Author: Summer
Title: Drain the Glass
Rating: PG-13, for now
Chapter Title: Girls Keep On
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 Mrs. Ashford, Amelie goes to Max, Tristan and Rory clarify things
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. Basically, I own nothing except my mind's eye. Yes, scary thought. ;) And the song is Lauren Hart's "Girls Keep On."
Author's Note: To Loz. Because she's not even a trory, and she still reads. The sign of a true friend.
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It isn't over yet or haven't you heard / The perfect end that I should have the last word / I'm always trying to keep a face that's brave / Right before the moment that I first begin to cave

Max stepped to the side to allow Amelie in, but she seemed frozen to the floor, her eyes wide and lips pressed thin.

"Come in," he repeated uneasily, gesturing for her to enter.

Amelie nodded and stepped past him. "This is nice."

Max raised an eyebrow. "It's a hotel room."

"Yeah. Um, for a hotel room, I mean." Her eyes scanned the room before settling on the bed. "Uh, you're probably wondering what I'm doing here."

That was the understatement of the century. It wasn't every day a beautiful woman- his girlfriend's sister- randomly showed up. "Yeah."

He glanced at her. She'd sat down on the edge of his bed and her gaze had fallen to her hands. She wasn't talking. "Uh, would you like something to drink? Pepsi? Water? Wine?"

She looked up and offered a small smile. "Water would be fine."

Max walked silently to the fridge and pulled out a Dasani water bottle. "I'm sorry. I don't have any fancy mineral waters or anything."

"This is fine," she murmured, twisting off the cap. She took a sip, then looked at him.

"So, uh, do you want to tell me what you're doing here?" Max asked gently, sitting down next to her on the bed.

Amelie nodded, shrugging out of her jacket. She pursed her lips, glancing down at her engagement ring. "Yeah," she whispered, pulling the ring off her finger and handing it to him. She met his gaze, the vulnerability gone. "I do."
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If Rory had had any doubts after Amelie's description of Mrs. Ashford in party planning mode, they'd been dispelled today. Rory had been stunned when Mrs. Ashford asked for her input after dinner, and even more surprised to learn just how big the Danvers-Ashford Christmas party would be. They were expecting well over 800 throughout the night.

"Rory?"

The older woman's voice jerked Rory from her thoughts. "Do you need help, Mrs. Ashford?" She really wasn't sure if Mrs. Ashford was aware that her job entailed watching the girls- not planning parties.

"Well, I'd love to have your advice here. Each year, we put a huge tree in the foyer, so when the guests arrive it's the first thing they see. It's about fifty feet tall, and all the lights are white. It's classier that way."

"Oh."

"But do you think it should go in the left corner or closer to the middle of the room?"

"Oh, wow, I'm not sure." Rory paused. "Wouldn't it get in the guests' way if it were in the middle of the room?"

"I guess you make a good point."

Mrs. Ashford narrowed her eyes as she studied Rory, making the latter squirm. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

The woman let out a light laugh. "I just realized you've been working for my family- helping to raise my girls- for a couple months now, and I've never had a real conversation with you. And I was thinking, I have an hour before the caterer shows up with samples. Would you like to go out for coffee with me?"

From what Rory had heard of Mrs. Ashford, this wasn't very characteristic of the woman, and it took her by surprise. "Okay?"

It was more a question than a statement, but Mrs. Ashford clapped her hands together all the same. "Excellent."
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His socks didn't match. He hadn't noticed that when he'd gotten dressed this morning, but now, with his feet in front of him on the desk, it was pretty hard to miss. One was black and the other was navy.

"Mr. DuGrey?" Joan called, opening his office door.

Tristan pulled his feet off the desk and sat up guiltily. "Oh, hey Joan. And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Tristan?"

She nodded. "As your secretary, it's probably inappropriate for me to tell you this, Mr.…Tristan. But your socks don't match."

He laughed. So she'd seen. "I was just thinking about that, actually." His eyes fell to the folder she had in her hand. "What's that?"

Joan followed his gaze to the folder and smiled. "I thought you might want to see this. It's the paternity results for Hannah Wilson's baby."

