes. "Fine. Whatever. If you—I guess you could stay here a day or two, I could take the couch…"

Emily sighed. "I don't think that is the best solution, Lorelai. I did wonder…" Lorelai stopped, stood still. "Your inn? Do you have a free room?" Seeing the expression on her daughter's face, Emily got to her feet as well. "I am not asking for charity, Lorelai, I would—"

Lorelai reflexively shook her head, rolling her eyes. She tucked her hair behind her ears and put her hands on her hips, looking at the floor, gathering herself in. "You can stay at the Inn, Mom. We'll—we'll work something out. I might have a business proposal for you."

"A business proposal," Emily said, puzzled.

Again, Lorelai shook her head. "I'll talk to you about it later. Do you want to hang out here awhile, or do you want to go to the inn now?"

Emily looked about her uncertainly, seeming chastened. "I would like to lie down awhile."

"I'll get my keys," Lorelai said. "Rory! Your grandmother's leaving!"

Rory hurried down the hall. "Where's she going?" she whispered.

"The inn," Lorelai told her darkly.

She wrestled the suitcases out to the Jeep as Rory and Emily said their goodbyes. The drive to the inn was silent. Lorelai watched her mother out of the corner of her eye. She was restless, fidgety. She appeared not to have had a good night's sleep in a long time. Lorelai pulled the car to a stop outside the inn, sitting with her hands on the steering wheel a long time.

"You're welcome to stay, Mom," she said. "I didn't mean—I guess I'm just, I don't know, sad? Disappointed? Weirded out?"

Emily stared out the window. "This is not something I would like to discuss at the moment, Lorelai."

Lorelai took her keys from the ignition. "I'll be back."

When she returned ten minutes later, she was flanked by a pair of bellboys who immediately went to the trunk and retrieved Emily's luggage, carrying it around the corner to the guest house out back. Emily watched them go and turned to Lorelai.

She shrugged. "It's the only room that's not taken for consecutive days in a row," she said. "It's that or we bounce you every few days. If you're here that long."

"Lorelai," Emily began wearily.

"Go get some rest, Mom," Lorelai said gently. "Give us a call later, okay?" She paused before climbing back into the Jeep. "We're going to Hartford for dinner Sunday night. You should come."

"Oh, I don't—"

"Just think about it," she said. "Call the front desk if you need anything, okay, Mom?"

Emily took a breath. "Thank you, Lorelai."

Lorelai spent her afternoon watching Rory unpack, chatting about town gossip and the sightseeing Rory had done, the gifts she bought for Lane, for her grandfather, how the Dragonfly had fared in its first months. Lorelai lolled on the bed while Rory puttered about, organizing herself, arranging her clothes in the armoire.

"Those boots are fabulous," Lorelai breathed. She hung over the edge of the bed, peering down into Rory's suitcase.

"Mine," Rory said sternly. She stood up straight. "Oh. Shoot. Grandma took your good present with her."

"My good present? As opposed to all the bad ones?" Lorelai asked, sitting up. She clapped her hands. "Bring 'em on!"

Lane arrived later with several take out bags from Luke's, and the three girls sat around the living room eating through an orgy of present-giving. Lorelai cooed over her rosary beads and the bracelets Rory brought her from Florence. The novelty Pope she found fascinating, and she immediately placed it on the mantle. Lane was equally delighted with the matching necklaces and tee shirts, slightly overwhelmed by the sheer number. She left just before six to have dinner with her mother, giving Rory a tight hug before she went.

"Mom, there's a whole bunch of other stuff for you, too, but I think it's all in Grandma's suitcase," Rory said.

"Oh, I don't care about the presents," Lorelai told her. "I'm just glad you're home."

"Liar," Rory said.

It wasn't long after Lane left that Rory began to fade, her chin drooping to her chest, her words swallowed in yawns. Lorelai insisted she go to bed and shut the door, try to catch up on her sleep and beat the jet lag as best as she could. She pulled Rory to her feet, kissed her forehead, and turned her towards her bedroom.

Rory hesitated at the end of the hall. "Mom?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Thank you."

"What for?"

Rory looked down a moment before answering. "For today. For my room, and the journal, and everything. For not, you know, pushing."

