Written after 6.07. No spoilers. A Thanksgiving side-dish. Bake on high fluff with a dash of sap. Serve immediately or with leftovers.
Monday,
at the diner…
"So, I was thinking about skipping the whole Thanksgiving thing here this year."
"What? No!"
"Well, listen. Normally the only person I would worry about is Kirk, but –"
"Oh my God, will you please, finally admit that you have a soft spot for Kirk!"
"I do not –"
"You're a marshmallow! You know you can't hide that from me."
"I'd rather keep it between us. He came in this morning to see if he could pre-order two Luke's Thanksgiving dinners, to-go, so he could take them home to Lulu and they could eat at –"
"Aww, their first Thanksgiving in the Twickham house."
"Yeah, well, he's sitting over there right now drawing blueprints for a pulley system to go across the dining room."
"Seriously?"
"Apparently they furnished it with a 12-foot banquet table, which probably fits great in that room, but with just the two of them on either end, they have some trouble with 'pass the ketchup,' that kind of thing."
"Playing footsie must be a challenge, too. Look at him, with the protractor! Whoa, how many plans has he crumpled up and flung at the wall like that?"
"Look at the pile on the floor. Every five minutes for the last hour. Kirk, you're going to pick up after yourself as soon as you finish your grilled cheese."
"Yes, Luke, I'm just working out the leverage. Do you know the formula for velocity?"
"No, Kirk."
"So, no Thanksgiving at Luke's. Haven't you given any thought to where I will eat on Thursday?"
"Maybe Kirk will invite you."
"Mean."
"I was thinking I could take the day off and cook dinner at home."
"At home?"
"Yeah, I haven't had a Thanksgiving of my own in years."
"Oh wow, our first real Thanksgiving! Paul Anka will be so excited. He's almost entirely over his fear of spoons. And we've really been working on the peas thing."
"I can do turkey, cranberry stuffing. We'll invite Rory, have her bring that kid."
"Logan. Do we have to?"
"Lorelai."
"Luke!"
"Hey, things are going good with Rory. It would be a nice gesture. It's just dinner."
"But it's our dinner!"
"It'll still be our dinner. You'll want to have Rory there with us."
"Yeah, you're right."
"Don't pout."
"It's my Thanksgiving and I'll pout if I want to."
"Lose the lip and I'll put marshmallows on the sweet potatoes."
"Fine, fine."
"You'll call her?"
"We have plans to talk tomorrow, I'll ask then."
"Good, and make sure she knows –"
"I know, Logan is cordially included in the invite. Got it."
"Good. See you later."
"Yeah, sure, I'll see you later…How's it going, Kirk?"
"If I could just rig the pulley through the chandelier..."
"Good luck, Kirk."
The next day…
Lorelai sat at the desk in her office jotting out a list of amusing anecdotes to have on hand in case of a lull during her phone date with Rory. Keeping in touch had been reduced to weekly and biweekly scheduled calls, which both girls anticipated with equal parts relief and discomfort, but at least it was…something. Determined to keep every conversation moving at Gilmore-pace, Lorelai had started prepping herself before each exchange. If they kept up the banter, the discussion felt almost entirely natural, they even giggled together at moments, and she could end every call on a high note, rather than letting an awkward silence remind them both of everything that still remained unsaid and chasing Rory off the phone.
Lorelai figured she had it pretty good. She had Michel quotes, Dragonfly updates, town meeting recaps, all relatively harmless topics to share. She knew Rory must feel like she had to avoid discussing everything in her life, from the pool house, to the grandparents, to Logan and even her community service. It was the least she could do to plan ahead a little and keep the words flowing so that Rory wouldn't feel the pressure.
When the clock struck ten, Lorelai lifted the phone from the cradle on her desk and carefully dialed Rory's new cell phone number, reading the digits out of her Rolodex. She glanced over her list again as the phone rang. Thanksgiving dinner LOGAN was underlined twice at the bottom. That would be the grand finale today, she thought ruefully.
"Hi, Mom!"
"Hi, hon. What's going on? You sound laugh-y."
"Oh, I've just been looking over this month's issue of the DAR newsletter with Juliette and Elise. They're, um, some of the women here. That I work with."
