This is the first time I wrote two long chapters in a roll in such short period of time. So it might feel rushed. But I know I definitely can't find time to write once school starts, so I hope this will tie you over for now. Titles ripped off a song title from one of my favourite Japanese artists – Utada Hikaru. Though I can't understand a single of word of her lyrics, her music rocks! Leave a review … or something.
Spoiler: I officially follow the show up till A Deep Fried Korean Thanksgiving. That's because Jess was an absolute ass after that point. But that is not to say I won't incorporate tiny facts from the show (i.e. Rory and Paris went to Yale) gleamed after that point.
Disclaimer: Gilmore Girls do not belong to me, it belongs to some higher beings in the WB food chain. Get it!
Dedication: To Reeka and the Trory Troupe at ff. Your magnificent writings and fanarts helped inspire every single word of this story. Love ya all!
Have you ever had that dreadful feeling of anticipation? The feeling that something big will happen soon? The feeling of utter helplessness? The feeling that if you had a choice, you'd run away this instant, despite knowing that running away wouldn't make the problem go away? It's like waiting in line for a flu shot or the half hour prior to a final exam. You knew that 3 minutes or 3 hours later, everything would be fine and life would go on as before.
But for this moment, you couldn't control your feelings of dread. Your heart had that sinking feeling. Your brain was too preoccupied to process information properly. Perhaps whoever came up with the phrase, "the anticipation is killing me" deserved more credit for accurately portraying this moment.
This was exactly what Rory was going through.
She tried to think of something else as she navigated around the Met to keep her mind off of her present predicament. She thought of her mother, who gave everyone an aneurysm when her home pregnancy kit gave a false positive. She thought of Luke, who clearly couldn't deal with another teenager after Jess, who went and made a cradle anyway while her mother waited for her period. She thought of Jess, who started looking for abridged versions of children classics in the used bookstore even though the idea of "those two doing the nasty" freaked him out. She thought of the elevation and disappointment they experienced when they did all of this for nothing.
They were all amusing images. But still she couldn't distract herself for too long. Once her mind had settled down between bouts of inner laughter, she would think of tonight's dinner. Even though she was looking forward to this dinner since yesterday, she still couldn't help but dread it. And her palms were awfully sweaty. Mainly because she didn't know what to expect of the DuGrey men. Or what to expect of herself. Would she say or do something idiotic? Would she embarrass herself in front of them trying to make unfunny wisecracks?
She wished she could run.
Once again, she tried to think of something else other than the impending doom. As she waited patiently for the elevator, her mind thankfully wandered to her conversation with Tristan last night. She was getting ready to call him when her phone rang. They exchanged pleasantries and she got a few laughs when she told him about Kirk's latest entrepreneurial attempt. Soon, they approached the topic that was on both of their minds.
"I was just talking to Christian. He said he saw you today."
"Yeah. I was at the library for an assignment. We went for coffee afterwards." She paused to gauge his response. When she got nothing, she added, "Actually he had coffee. Christian had the audacity to get me hot chocolate. Hot chocolate! And when I asked him, he admitted to knowingly withholding caffeine from me. You're right, that brother of yours is evil!"
He chuckled at the image, "Well he doesn't know you as well as I do. He never saw you in a caffeine withdrawal rampage. But before I get too distracted badmouthing my brother, let's talk about tomorrow. Chris told me that he invited you over for dinner." Unexpectedly, Tristan sounded like he was anxiously anticipating the event. In a good way. She didn't know why she expected otherwise. Perhaps his recent remoteness had thrown her off.
"You're fine with the idea?"
"What I'm not fine with is Chris's big mouth especially when I'm suppose to be the one to extend the invitation." Rory could picture him roll his eyes at his big brother. "But yeah I'd love to introduce you to gramp. I've actually given this some thought and I've been waiting for the chance to bring it up. Gramp had heard enough stories of you and he can't wait to finally meet you. But I never asked because I thought I would come across as too eager." She somehow had the image of Tristan scratching the back of his head out of nervousness. "So … do you want to come over for dinner tomorrow night?"
"Sure." It sounded a lot better hearing the invitation from Tristan himself. Before, she felt weird for wanting to go without discussing with Tristan first. "But we don't have to do this if you don't feel comfortable with it."
"I wanted this to happen." He said firmly, dispelling all her doubts.
"Okay. I can meet you at the Met after work and we can go together."