Hannah Wilson. Tristan raised an eyebrow. "She's the woman we brought to the hospital, right?"

Joan nodded. "Yeah."

"Well? What were the results?"

A smile broke across Joan's face. "Inconclusive."

"What?" Tristan laughed.

"Well, you see, Ms. Wilson provided DNA samples from five possible fathers. And none turned out to be the father."

"That's… great." His expression said otherwise.

Joan smiled. "Not everyone's the Virgin Mary, Tristan," she said, slipping from the room.

Tristan's eyebrows shot up. What was that supposed to mean?
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"So, Rory, tell me a little about yourself."

She hated it when people said that. Still though, the woman was paying her salary. "Well, I'm a student at Yale right now, and I was Jordan's roommate. She's the one who got me this job."

"Oh."

Of course. No more encouragement than a simple 'Oh.' Rory sighed. "I went to Chilton," she volunteered.

Mrs. Ashford lit up. "Oh! Tristan went there. Did you know him?"

"Yes." Rory took a sip of her coffee. "We actually had a few classes together."

"I'm afraid Tristan's father was in charge of his Chilton education, so I didn't really attend any events." Mrs. Ashford absentmindedly stirred her coffee. "Did you date him?"

Talk about a question from left field. Rory raised her eyebrows. "Um, no. Tristan and I… were friends." There was no use trying to explain her relationship with Tristan to his mother.

"Apparently you're in the minority then. Tristan was a very sought after boy."

"Yes."

"I'm so happy he's settling down with Amelie though. A remarkable girl. So sweet."

Rory barely managed not to wince at the mention of her friend. She'd almost kissed Tristan, and that was just earlier that day.

"I was really worried about Tristan for a while there. I wasn't sure he'd settle down. After he left Chilton, it seemed all he did was date common girls."

Common girls? Rory raised an eyebrow.

"I told his father that something happened at Chilton. There must've been a girl. Did you know Tristan didn't speak to either of us for weeks after his father sent him to North Carolina? Do you know if there was a girl?"

Rory shook her head, but she didn't think Mrs. Ashford was paying attention to her anyway. "Him choosing Amelie truly soothes my heart, Rory. I'm sure you understand. You are, after all, a Gilmore."
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Amelie's ring was a work of art. The diamond was 7.2 karats, and one of a kind, made by a Parisian designer whose name Max had since forgotten. It could probably be sold to a collector for somewhere around $1 million. That was Amelie's pitch.

"Why do you want to do this?" Max asked, running his fingers through Amelie's hair as she lay across his lap.

"I have to," she responded quietly. "It's not right otherwise. I can't keep it, not knowing-"

He frowned. "Not knowing what, Amelie?"

She sighed and got up so she was cross-legged in front of him. "I talked to Allison…"

His girlfriend's name made his eyes drift to the clock, wondering when she'd be back. Hopefully not soon. This wouldn't look good. "What about?"

"She's my little sister, you know? I'd do anything for her," Amelie went on quietly, as if she hadn't heard his question.

"What are you talking about?"

Amelie met his gaze. "My father set each of us up with a trust fund. We could open it when we turned 18. And Allison blew through all the money."

"Amelie, she'll work something out. You don't have to sell your ring."

"You don't get it, Max," she sighed, frustrated.

Max smiled softly. There was something oddly attractive about Amelie when she was aggravated. "What don't I get?"

"Allison has an expensive lifestyle. A very expensive lifestyle. One that if she doesn't get $700,000 in the next two weeks is going to land her homeless. And in debt."

Max swore under his breath. He wasn't quite sure how he'd entered this world, where the rich and the famous squandered more money in a day than he made a month. God, he only made $70,000 a year. And his girlfriend had spent 10 times that. "Wow." He didn't know what else to say. "Well, why can't she just ask your dad?"

Amelie shook her head. "He can't know. Ally and my dad… they aren't really on speaking terms." Amelie reached out and placed her hand over Max's. "Please, Max. Do this for me."

He stared at her hand and blinked rapidly, trying to wash away the thoughts that were coming to his mind. Thoughts he shouldn't be having about his girlfriend's sister. Her engaged sister.