"Oh, am I interrupting a project? I can call back later." With a rehearsed tone, Lorelai effectively veiled the disappointment in her voice. Her daughter was choosing floral fonts for the DAR newsletter. Not Yale Daily. Not Newsweek. Not even People.
"No, no, they've taken it out to press. We were actually just wondering what the general reaction would be if we slipped a gag proof full of dirty typos."
"My goodness."
"Who would have thought the ladies had such a sense of humor. But, yeah, it was kind of silly."
"No, sounds like fun." Rory had the Bambi voice. Lorelai resisted the urge to propose a dirty DAR joke of her own and glanced down at her list, drawing her pen across the first item as she said, "So, you know that luncheon we hosted for the Connecticut Society of Optometrists?"
"Yeah, how did that go?"
"Very well, the blindfold games were a hit, literally…"
The conversation flowed on and twenty minutes had passed by the time Lorelai crossed the last topic off her list. As Rory synopsized a very mockable credit card commercial, Lorelai sketched miniature devil horns on the O in LOGAN and drew fangs under the cross-bar of the G.
"…Mr. Clean, and the Vlasic Stork!"
"Man, I have got to watch more TV."
"But Charlie Tuna has the best line; he finishes his serving of tuna casserole and says, 'I'm stuffed to the gills!'"
"Now that's priceless. And disgusting."
"Thank you! Lo- I mean, no one else got it."
"Well, speaking of, um, dinner, I guess, I don't know what your schedule is like, but Luke and I…I was wondering if you might be able to come over to the Hollow for Thanksgiving with us."
"Oh, wow, I can't believe it's Thanksgiving already."
"Hey, I can't believe Luke is making dinner at our house."
"That is something. Um," she drifted off, thinking about something. Lorelai pictured Rory sitting between Emily and Richard and a 40-pound turkey. Or worse, alone in the pool house. Probably with Logan, but Logan wasn't her family. For Thanksgiving, Rory should be with her family. Before her daughter could turn down the invitation in favor of dinner – or anything – with the blonde boyfriend, Lorelai jumped in again.
"You and Logan, he's invited, too."
"Actually, I don't know what Logan's plans are for Thanksgiving, with his family, or whatever."
"Oh, okay. Well, do you think you might end up doing something with –"
"Oh, no, no."
"'Cause that would be fine, if you wanted to go –"
"Mom, dinner with you and Luke sounds really nice. I would really like to come home."
"Well, Rory, we would both be so happy to have you here." Home. Rory said 'home.' Happy couldn't begin to describe it.
"I don't think I can pass up the chance to see Luke actually produce a whole meal in our kitchen. Do you think he could put marshmallows on the sweet potatoes? I've seen that in Thanksgiving-y movies."
"You know, I think anything's possible."
At the house…
On Thanksgiving Day, Luke managed to distract Lorelai from worrying about Rory's visit with promises of baked goods and small tasks, like lots of stirring, by his side in the kitchen. They both heard the car pull into the driveway around four o'clock and he almost expected Lorelai to bound outside to greet her daughter. Instead, she slipped her hand into his and smushed her cheek against his shoulder as they continued to arrange marshmallows in concentric circles on the surface of the hot sweet potatoes. She chose to wait, giving Rory time to come of the front porch steps and, after a brief pause, knock on the door. Lorelai clucked her tongue and sighed, dismayed by the trepidation of Rory's approach. Luke squeezed her hand and she smiled bravely, propped herself up, then skipped toward the front door in a much more Lorelai-like rhythm, calling out, "Rory, come in!" on her way.
The girls met in the entryway, Rory pushing the front door closed behind her.
"Mom, hi!" Lorelai was delighted to see Rory's smile. They embraced with minimal hesitation, and before either had time to wonder when to pull away, Paul Anka was between their ankles, wiggling with enthusiasm to meet his guest.
"You're cute! Shaggy cute," Rory said down to him.
"Rory, meet Paul Anka," Lorelai said, scooping the wriggling puppy into her arms and extending his paw to her daughter. Rory played along, shaking the paw politely.
"'Puppy Love!'"
"It was; at first sight!" Paul Anka squirmed forward to lap his tongue at Rory's fingers. "Aww, he likes you."
"I'm very honored."
"Do you like him? I'm sorry, I didn't think to ask before you came over and got tackled."
