Author: Summer
Title: Drain the Glass
Rating: PG-13, for now
Chapter Title: Who'll Stop the Rain?
Summary: When Rory Gilmore's broke, she's desperate enough to do anything- even be the nanny to the family of her roommate. But it's the blonde boy she runs into there that makes the story interesting…
Chapter Summary: Rory connects with Normandy and Emilie a bit, and talks with Amelie.
Disclaimer: Don't own Gilmore Girls, obviously. Um, own Jordan and the rest of the Danvers, as well as Sinclair, Amelie, Corina, and Julianna. Also don't own Procol Harum's One Eye on the Future, One Eye on the Past. Nor do I own Bruce Springsteen's Who'll Stop the Rain? Don't own Orwell's 1984. Don't own Bill Gates. Or Microsoft. Or Firestone. Which, by the way, I'm not including to stir up problems. It's just dialogue. Common dialogue. As in, I've heard people refer to "Firestone rollovers." Or Unfaithful. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;)
Author's Note: To Angeleyez, Chris, and Kait.
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Long as I remember / The rain been falling down / Clouds of myst'ry pourin' / Confusion on the ground
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Rory's eyes widened as she glanced at Normandy, sitting in a leather recliner in the study. The seven-year-old seemed almost gothic, her long dark hair hanging over her shoulders as she read Orwell's 1984.
Rory frowned. "Your father lets you read this?"
Normandy glanced up. "My father isn't aware that my reading level is above the Berenstain Bears." Rory could tell she was resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
"Oh. Right. Well, what about your brother then?"
"My brother bought it for me."
"Oh." Rory frowned. What kind of role model would buy a book for his sister certain to give her nightmares? Rory herself had read it at nine, and she hadn't been able to sleep for a week. Of course, Kirk hadn't been much help, since he was in the middle of a "government cover-up" theory having to do with Roswell, New Mexico at the time. He'd been all too happy a few years later when the television show was picked up. That was irrelevant though. "And it doesn't… disturb you?" Rory asked.
Normandy turned her sapphire eyes up to Rory in a disbelieving gesture. "The world's not all hearts and flowers, Lorelai."
Rory nodded. "Oh. Right. Um… where's your brother? I need to speak with him."
"He and Amelie have already left."
Amelie. There was that name again. "Who is Amelie?"
"Amelie Rousseau. Tristan's fiancée. Her father owns Rousseau Publications, which is the number one publishing company right now… internationally." Normandy paused. "He's worth approximately $54.2 billion. Each of his children's another $30 billion."
Rory bit her lip. That was a lot of money, but she had no idea what it meant. Normandy's dark gaze seemed to read her mind.
"If a comparison would help, Bill Gates is worth approximately $40.9 billion."
The little girl knew too much for her own good. "Oh." She was still confused. "How could a publishing company take over Microsoft?"
Normandy sighed loudly, as if she didn't have the time to deal with such moronic questions. "It's a monopoly. Rousseau Publications bought out other publishers, like Penguin, Random House, even Oxford. When you buy out all the larger ones, a margin of their net worth and profits falls into your hands."
"Oh." Like she knew what that meant.
Normandy nodded, standing up. The girl barely came up to Rory's waist, yet Rory felt diminutive next to her. This was a good start.
"Corina has the day off," Emilie spoke up around 12:30. "She's our cook."
Right. Generally people ate lunch. That is, if you weren't a Gilmore and just ate whenever you felt like it. "Oh," Rory started, panicking. "I'm not much of a cook, but I can probably manage something. What would you like?"
Emilie shrugged, twirling a lock of her golden hair around her finger. "Peanut butter and jelly would be okay."
Rory smiled gratefully at the little girl, for choosing something she actually knew how to make. "And you, Normandy?" she asked hesitantly, wary of the answer.
Normandy met Rory's gaze defiantly. "I'll make myself a salad."
"Okay." At least she hadn't requested Chicken Corde Bleu or something equally atrocious.
She helped Emily down from her seat on the sofa, since Emilie's legs did not yet reach the floor. Normandy stood watching her sister, then slipped from the room. "Follow me to the kitchen," she directed.
Rory nodded. Right. Now she was following Normandy around, instead of taking care of her.