Lorelai nodded slightly. "You're welcome, sweets. Whatever you need, you let me know."

"I love you, Mom."

"Love you, too. Now, go to sleep."

Luke could see Lorelai before she saw him. She had curled up in a corner of the porch swing, clutching a coffee mug in both hands. The lamplight from the living room shone behind her—she was a silhouette in the darkness, a dim outline against the soft glow inside. He crossed the lawn towards her, almost beside her before she realized he was there. She turned her face up to him.

"Hey, you," she said softly.

He kissed her as he sat beside her, pulling her close. She settled her head against his shoulder, stretched across the swing, his arm supporting her back.

"Hey, love," he said.

She closed her eyes. With his free hand, he took the coffee mug from her and set it on the windowsill behind them. She laughed, her eyes still closed, and took his hand in hers. He cupped her shoulder with his other hand, absently tracing circles on her skin with his thumb.

"Sometimes, I just like to hold the coffee," she said.

"You are all kinds of strange," he told her. "I thought you'd be inside with Rory."

She opened her eyes. "She's sleeping." Lorelai paused. "She's different."

"How?"

Lorelai shifted slightly, tucking herself under his arm more securely, pressing her cheek against the collar of his shirt, her forehead just brushing his jaw. "She's grown up," she whispered.

He held her tightly, both arms around her, cradling her against his chest. "She always was," he told her.

"No, but this is—really, now, you know? She's grown up," she said again, her voice thick with tears. "I know she's always been—she's Rory, and she's always had that old soul, but she's just—she's more than that now. I don't know where my baby girl went."

Luke stroked her hair, shushing her. "It was going to happen eventually, you know that."

"I know, but did it have to happen so soon?" she wailed. "And I didn't—I wasn't even there."

"Sure you were," he said.

She lifted her head slightly. Her eyes were red, her cheeks wet. She sniffed. "Say what?"

"You think she goes anywhere without taking you with her, in one way or another?" he asked her. "That she doesn't have your voice in her head, same way you've got hers?"

Lorelai wiped the cheek with the back of her hand and thought about this. "Maybe," she said.

Luke kissed her forehead. "Trust me," he said. "There wasn't a thing I didn't do or think of doing growing up that I didn't hear my dad's opinion on. I did what I was going to do anyway—" Lorelai laughed. "—but I always knew what he'd say. He was always there. Just like you are for Rory."

"Do you still have that?" she asked.

He shrugged slightly. "I guess I do."

Lorelai leaned her head back again, sighing. "Still. She wasn't supposed to grow up so fast."

"You can't stop that, Lorelai."

She began to laugh. "No, Luke, you can't fence time," she said. "I really hate that 'Suds in the Bucket' song." She stopped. "Fuck me, now it's going to be stuck in my head again."

Luke chuckled. "She's going to be just fine, you know that," he told her.

"She already is," Lorelai said. "She's Rory." She tilted her head back and kissed his cheek. "Let's just sit here awhile, okay?"

They sat silently, rocking the swing. Lorelai didn't know what time it was when she woke, or what it was that woke her. She looked about, confused. The sky was overcast, a murky black, the yard too dark for shadows. She struggled to sit up and shook Luke slightly. He yawned, opening his eyes.

"Oh, damn," he said. "What time is it?"

She rose, holding out her hands to him. "Don't know. Let's go to bed."

He passed his hand over his face, got his bearings. He stood and pointed towards the road. "I'm going to go back to my place."

"What? Luke, it's like—I don't know what time it is, but it's the middle of the night and it is ridiculous for you to walk all the way home. Just stay over."

"Ah, I don't know—I think I should go."

"Because of Rory? Luke, she so doesn't care," Lorelai said.

He scratched his jaw, yawning again. "I just don't feel comfortable, is all."

"You're serious," she said. "Come on, Luke. Just stay. Please?"

He drew her into a long, soft kiss. "Call me in the morning, huh?" he said.

Lorelai hugged him, her arms around his neck, her chin on his shoulder. "I love you, you big dope," she said.

He lifted her off her feet, his arms wrapped firmly around her. "I love you."

Lorelai watched him down the drive, waiting till he turned the corner towards town to go inside. When he'd gone, she went inside and turned off the lights, slowly making her way to her room, alone.