"Um, I've never really spent enough time around a dog to decide either way. It's probably good that you're socializing me."
"Well, as long as neither of you bite." Lorelai kissed the top of Paul Anka's furry head and set him down. He hit the floor running, his collar jingling as he scurried off. She put one arm gingerly around Rory's shoulder and steered them toward the kitchen.
"He's really sweet, Mom. And I love the name."
"He was almost a 'Tookie,' so it's good you approve," said Luke, leaving over to give Rory a quick hug as she entered the kitchen.
"Happy Thanksgiving, Luke. Oh! Are those -?"
"Mashed sweet potatoes, with a double-decker layer of mini-marshmallows; your mom insisted."
"Listen, Rory, they make the greatest sound when they hit the potatoes." Lorelai dropped another marshmallow into the pan. It landed with a pop and a sigh and immediately melted into place.
"Wow, it looks and sounds and smells delicious."
"We can eat in ten or fifteen minutes."
"Want to help me finish setting the table? That's my job, but Luke really just makes me do it to keep me from messing with the food."
"Hey, I let you stir." Lorelai flipped one hand at him and reached for the good napkins.
"Actually, I brought something for the table," Rory said. She reached for her purse, which she'd slung over the back of her chair. "I know most kids make these when they're like, five, but we've never had our own Thanksgiving table before, so I thought we should do it right." She help up three construction paper place cards cut out in the exact shape and size of her own hand and decorated to look like turkeys, each one marked with one of their names.
"Cute!" Lorelai reached for hers as Rory arranged the other two among the plates and glasses on the table. "I may not have socialized you properly with domestic animals, but your magic marker skills are top-notch."
"Luke's is blue, I know turkey's aren't blue, but –"
"Aww, we'll cheer it up!" Lorelai said brightly, watching Luke over her shoulder. He reacted to her bad joke as he always did; with a wounded 'Aww geez' and an enormous eye roll. "It's very artistic," she told Rory.
"Thank you."
"All right, girls, grab plates," Luke said, revving the motor on the electric carving knife and carving the golden turkey."
"Luke's got a power tool and a blue turkey, I think he's all set," Lorelai joked. Rory laughed as she took her plate back to the table and Lorelai shared a smile with Luke as he laid slices of white meat on her plate.
---
"More squash?"
"Ugh…you mean to add to the stockpile I have under my plate here?"
"Oh, come on."
"I tasted it! I gave it a chance! I did! Rory, Paul Anka is multi-talented, but he doesn't really do that whole 'sneak your vegetables under the table' thing." The dog had taken a post directly beside Rory's chair and had been gazing at her with his patented 'cute face,' ears perked and the tip of his pink tongue showing, since the beginning of the meal. Luke spooned a segment of roasted butternut squash on to Lorelai's plate. "Luke! I'm full," she said, straight-faced. Luke cocked on eyebrow with pointed skepticism. "Okay, fine," she relented, searching for a legitimate excuse, "I might be allergic to squash."
"Just eat." She took a begrudging bite, barely touching her tongue to her fork, just pulling the bite off the tines with her teeth. Luke nodded approvingly and she shot back a snarky grin. "Rory?" he offered.
"Could I take my squash in the dorm of more stuffing?"
"Sure."
"Hey! How come she doesn't have to eat the squash?"
"Hush. Eat." Pouting, Lorelai took another bite and pushed the rest of her serving back and forth across her plate.
"I thought you didn't even like squash, Luke."
"It's not my favorite, but it's a traditional Thanksgiving vegetable."
"Huh, well, I'm for a new tradition. All vegetables served in our household must be accompanied by marshmallows or come baked in a crust."
"I second that!" Rory said, trying to balance a marshmallow on the dog's nose as he sat loyally by her side. He shied away and a whimper when the white puff grazed his nose.
"Looks like I have Paul Anka on my side. It's two against two on the marshmallow debate. So," Luke jerked a thumb at the stove, "anybody ready for round two on the turkey?"
"Oh man, I'm gonna need a wardrobe change before I attempt any further conquests with my trusty knife and fork." Luke raised one eyebrow at Lorelai as she pushed her chair back and stood up from the table. "Stretchy jeans," Lorelai clarified, and, wobbling a little from dining fatigue, headed up the stairs. Luke looked to Rory, hoping to share a mutual eye roll, but she only gazed back at him with utter solemnity in her eyes, as if watching her mother devour Thanksgiving dinner was akin to witnessing a divine act, and then returned her attention to her own plate.