And that explained why she kept biting her lower lip fretfully as the elevator brought her to Tristan's floor. Rory was greeted with the familiar sight of Tristan's floor and the receptionist now knew her well enough to give her a knowing smile when she walked by. But she paid little attention to that. The erratic beatings of her heart had taken up too much of her concentration.
When she reached Tristan's office, she saw the man leaning against his bookcase consulting his little green copy of Euripides. His desk was still as messy as before … if not messier. Upon seeing her, Tristan immediately put away his book and pulled her against him. She easily buried herself in his embrace. The event from previous day snaked into her mind, but it quickly dissipated when they shared a quick kiss.
Rory unwittingly compared Tristan and Christian, coming to the conclusion that their differences were actually quite obvious. Perhaps because she knew to look for it, perhaps because she was more attuned to the details. Whatever the reasons could be, she noticed a sense of security and comfort with Tristan that cannot be reciprocate by other people. Looking back, she couldn't believe she made that kind of mistake yesterday when all the clues were right there.
From that moment on, she stopped thinking about yesterday's misadventure.
Afterwards, she picked up the book that he was reading and perked up at the title, "I remember writing an essay on justifying Medea's killing of her children back in college. I got an A on it."
"What, no A+?" His teasing was swiftly replied with her hitting his shoulder with the book. He didn't hesitate to return the favor as he tickled her feverishly fully aware that Rory was extremely ticklish.
"Gahh!" She squealed. Rory quickly surrendered when she had to curl up into a little ball gasping for breath. Tristan's co-workers were probably drawing the wrong conclusions and snickering outside. But for the moment, the couple didn't care. "Apparently I didn't use enough sources. Whatever that hell that's supposed to mean." She channeled vitriol towards her old classics prof once she caught her breath.
"Hey, let's stop talking about him for a minute." He leaned against his desk and draped his arm across her shoulder. "I know I was supposed to say this yesterday, but I want to do it when I can see you."
" … Okay." Rory didn't know how to respond to the sudden seriousness of his voice and the way he dipped his head down.
"I know I've been acting a little distant lately and I keep forgetting to return your calls. And I'm sorry about that. It's just, work had been crazy and …"
"Tristan, you don't have to explain. And you don't have to apologize either." She interrupted him, "You had a huge project to organize, and if I was in your place, I probably would do the same thing." She affectionately squeezed his hand.
True, she felt a little left out with him ignoring her lately, but she understood the circumstances. That's why she didn't mention his lack of phone calls during their conversation last night. Nor did she complain to Jess when she had that little slip of tongue yesterday morning.
Tristan squeezed her hand back and thought he must have finally done something right to deserve such an understanding girlfriend.
He basked in the moment a little longer before he bolted up. "I want to show you something." He nearly knocked over the coat rack in his hurry to grab his coat. Rory indulged in the spontaneity of it and allowed him to lead her out of the office. He didn't even wait for the elevator. Instead, he opted to run down the stairs. When he noticed that she had trouble running down the stairs as fast at him, he just picked her up and threw her over his shoulders despite her repeated pleas to put her down.
He finally put her down when they reached the basement. She knew it was the basement because of its bare concrete walls and the feeling of absolute isolation. While she took the time to straighten out her skirt, Tristan had taken the liberty to sign her name and his on the security log. The security guy gave time a cordial smile when they walked past him.
Though Rory wasn't easily spooked, the dim space still gave her the chills. She held onto Tristan's hands as tightly as she could as he navigated through a series of corridors that all looked the same. Their footsteps sounded unrealistically loud against the concrete floor. The scene before her reminded her of the prelude to every B-rated horror movie. She could do nothing but trust that he knew where to go.
Soon, her curiosity made her speak up, "Where are we going?" Echoes of her question lingered in the hollow space.
"One of the storerooms."
"Ummm … why?"
"I'll explain when we get there." He led her around another corner and they came upon a series of doorways, each with a numbered plaque above the lintel. He went to the very first door and inserted a key in the lock to open it.
Once Tristan switched on the light, she knew they had come to storage area for paintings and other valuable art objects. Hundreds of paintings were stacked atop each other till they reached the ceiling, all encased in glass for the entire length of the room. The lighting was dim and none of them shone directly on the canvases themselves. He led her past the long rows of paintings to the workshop in the back of the room.
"I never told you the details about my latest project, did I?"
She surveyed the workshop, "Let me guess, try to get the Queer Eye guys to redecorate this place?"
"I'm not sure we have any use for the culture expert here."
