AN: Thanks to all of you for the kind words and reviews. I'm healing and writing—life is good. :)
The party was in full swing by the time Rory pulled her car to a stop in her mother's driveway. She looked in the rearview mirror at Jane, who was eyeing the house in wonder. Ella was already flinging her door open; ready to get to the party. . . more than likely more excited to see Billy than her grandparents. Unbuckling her own seat belt, she turned to face Jane.
"So, ready for a little Christmas cheer?"
"Sure," Jane smiled politely.
"Do you guys celebrate Christmas?"
Jane nodded. "We do Christmas and Hanukah."
"Wow, that's a lot of celebrating, huh?"
"Mom says she wants me to be well-rounded."
"Alrighty," Rory paused, not wanting to make any truly disparaging comments about this child's mother in front of her, "Ready to go in?"
Jane nodded again, opening her door and following Rory into the loud, packed house. As soon as they walked in the door, Rory moved to a woman who looked just like an older version of herself, hugging her tightly before turning to Jane.
"Mom, this is Paris's kid, Jane, Jane, this is my mom, Lorelai."
"Nice to meet you," Jane said shyly.
"Hey, Jane! Make yourself at home, everyone does, as you can see. Food's that way in the kitchen, and most of the kids your age are showing up the adults, dancing in the living room," she giggled, pointing with her hand that was occupied with a glass of punch.
Jane smiled appreciatively and headed into the kitchen. Rory and her mother exchanged a look.
"She going to be okay?" Lorelai leaned in, watching the teenager go.
"I think she's just not used to all this reckless abandon," Rory commented.
"We need to de-Paris-ize her."
"Definitely."
"Oh, just keep her away from the punch," Lorelai cringed.
"Every year," Rory nodded, moving to find her husband, who welcomed her under the mistletoe as if they'd been apart for months.
"You planned that," she giggled into his ear.
"Maybe," he responded.
"How's the party?"
"No one's drunk enough to truly be entertaining yet."
"It's still early," Rory said, patting his arm encouragingly.
He nodded and they turned to join the rest of the group. It seemed as always, everybody in a fifteen-mile radius had shown up for some holiday celebrating. Stories being told, stolen moments under mistletoe, and gifts that had been promised not to be exchanged were being given lovingly. In the kitchen, Jane was staring at all the amazing looking food, but not touching a morsel.
"Are you okay?"
"Do you know if any of this is vegetarian or wheat-free?"
Billy looked at this girl in confusion. "I don't think either of those apply to anything here."
"Do you know who the caterer is? Maybe I could ask them."
"I could go get my mom. She made it all," he offered.
"Your mother made all of this?"
He nodded. "Your mom doesn't cook?"
Jane shook her head. "My mom's a doctor, which doesn't leave much time for the domestic life," she explained.
"Wow, a doctor."
"Yeah."
"What's your dad do?"
"He makes furniture."
"Wow. That's an . . . odd pair."
"They are the odd couple," Jane agreed. "What do your parents do?"
"Mom's a chef, Dad's a produce man. It's very symbiotic."
"Indeed."
Billy smiled, wondering if this strange creature that couldn't eat any normal foods was Jane. If so, the weekend away was going to be a strange one, he mused.
"So, no meat or wheat? Are you allergic?"
"Mom says wheat makes me puffy. And Dad says that we shouldn't eat anything with a face," she said, realizing perhaps for the first time how weird her life sounded.
"I think you should live on the wild side," he said, taking a plate and loading it down with food, a selection of his favorites that his mother had created over the years. Handing it to her, along with a fork, he smiled encouragingly at her.
"Oh, and stay away from the punch bowl," he added, "Unless you've got a good alcohol tolerance."
"Thanks," she said, stopping to sniff the bite of food on her fork before allowing it entrance to her mouth.
"I promise, it's all good."
She smiled and took a bite, falling in love immediately with wheat, and in particular the apricot, wild rice and bread dressing that seemed to be enlivening her taste buds.
&&&&
Jess came out of the bathroom just in time to see a very upset looking Ella turn on her heel and storm out the front door. Grabbing his jacket, he followed her out to the front porch and slipped his leather jacket around her shoulders before sitting down next to her. She looked up at him, tears stinging her eyes.
"Hey, kid, what's wrong?"
"You didn't see him?"
"Who?"
"Billy. He was in the kitchen, flirting with another girl!"
"Who, Paris's kid?"
Ella nodded, snuggling a little farther into the warmth of Jess's jacket.
"It looked pretty innocent to me," he offered.
"I haven't seen him in two weeks, and does he come to find me? No, he's in my grandmother's kitchen, flirting with some other girl."