Luke was about to sit down again to his own plate when a forlorn cry came from upstairs.
"Hey, Luke?"
"Yeah?"
"Luke?" she said again, "can you come up here?" Lorelai sounded more distressed this time.
He shot Rory a questioning look and she stuck her bottom lip out and shrugged.
"Uh, coming!" he called back. He jogged up the stairs.
He found Lorelai perched on the edge of the bed in just her blouse and panties with a potato on the front and BAKED in block letters on the back; her heels and dress pants were kicked off to the side and she had peeled her knee-high stockings down around each ankle. When he stuck his head around the door jamb, she looked up at him, her eyes bright, positively befuddled and quite distraught.
"What's the matter?"
"Look!" she yelped, and he stepped into the room, squinting more closely at her legs as she ran her hands vigorously up and down her thighs. "What is it?" she asked as he knelt down at her knees. He ran a thumb over one blotchy red spot. He could feel lumps swelling in patches on the surface of her skin.
He snatched up her wrist and shoved the buttoned cuff of her white blouse up toward her elbow, revealing similar spots on the underside of her forearm. His hand shot toward her collar bone, brushed aside the lapel of her shirt with his fingertips, and found a rash spreading across her chest, too. She scratched daintily with one fingernail between her breasts, then, unable to stand it, squirmed about fiercely, screwing her eyes shut as she tried to fight the prickling under her skin from head to toe. Luke eyed her as she wriggled, the concerned furrow in his brow deepening with wry amusement.
"Does it itch?" he teased, completely straight-faced. She didn't answer, but threw herself backward on the bed and launched into a full-body frenzy, twisting her back and shoulders against the quilt and twitching her thighs against the edge of the bed, trying to create some friction on the spreading hives. Luke tipped backward on his heels and laughed uncontrollably at the sight. Finally, defeated, she fell slack on the bed with a hopeless moan. Still chortling, Luke climbed up on the bed and spread himself out beside her, propping his head up with one hand. She shot a glare in his direction and crossed her arms over her chest.
"I'm glad you find my discomfort so entertaining. This is your fault," she growled, sparking his hysterics again. "Stop!" she smacked his chest with the back of her hand.
"I– I'm sorry," he managed, though he was nearly suffocating from laughter. "It's just, well, looks like you really are allergic to squash!"
"Oh man, you are so going to pay for this. I can't tell you how much I am looking forward to a lifetime of reminding you of this moment, right now, every single time you offer me something green. Every. Single. Time." She flopped over on her stomach in indignation and agony. Luke reached out and rubbed her back.
"Hey, you're right. I deserve a whole lifetime of that." He dropped a kiss on her shoulder and she grumbled miserably into the quilt. "Come on, put on some sweats and come back downstairs, I'll get you some Benadryl."
Luke sauntered back into the kitchen, still smirking helplessly, with Lorelai dragging behind him with a sour glower. Rory jumped up as Luke opened the medicine cabinet.
"Mom? What happened?"
"Luke tried to poison me. Careful, squash allergies are probably hereditary."
"She's allergic to squash," Luke clarified.
"Luke didn't make me eat any squash," Rory pointed out.
"Oh, sure, you didn't have to eat any squash. But help yourself to some more stuffing!" Lorelai said dully. Luke dropped two anti-histamine capsules into her hand and she popped them into her mouth.
"Those are gonna make you sleepy," Luke said.
"Good, put me out of my misery," Lorelai grumbled, slinking over to the counter and dipping a spoon directly into the serving bowl of cranberry stuffing.
"Hey, hey, give me that," Luke snatched the spoon before she could double dip. "If you want to go get comfy on the couch, I'll bring you some pie."
"So now you're kicking me out of the kitchen?" Luke rolled his eyes.
"We'll all go have dessert in the family room," Rory offered.
"You girls go on, I'll bring plates." Rory waited only a beat before linking her arm through her mother's and leading her out of the kitchen.
"Good thing you're not allergic to pie," she said, squeezing close.