The room was surprisingly empty, on account that it was a Friday evening before a long weekend. A canvas was spread out on the table, waiting for experienced workers to tend to it. Even the most dedicate grad students and scholars had gone home instead of poring over mountains of paintings for that eureka moment.
"The Met put on special exhibitions all the time. They were usually more in-depth than the permanent collections featuring a centering on a theme. I thought of this idea a couple months ago." He could not hide his pride. He pulled out a binder from the shelf and handed it to her.
She looked at the cover and read aloud, "Metamorphoses. To evolve, transform, change. A simple word with complex meanings. On its own, it's the title of Ovid's most influential work. Substitute the 'e' with an 'i' and the word describes the physical changes that animals go through during maturation." She flipped through the binder's mundane content, detailing the budget and human resources it required to bring the idea to life.
"This exhibit will center on Ovid's Metamorphoses and its influence on art throughout the ages. There will be sculpture, paintings, cartoons, tapestry and other genres of art on display. We're still assembling the collection. Come here, look at this."
He excitedly pulled up one of the covers to reveal the corner of a beautiful tapestry. Even though Rory could only see a small portion of it, she was overwhelmed by the richness of the colour and the scale of it. She couldn't imagine the dedication and creativity it took to translate the famous scene of Arachne and Minerva. The characters retained their animated expressions despite the medium and the age.
"Sometimes I get caught up with office politics and I wonder why I'm doing this. Working overnights preparing presentations and analyzing research only to have some psychotic half-pint pixie bitch mouth off at me for no apparent reason." Rory had come to expect the colourful adjectives when it concerned Carmen. Thankfully, he usually limited his tirade to a few obscenities before letting the subject go. "But then I come down here or to the main gallery and look at the art, it feels like everything is worth it.
"When I was a kid, I entertained the idea of time traveling. Chris, being the nut job that he was, is, would play along and fabricate stories to go with it." He paused to laugh at the absurdity of his childhood imagination. "When I was older, I realized that time traveling was impossible. So, I gave up on the idea. Until I started working here. I know I'm stretching things here but think about it, what we're doing is not that far away from time traveling.
"Stories of gods and mortals were passed down as oral history among people, either as entertainment or cautionary tale. Each orator would translate the stories into dialects unique to the region and in turn added their own interpretations. This continued for years till this man, named Ovid, came along to compile all of these stories into a book. Metamorphoses. It then survived for years despite censorship and translated to different languages. Then some painter or sculptor read Metamorphoses, imagined a vivid snapshot of a story and created a piece of art out of this image. His or her work survived politics, wars, and neglect and is now right in front of you.
"Four thousand years of history distilled into a glorified rug. This is the closest I can come to time traveling."
Rory looked at the object in front of her with newfound perspective. She stood closer to closely examine the details, careful not to touch it for the fear of leaving undesirable marks or fingerprints on it. "You can't see the future, but you can experience the past through layers of interpretation by different generations of people." She looked at him with admiration. "That's a wonderful notion."
"Kevin thought so too. We suggested the idea to the head honchos and they loved it. They think this could attract almost all age groups and we might make money out of it."
"When will the exhibition be?"
"Well, we're still in the initial stage of planning. We have to organize fundraisers and arrange inter-museum loans. Once those are done, everything will fall into place. The whole thing will take quite some time, but I hope it'll be ready by next year."
Rory cocked her head side ways to see the subtly intricate details. "This sounds like it's going to be a great project. I want to write the story when it's out."
"Just remember, I'm showing this to you as my girlfriend, not as the reporter. Nobody outside of the Met except for a few partnering museums know about this." He showed her this to explain why he had been so busy lately. Even though he knew Rory wasn't the kind of girl that required explanations, he felt better if she knew all about it.
"Trust me, I know better than that. I can keep a secret." She gave it one last look before remembering that Tristan and her still had to drive up to his grandfather's place. "But I think we should take off now. I don't want to be late the first time I meet your grandfather."
~*~*~*~
Over at Laurel Grove, Christian was enthusiastically pouring himself a glass of red wine in the kitchen. When Marguerite, the cook, looked away, he quickly popped a mini tomato tart into his mouth. Unfortunately, the tray of tarts was fresh out of the oven and it was quite hot. He couldn't help but let out a silent squeak when the hot liquid scalded his tongue.
That little squeak didn't escape Marguerite though. She quickly hovered around Christian.