"I think he was just being nice," Jess said, putting his arm around his goddaughter.
"He should have been talking to me," she pouted a little more.
"No question about it," he agreed, trying to soothe her. Her temperament could definitely be soothed just like her mother's could be, he just had to be careful to play into their neurotic tendencies before shedding a little light onto the situation. Or what Tristan called, re-introducing reality into their world. "But aren't you maybe, possibly overreacting just a bit?"
She sniffed, looking up at Jess. "Maybe."
He smiled. "Is it possible he was just helping someone who was feeling out of place in this outpatient ward feel at home?"
Again, a shrug of her shoulder. "Possibly."
"I think maybe you should go back in there and let him know you're here."
She smiled again, truly and brightly this time, hugging him. She stood up, letting his jacket slip off her shoulders and headed back into the house.
&&&&
Dave walked up to Will, offering him a glass of punch. Will smiled, took a drink and made a face.
"Damn. Stronger every year."
Dave nodded.
"You brought Mallory," he observed.
"I figure if I'm going to scare her off, I should do it properly and thoroughly," he laughed.
Will smiled and shook his head at his friend. "Looks like Sookie's already getting attached," he observed. He pointed to the living room, where Sookie was giggling and talking non-stop to Mallory, who (thankfully) didn't look terrified at all.
"So, no big date for you this year?"
"First year flying solo," Will agreed.
"You know, that doesn't have to be the case."
Will furrowed his brow, not catching his friend's meaning.
"You thinking I should go the hire an escort route?"
"You're really dense, anyone ever tell you that?"
"Dave, make sense. I beg you."
"Anna."
"Stop."
"I'm telling you, it's painfully obvious to everyone but you."
"Dave," Will said, shaking his head.
"Just, think about it. Please. As a gift to me."
Will looked at his friend, and took another drink of the liquid that burned his air passage before it even reached his lips. If Dave knew what hell Anna had been living through the last few weeks, there was no way that he would be pushing this so far. He knew she'd told her mother, but he was fairly sure that no one else really knew. Probably Jackson, and Stephanie, her roommate. But that was about it. He tried to shrug it off, and he headed out back to get some air as Davey moved off to rejoin Mallory and save her from the incessant barrage of new people coming up to her and telling her stories of Davey's youth.
Once outside, he saw his dad moving some firewood around into a pile to bring inside. It was getting colder, and it was sort of a tradition to have the fire roaring and all the lights out as people told stories at the end of the night, as a sort of winding down to the activities. Everyone curled up around the fire, drinking eggnog and listening happily to the tales of the past.
"Hey, Dad. Need some help?"
"Sure, grab some of that over there?"
Will nodded and picked up the stack of firewood, bringing it up onto the back porch. They worked wordlessly, something that Will always loved about his dad. Not that they couldn't talk, but that they were both content not to at times. There was enough rhetoric in their lives, thanks to the Lorelais.
"So, how were finals?" Luke asked, used to the fact that his kid actually liked school. It'd taken a good number of years to get over that fact, as he himself had hated every aspect of the institution.
"Not too bad. I get my grades sometime next week."
"Merry Christmas, huh?"
"Something like that."
"Hey, you free at all this week?"
"Need help at the diner?"
"Yeah. I need to go pick up Lorelai's present, and I need to do it during business hours, so she won't know."
"Of course. Just let me know when."
Luke nodded, looking at his obviously pensive son. "Talk."
"What?"
"Talk."
Will sighed. "It's stupid."
Luke laughed. "You're kidding me, right? Your mother did ten minutes on why the wrapping paper and the bows weren't getting along this morning."
Will smiled, glad for the lightening of his own mood. "Did Mom tell you about Anna?"
Luke's face grew grim, and he nodded. "Yeah," he gruffed.
"Well, I've been sort of the person that's been there for her. I've been making sure she's okay, looking out for her. We've been spending a lot of time together recently. The thing is, Dave keeps telling me that it's obvious that we should be together, you know, like a couple."
Luke's interest was peaked, but he held in the oh-so-obvious 'Huh.'
"He doesn't know what she's been going through. I mean, she obviously isn't ready right now to be in a serious relationship."
"Interesting."
"What is?"
"You think that if you and Anna got together it would be a serious relationship?" Luke raised a curious eyebrow at his son.
"I didn't say that. That's not what I meant."
"What did you mean?"
Will thought for a moment, his breath now visible in the increasingly cold night air. He looked back to his father and shrugged. "I don't know."
Luke nodded, and pointed to the stack of dry firewood they'd collected.
"Come on, help me get this in."
Will did as instructed, picking up an armful of wood, and following his father into the house, to help get the fire started.