"Luke made two different kinds, and I better get a big piece of each." Lorelai squeezed back. "Hey, you know what we should watch?" Rory stopped short, looking shocked for a fleeting moment, but recovering quickly.
"Really?"
"Of course! We have been taping the Thanksgiving Parade Santas since 1989. I added Santa '05 to the montage this morning." There it was again, Rory's stunned expression, like she couldn't believe that her mom had stuck to the tradition. Lorelai said nothing, just stooped down to the VCR, playing with the buttons while she quickly blinked the blur of tears from her own eyes. "You want to start from the beginning?"
"Show me this year's; then we rewind and watch Santa through the decades!"
"Here's pie."
"Yay! Whipped cream?"
"Right here. Fork?"
"I guess."
"Might as well."
"What are we watching?"
"Thanksgiving Parade Santa Montage."
"Our short-film. It's a work-in-progress."
"I thought I saw your mom messing with the VCR this morning."
"Sixteen years of Santa in the sleigh. Compare and contrast from one year to the next. The gold trim on the suit in the 80's, the crushed red velour of the early 90's, real beards, fake beards. It all makes some very artistic statement about society."
"We don't know exactly what that is yet," Rory chimed in.
"We just laugh!"
"All right, roll it," Luke shrugged. The three of them reclined on the couch, squashed together, forks clinking on plates as they ate pie and the Santa montage flickered before them.
---
When the last Santa had waved from the sleigh and the tape went fuzzy and then blue, Rory turned to Luke.
"You really see more and more glitter in general after the turn of the century."
"And fluorescent lights," Luke added, rubbing his eyes.
"Aww, look at Mom."
"Yeah, between all the turkey and two pieces of pie and the Benadryl, she passed out circa 1996."
"Well, I should head home, let you deal with her." Rory started to stand and stack plates.
"I'll get those, Rory. Why don't you wake her up? She'll want to say good-bye. She was so happy you could come tonight." Rory nodded and Luke squeezed her shoulder with his free hand. "I'll wrap up some food for you to take back." They shared a smile and he slipped away. Rory knelt down in front of her mother and brushed her hand, rousing her from her drug-induced doze.
"Mom? You okay there?"
"Hm, what? Oh! Did I miss that shot of the 30-year old elf in the gumdrop suit?"
"'Fraid so. Watch it again tomorrow."
"No, it's not the same," she moped, sitting up. "But hey, maybe we can watch again at Christmas?" Rory looked down at her hands and then smiled.
"It's a date."
"Well, you 'bout to head back?"
"Um, yeah, I should get going." Rory looked very much like she wanted to stay and Lorelai was so touched that she couldn't even gloat. "I'm doing my last community service hours this week, helping out with childcare for Black Friday at the mall." Lorelai gave her a sympathetic look. "Yeah, but it's not so bad. Some of the others have to dress up as elves."
"I guess a lot's changed."
"And, some things, not so much."
"Oh, Rory," Lorelai sat up and pulled her daughter to her, smoothing her curls and rubbing her back.
"Mom," and that was all they needed to say to know that the phone conversations between them would keep getting easier.
"Maybe we can do some Christmas shopping of our own sometime?" Rory nodded, glancing away as she swiped at her wet lashes.
"Soon."
"Okay, babe. Drive safe."
"Here you go, Rory. Reheating instructions on the Post-it."
"Wow, I knew leftovers were like, a Thanksgiving thing, but this is…"
"Well, I don't want you to go hungry. And, you know, you can always come back for more."
"Thanks, Luke. And, I will," she said, glancing between both of them. Lorelai squeezed Rory's hand. Luke walked her to the door, and then returned to finish clearing off the coffee table.
"Hey," Lorelai smiled up at him sleepily as she sunk further into the couch cushions.
"You feeling okay? Sorry, again, about the squash."
"Oh, you are not. Hey, put those down, c'mere." She caught his hand and pulled him toward her. Luke settled in on the couch with her, pulling her torso across his lap and cradling her shoulders as she reached up to stroke his cheek and chin.
"Good Thanksgiving?"
"Great Thanksgiving. Pie. Rory. You." He caught her hand and spread her palm over his heart, looked down at her, sincerely apologetic and still entirely amused.
"Even with the hives?"
"You know, I'm thinking of making allergic reactions part of our own family tradition."
-end-