"That serves you right." Upon seeing Christian helping himself to another mini tart, she promptly hit his hand so the tart dropped back onto the tray. Marguerite had been cooking for the DuGreys ever since the twins were born. Naturally, she fussed over them in a motherly way whenever they're around. She continued to treat them like 5 year olds even though they were grown men now. Of course, that was partially due to the twins acting like 5 year olds around her. "Those are appetizers for later."
"Well, I can't help it. Your cooking is so good." He stopped fanning his tongue to fake innocence.
She wiped her hands on her apron and affectionately pinched his cheeks. "Always the sweet talker." Her smile accentuated the fine lines around her eyes. The cook turned around to finish tossing the salad.
Once more, Christian tried to sneak a tomato tart into his mouth. Once more, his attempt was thwarted by the cook. She plucked the mini tart out of his hands and placed it back on the tray. "Out! Out of my kitchen you little rascal." She cheerfully kicked him out of the kitchen.
Janlen DuGrey leaned on his cane and watched on amusingly as Christian stumbled out of the kitchen. "Marguerite caught you again?" He asked even though he knew what the answer would be to such a question.
"She has eyes growing out of the back of her head. And she smacked me. Hard!" Christian bemoaned. He held his hand out as if to expect sympathy from his grandfather. But the elder DuGrey just shook his head at the familiar sight. Christian followed him to the living room and helped him settled into the couch. He mirrored his grandfather's comfortable way of sitting back deep into the seat.
"That serves you right for stealing food straight under her nose." He laughed. "You should know better after all these years. How's the magazine coming along?"
"We're not making money yet." He didn't sound particularly bothered by that.
"Well, it's still too early. It's been, what? A month? Wait a little longer. Wait till more people read it, or hear about it. Tristan sent me a copy a couple weeks ago. There's some good, in-depth reporting there."
"I thought so too. We just got the stats and it said the subscription base is increasing and we signed on more advertisers. Hopefully the trend will continue. I have faith in the magazine."
"Do you still assume editorial control?"
"Yep. I want to set the tone of the magazine early on, but that's no guarantee to what will happen in the future"
"What's going on?" As usual, nothing escaped his grandfather. Janlen picked up the hint of doubt in his voice.
"I like working at the magazine right now. Despite the rampant JFK Jr. jokes, I have fun there. I feel like I'm actually doing something that I want to do, and I'm surprisingly good at it." He swirled his glass of red wine and take a sip of it. "But dad has been persistent lately …"
"He still wants you to take over?"
"Either me or Tristan. But Tristan is doing quite well at the Met and me … well, he thinks I'm just fiddling around with the magazine. He thought I just needed the time to 'find my true calling' and sooner or later that'll translate to me crawling back to him. But the thing is, I'm happy right now. I don't want to work for him and honestly, real estate bores me to death."
"Well, your father was a big believer in nepotism." Christian shot him a sarcastic "you think?" look. "He just didn't want to see his years of hard work handed over to some stranger. So you have no intention of going back?"
"Not for now, or the foreseeable future. I'm happy with what I'm doing right now and I don't want to abandon it. Yet."
"I can try talking to him and see if he's willing to hold it off for a bit. But eventually you'll have to tell him yourself."
Janlen had always served as the go-between between Steven DuGrey and his sons. Perhaps that was because both Tristan and Christian felt closer to their grandfather than to the father. He could see why. Steve was a workaholic and he barely spent time with his family. The neglect had sparked many violent fights with his wife and it was one of the reasons behind the divorce. Regardless, Tristan and Christian had come to depend on their grandparents for advice and attention.
"I will … just … not now. I wish I wouldn't have to worry about it permanently. But knowing dad, he'll get his way eventually."
"That's not always true."
"Both Tristan and I got our MBA didn't we? Even though he started with classical studies and me with political science. If our dad was somebody else, Tris would probably go to grad school and write his thesis on the discovery of Troy and I'd probably go to law school." He ran his hand through his hair. "He's the only father I know that discourages his son from going to law school."
"It worked out for the both of you. I'm sure things will be harder for Tristan and you if you pursue your current careers without your MBAs. It gives you an extra edge. But both of you went to the university of your choice. That in itself is no small feat."
"I guess. I still remember him hanging up on me when I told him I wasn't coming home to start my semester at Yale."