Emilie took a delicate bite from her sandwich, her eyes trained on Rory. "This is good," she said between mouthfuls. "Normandy, you should try some."
Normandy stared at her little sister in indignation. "Peanut butter will end up clogging my arteries. Really, you shouldn't be eating it yourself, Emilie," she admonished.
Emilie shrugged. "It's good protein, right?"
"Yes," Normandy allowed.
"And you don't get enough protein. A little peanut butter isn't going to kill you."
Rory watched this display in awe. Emilie was brilliant, and had an excellent vocabulary for a five year old. And Normandy, well, Normandy was a more severe portrayal of herself at seven.
Tristan DuGrey snuck a quick glance at Amelie Rousseau as her mother spoke. Amelie met his gaze quickly and smiled, before turning back to Julianna Averill-Rousseau.
"Roo-sew! Can you believe that, Amelie? They pronounced it Roo-sew! As if Rousseau isn't a historical last name, which anyone who has taken a philosophy or art class should know how to pronounce! And it was in public. I thought your father was going to-"
"Julianna," Tristan started, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure it will never happen again. Really, I doubt it was as obvious as you think it was. The woman sitting next to me didn't even notice."
Julianna Averill-Rousseau was generally a composed woman, someone Amelie could look up to, but she had her moments. After all, she was human. Amelie nodded, trying to assist Tristan and her mother. "Yes, Mother, I'm sure it wasn't. Really, you should be preparing for tonight's dinner. Do you need any help?"
Julianna shook her head, standing up. "No. Between myself and Rosaline, it should be fine. Plus, you and Tristan should be getting back. It's almost five."
Tristan started, not realizing it was that late. "We really should. I promised Ms. Gilmore that we'd be home by seven."
"Ms. Gilmore?" Julianna paused in the doorway. "I don't believe I've met her."
"She's Mandy and Emilie's new nanny. A friend of Jordan's."
Julianna nodded. "And Tristan?"
"Yes?"
"I'd give her the title of governess. It's a bit more… respectable, to start with. Plus, the girls are of an age where a governess is more expected. Not to mention that a governess is paid slightly better, which any scholar would appreciate." She winked at Tristan. "Just a thought, of course."
"Thank you, Julianna."
"It's 7:05."
Rory glanced at Normandy. "It is."
"My brother said he'd be home at seven."
"He's only a few minutes late, Normandy. I wouldn't worry about it."
"I'm not worried. It's just insolent. When you've made a schedule, you must abide by it. Otherwise, you're giving yourself a bad image. You may as well admit to being a Firestone, given their reputation for rollovers as of late."
Rory frowned. She didn't quite see the connection, but she was sure Normandy was looking at the issue a little deeper than herself. "Right."
Normandy froze, seeming to become more alert. "They're home," she said quietly.
"How do you know?" Was the girl psychic or something? The Ring came to Rory's mind. Normandy did have similarities to Samara.
"The chimes. Three rooms over. I hear them."
Rory nodded. Right. That would always work too. Generally, chimes did symbolize the opening of a door. But God, the girl had good hearing.
Rory took an instant liking to Tristan's fiancée upon meeting her. Amelie wasn't a classic beauty, at least not in the way much of Hartford's upper class defined beauty. Her hair was a wavy brown, and her eyes were a pale green. Her skin seemed naturally tan, not in the 'I-spent-all-of-yesterday-in-a-tanning-salon" way.
Her personality was just as down-to-earth. She greeted Rory with a smile. "I'm Amelie. It's nice to meet you, Ms. Gilmore."
Rory met her smile. "You can call me Rory. It's nice to meet you too, Amelie. I take it you're the fiancée."
"Yes." Amelie cuddled against Tristan, who'd stood silently until now.
"I'm sorry we were late, Ms. Gilmore. We lost track of time with Amelie's mother."
"It's no problem. The girls were wonderful. And you can call me Rory, too."
Tristan nodded, running a hand threw his hair. "I hope you don't find me rude or anything, but I'm starving… I'm going to go to the kitchen to make myself a sandwich. Would you like something? Amelie?"
Rory shook her head, and Amelie did the same. Tristan nodded and disappeared into the kitchen. Amelie smiled at Normandy. "How was your day, Normandy?" she asked sweetly.