She wanted him to sell the ring when he got back, feed Allison the money. And never let her know where it had come from. He didn't want to get wrapped up in this. He could get out of this family, go back to being a normal teacher. He'd taken more sick days this year alone because of the Rousseau girls than he'd taken in the last two years combined. And it was only December.

He opened his mouth to protest, but something in Amelie's eyes stopped him. It wasn't just desperation he saw. There was some kind of understanding. She'd thought about this. But what surprised him the most was that Amelie's eyes seemed to possess some kind of respect for him. The guy who less than a month before, she hadn't trusted at all.

"Why me?" he asked, pocketing the ring even as he did so. "Couldn't you have someone else do it- someone you know better than me?"

Amelie bit her lip. "I could." She bit her lip, clearly pondering his question. "I guess it's that I trust you, Max. And I know that if anyone can help Ally, it's you."

"I'll do it," he responded.

A sad smile developed on Amelie's face and she leaned over and hugged him. "Thanks, Max."

But as Max embraced Amelie Rousseau, he couldn't help but wonder if he was dating Allison for who she was- or because she bore a striking resemblance to the one he couldn't have.
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Tristan had had nightmares like this. He remembered his days at Chilton, how after his mom had visited he'd have actual nightmares where she sat down with one of his classmates and bonded with them over what an idiot he was.

The only difference, however, was he'd never dreamed it would be Rory.

He took off his shoes and tried to slink silently past the dining room where the two were sitting, but his mother saw him out of the corner of her eye. "Tristan!" she called excitedly, "Come join us! Rory and I were just talking about you."

Tristan raised an eyebrow as he entered the room, looking at Rory. She blushed and looked away immediately. Okay, so maybe this could be fun. "Hey, Mom."

Mrs. Ashford smiled, patting the seat between herself and Rory. "Come join us, Tristan."

He sat down and Rory shifted uncomfortably, looking in the opposite direction. "What have you guys been talking about?"

"Well, you, a little. And Chilton. Rory's going to help me plan the Christmas party? Isn't that marvelous?"

"Um, yeah." Tristan snuck a glance at Rory. She'd looked up, but her gaze was vacant, cast somewhere over his shoulder. "Are you going to stay for it?" he asked her, forcing her to acknowledge his presence.

"I think so. Your mother told me I could invite my family and a few friends, and since we don't really do anything major for Christmas…"

He could see the guilt in his eyes. Suddenly, all his happiness was sucked from him and he wondered guiltily how he could have let himself forget. He looked at his mother nervously, but she was oblivious to the tension, smiling happily at the thought of her upcoming party. "Uh, Mom? Could you give Miss Gilmore and me a moment? Alone?"

Rory's eyes widened in shock as Mrs. Ashford excused herself. "What are you doing?" she whispered hoarsely, glaring at him.

Tristan simply shrugged, standing up so he was looking down upon her. He watched her as she shifted again, biting her lip as she glanced up at him. "I just wanted to… clarify a few things," he said, his voice surprising him by its softness.

"Okay."

He stared at her for a moment, unable to speak. Her blue eyes were clouded, her voice unsure. "I, uh, we-" He paused to collect himself. "What happened earlier shouldn't have." She raised an eyebrow and Tristan realized how obvious that was. "What I mean is, uh, it was just a moment of insanity. Anything that was there, once, it, uh, died in high school." He hated himself for stuttering. "Not that there was anything," he said quickly, reading the look in her eyes. "I just mean, I love Amelie. I don't want-"

"I know," Rory interrupted.

His breath hitched as she stood up to leave, temporarily bringing her mere centimeters away from him. He looked down at her, his mind wandering back to those days in high school where he would've thrived from having Rory this close, this uncomfortable. He could kiss her now.

She stepped away as the thought enveloped him and offered him a smile. "Amelie's my friend, too. And there isn't anything here, right?" she responded, walking out of the room as she spoke.

He watched her go, bringing a hand to his lips. "Yeah."

Mind over matter would do / If I could just forget that I might be the one to lose