The twins both applied to Yale. Though they were accepted, they had no intention of going. It was a symbolic gesture that they hoped could pacify their father. Unfortunately, Steve took the gesture too seriously and thought both of his sons were going to continue the family tradition. It wasn't until two weeks before the beginning of the semester did Christian brave the heat and tell him. Tristan followed suit soon after. As expected, he exploded on both occasions. Janlen had to placate the father and dispense emotional therapy to the sons after the ordeal.
"At least you got to do it on the phone. Tristan had to do it in person and he said the vein was actually throbbing with a life of its own." Janlen chuckled at the absurdity of the image. The boys told him of their plans before they told their dad. For a very simple reason. Grandpa was always supportive of their choices and he firmly believed in free will; dad got mad if things didn't happen according to his way.
Also, dad had "the vein." It was a strategically located vein above his left eye that made a timely appearance whenever Steve was on a rampage. It looked particularly menacing when the twins were young. Janlen came up with the rather descriptive and unimaginative name to sooth the crying boys. Now that they're older, they liked to make fun of it and their grandfather often joined in.
Luckily, it was probably from a recessive gene unique to Steve.
"See, that's why I don't get him. I knew you went to Yale on scholarship and he went there because of the alumni association. But I never see why we have to go as well. You'd think he's more ecstatic with our decisions. Harvard and Cambridge are … respectable universities."
"The problem with your dad is his need to be in control. He wanted you guys be brought up in a very specific way, but you left with your mom and Tristan ended up with a brief stint in military school. These should never have happened according to him. The thing with Yale was his last attempt to exert control. And it understandably backfired, because he didn't realize that you're old enough to make you own choices and live with the consequences."
"The way I saw it, I had a good reason for going to Cambridge. I wanted to stay close to mom. And Tristan, well, Tris wanted to go to Harvard to look for Rory. A stupid reason, but a reason nonetheless. Which is ridiculously ironic seeing that Rory went to Yale." He carelessly joked.
"You better keep you mouth shut when she's here later. Tristan will kill you if she knows about it."
"Trust me, I know better than that. I can keep a secret." He thought of the string of "secrets" he was supposed to keep. "But compare this to other things that Tris keeps secret from her, this won't be the biggest. Nor will it be the most important." The room fell into an unsettling silence as they contemplated the truth behind it. Christian finished his wine in one swift gulp. "Rory is a nice girl. I hope Tris knows what he's doing."
Janlen solemnly agreed, "Let's hope he won't screw this over." Tristan's previous relationship failure was still fresh on their minds. It wasn't as if they could easily forget that disaster.
The ringing doorbell shocked them out of their reverie. Christian helped his grandfather up and handed him his cane. "I need another glass of wine." He looked dazed, as if he needed the alcohol to numb those memories.
Janlen shifted his weight around and looked at Christian's retreating figure. The impatient ringing of the doorbell reminded him that the butler was on vacation. He slowly walked down the hall and when he walked past the mirror, he unconsciously stopped to fix the collar of his shirt. Unknown to Rory, he was just as nervous at meeting her himself.
He opened the door to his tall blond grandson and the famed Rory Gilmore holding a bouquet of yellow tulips. Tristan immediately hugged his grandfather as usual, he then introduced her, who nervously stepped up to shake his hand.
"Good evening Mr. Dugrey. I didn't know what to bring and Tristan forbade me to bring a bottle of wine or a dessert. So I thought of these." She said as she handed him the flowers. "He said you liked yellow tulips."
"The first place we went sold out. The flowers from the second place looked 'anemic.' And we had to drive out of our way to get these. That's why it took us this long to get here." Tristan said as if he just completed the Odyssey.
"These are beautiful." It was a bouquet of about 50 tulips tied together by a simply elegant yellow ribbon. "Why are you guys still standing here? Come on in, dinner is ready in five minutes. I'll put these in water." Tristan closed the door behind him.
Once Mr. DuGrey left, Tristan squeezed her hand and whispered into her ear, "See, I told you my gramp will love you."
Christian chose this moment to walk into them interpreting the innocent gesture as something more. "Whoa! Separate seats you guys. Grandpa is in the next room." He joked. Tristan jokingly punched his brother's shoulder almost spilling his glass of wine.
"I'm sure you remember my nutcase brother."
Christian wanted to wink at her, but he afraid that the innocent gesture would set off another hysterical attack. So instead he just sarcastically laughed, "Funny. I can't believe you're still hanging out with this bloody git." He told Rory. Tristan attempted to slap him again but Christian blocked him and tried to hit him instead. They quickly engaged in an amusing slapping fight.