Normandy shrugged. "Normal. Or as normal as one can be in a rapacious world."
"Rapacious?"
"Word of the day on thesaurus.com. Means avaricious. Or greedy. Take your pick." Normandy paused. "Started 1984. Decent enough, so far. Like Tristan said it would be. A bit on the paranoid side for my tastes, but I'm insubstantial in the macrocosm that is the world."
Amelie laughed. "You know, that sentence is too advanced, even for you. How long have you been waiting to say it?"
"Macrocosm? I read it in the newspaper. Had to look it up. Then I felt like a fool when I noticed it was pretty much the antonym of microcosm." Normandy sighed. "Amelie, I've talked more today than I normally do in a week. I think I'm just going to put myself to bed." She slipped from the chair, feigning a yawn. "'Night."
"Good night," Amelie responded, still smiling. Rory echoed her. Amelie turned to Rory once Normandy had left the room. "Where's Emilie?"
"In the playroom. I was told she could stay up until eight on Saturdays."
Amelie nodded. "That's right." She stared at Rory. "You know, you don't have to second guess your actions, especially to me. Or Tristan. You don't work for either of us."
"I don't?" Rory'd thought she worked for Tristan. This family was utterly confusing. Then again, both the girls were Danvers.
"No, you don't. You work for Mrs. Ashford. She's Tristan's mother, by the way. Tristan's just… stand-in Dad." Amelie shrugged. "Mr. Ashford is a kind of crummy parent, if you know what I mean."
Rory did. "And Mrs. Ashford?" she asked, hoping she wasn't being too candid.
Amelie smiled. "Mrs. Ashford is quite the woman. She's been sick for a while though. It's gotten worse lately. Taken a real toll on Normandy."
Ah, Normandy. "Normandy's not exactly… the most jovial child."
"No, she's not." Amelie shook her head. "Actually, today's the happiest I've seen her in almost two years."
"Seriously?" If this was Normandy happy, Rory didn't want to see her sad.
"Yeah. She even admitted it herself. She was really talkative."
Rory sat down on a nearby sofa. "I don't mean to pry, but the whole last name issue's confusing me. Danvers, Ashford, DuGrey…"
Amelie nodded, sitting down as well. "Jordan and Tristan are twins, but Mrs. Ashford, whose maiden name is Danvers, had Tristan keep his father's last name, so he could inherit DuGrey Industries. Jordan, being female, was to keep her mother's last name. Mrs. Ashford is quite the feminist. But when she fell in love with Mr. Ashford… well, he wouldn't marry her unless she took his last name because of image and everything. So she did, but she made him promise their children would keep her last name. He didn't argue, because Danvers and Associates is more profitable than the Ashford Designer's Wear line."
"Geez. That's complicated enough to be it's own mini-soap."
"Yeah. Pretty much." Amelie laughed, standing up. "I should go find Tristan."
"What did you talk about with the governess?" Tristan asked, wrapping an arm casually around Amelie's shoulders.
Amelie held up the remote to change the channel. "Nothing much. Girl stuff. Have you talked to her yet?"
"Only a little last night."
"She's pretty smart. I think you'd get along well with her."
"If she managed to deal with Normandy for a whole day, I'm sure I would." Tristan paused. "I talked to Normandy while you were talking to Ms. Gilmore."
"Oh?"
"Yes. Normandy said she'd had to explain the stock market to Rory." Tristan raised an eyebrow as Unfaithful appeared on the television screen. "Please tell me we aren't watching this."
Amelie snickered. "You're the only male I know who'd turn down watching a movie with his fiancée where a woman has nude scenes and sex against a wall."
Tristan smiled. "I have you, Amelie. I'd rather watch you than some movie." He kissed her forehead.
"Tris?"
"Mmm?"
"You are aware this isn't going anywhere, right?"
Tristan pulled back, rolling his eyes. "No sex until marriage. Got it. And I appreciate it. But I'd still like to kiss you, if I may."
"You may," Amelie responded. She smiled as Tristan's lips met hers.
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Good men through the ages / They try to find the sun / But I wonder, still I wonder / Who'll stop the rain
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