At the sound of their grandfather's approaching footsteps the twins immediately stood straight. But nothing escaped his eyes. He quickly apologized to Rory, "Those two barbarians, you leave them alone for a moment and they start to look like Tarzan with clothes." Mr. DuGrey slipped her hand in the crook of his arm, "Please ignore them. Let's come this way to the dining room."
While Mr. DuGrey listed the night's menu to Rory in mischievous anticipation, she couldn't help by feel that the boys were sticking their tongues at each other immaturely behind their back. At the thought of that, she couldn't suppress the inner laughter. Boys will be boys.
~*~*~*~
The dinner went by smoothly and their hearty appetite helped polish off the entire rack of lamb. Christian wasn't exaggerating when he said the cook was marvelous. Rory couldn't stop singing the cook's praises as she devoured her second helping.
The conversation flowed freely, partially thanks to the wine. Between the four of them, they had finished two bottles of wine. Most of it consumed by the twins. They were not drunk, but they were definitely more talkative. It was the time between sober and outright drunk when people were most willing to share their embarrassing stories. Christian finished his last bite before launching into another story.
"Hey, Tris, remember when we were in grade school and I got into trouble for pushing Jenny Gilbert."
"Oooh! This is a good one!" Janlen quickly proclaimed.
"How can I forget?" Tristan rolled his eyes. An act made more frequent thanks to his brother's presence.
"What happened?"
"Well, I was caught in the act. Fortunately, that was the substitute teacher and she had yet to know our names."
"So this dillhole here told her that his name was Tristan DuGrey." He scoffed. "I was eating my lunch, minding my own business when I suddenly got called to the principal's office. Back then, I thought the principal's office was this scary place with torture devices. So naturally, I freaked out. And the principal wouldn't believe me even though I repeatedly told him that I didn't do it."
"Finally, they got Jenny to the office and she took a look at him and immediately told them that they got the wrong guy. The principal smarten up after that time and it never happened again."
"Too bad for you. You have to come up with new ways to pin the blame on me." Tristan didn't sound mad, but he did give him the stink eye. They look like a typical bickering pair of brothers. There was absolutely no hostility between the two.
After spending some time with the DuGreys, she felt like she finally had a firmer grasp of their personalities. Christian was the easygoing class clown who lived for practical jokes. But behind the silliness, he had a certain hidden wisdom that could not be described. Tristan indulged in his brother's jokes, but she couldn't see him doing half of the stuff that Christian did. He was more sentimental, more melodramatic. He only craved attention from people that were close to him and hardly cared what others thought of him.
And Janlen DuGrey, well from the way he interacted with his grandsons, it was clear that the twins adored him. He treated them as equals and in turn, they looked out for him. They were obviously very attached to each other. He knew every single detail of their lives and she had a feeling that the boys would run to him first whether it was good news or bad news. He wasn't the type to dictate other people's life. Instead, he shaped the boys through gentle persuasion.
He reminded her of her mother.
But even though there was no hostility between the two they still somehow managed to escalate the bickering. Tristan even had a spoonful of crème brulee ready to flick towards his brother. Fortunately, he had horrible aim and the dessert just landed on the tablecloth half way between. She was the first to laugh at that. Soon, they all couldn't stop laughing at the sight.
Once the laughter ceased, the DuGrey patriarch immediately put a stop to the childish behavior. He stood up and put his napkin on the table. Rory started to pile the dirty plate together.
"Rory, don't worry about that." Janlen told her.
"It's no big deal. I feel like I should be doing something for all the great food that I was treated to."
"Mary-Kate and Ashley here can clear the table." The twins immediately projected a pained and indignant look at the sound of that. "That's punishment for starting a food fight. Why don't you come with me to the library. I can show off my Dean Martin record and I can tell Marguerite to bring the coffee tray over."
Tristan knew that it was his grandfather's way of requesting some alone time with Rory. That's why he held back his brother's protest and handed his grandfather his cane. Those two left the room with Rory holding onto Mr. DuGrey's arm like before. He whispered something to her and she laughed politely at that. The scene felt more natural than it should be. It was as if she was family all along.
As they brought the dirty plates over to the kitchen, Christian told him, "I think grandpa adores her."
"Good. You should see her earlier, she was so worried about her first impression."
In the background, the music slowly soaked through the atmosphere and he smiled at the thought of those two enjoying each other's company. He felt delightfully proud for introducing her to his grandfather.