Chapter One

"Lucy would you hurry, we're going to be late, again." My father's irritated voice breaks in over the sound of the music pulsating through my speakers. In response I turn the volume up louder to drown out his complaints, I can imagine the expression on my father's face, an expression he reserves just for me one of total and utter frustration.

"Lucy!" My mother, of course, she's the only person in the entire world who can yell over the sound of my music, no matter how loud I have it turned up.

With a sigh I shove the last article of clothing in my duffle bag and kick it under my bed and finally I pull my door open, face to face with my mother. "What?" My voice mirrors my father's exasperated one.

"We have to leave," my mother hasn't changed in the four some years she's lived in Stars Hollow, at least that's what people tell me. It's amazing how long someone will go on about topics you don't care about and despite the fact that you make it clear that you aren't interested. "We have to be at your grandparents in 15 minutes, they're going to pitch a fit that we're late."

"Don't I get a "get out of jail free card" since it's my birthday?" Honestly I don't care either way if we go to the Gilmore's for dinner, it'll be the last time I ever have to attend and that fact alone will carry me through all of Emily Gilmore's nitpickings followed by Richard's lecture on how important education is.

My mother deflates in front of me before she states, "well I wanted it to be a surprise, but I might as well tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"Rory's coming to dinner," my mother grins and I know the expected response.

"That's great!" I amaze myself sometimes at how well I can cover anything I feel.

"She wanted to surprise you for your birthday! Isn't that sweet? Doesn't that make it worth it?"

Isn't that sweet? Maybe. Does Rory showing up at dinner make it worth it? Hardly. "Fine, we can go." I grab my jacket from my bed and walk out into the kitchen.

"Ah, jeez, Lorelai can you make her change? I don't want to hear Emily lecture the three of us about appropriate Friday night dinner attire because Lucy can't pick out something more appropriate to wear." My father had stopped trying to give me orders when I was 15, he didn't understand me, I'd been compared to Jess more times in my life then I cared to count.

"Lucy, please," my mother checks the clock on the stove again, "and quickly."

I roll my eyes but oblige, I was about to leave them permanently I might as well make things easier on them in my last couple hours living under there roof, but that doesn't stop me from slamming my door on the way back in. I stare at myself in the full length mirror, I don't take after either one of my parents, I've got short edgy and angular blonde hair with dyed red streaks throughout and deep brown eyes instead of the trademark "Gilmore Girl's" eyes. I'm short and curvy and don't have the Gilmore ability to eat anything and still stay rail thin, a trait my mother and Rory have kept even in their age.

"Lucy, come on please." I've heard stories about how it used to be Rory who'd drag my mother kicking and screaming to Friday night dinners and I'm not sure when that changed. When it became my mom dragging someone to dinner with her parents and not the other way around. Friday night dinners started up again when Emily had a minor heart attack, I guess it made the Gilmore's seem more real to my mother, she realized they weren't going to be around forever. That was when I was seven and we've been going ever since. Honestly I think it was all a set up to get us to go to dinner again because I don't think Richard or Emily Gilmore will ever die.

As a pull a dress over my head a let out a frustrated breath. Dinner at the Gilmore's was hell to me. Maybe that's what made going to dinners so easy on my mom, they had me to take out their annoying nitpicking on. I'm always going to be the child Lorelai had with that common man Luke. They won't pick on Dad, I saw the way my mom went off on them the instant they made a rude comment about him when he wasn't around so they have to settle for me.

"I'm ready," I push open my bedroom door appearing in a simple, boring, black dress.

"Good, let's go," my dad jumps up from his seat at the kitchen table. He hated going to these dinners as much as I do, but he goes without complaint because he knows that it means a lot to mom and he would never try to take that away from her. I've got to hand it to them. They do love each other, in a world of divorce they've stood the test of time.

We pile into Mom's jeep wrangler, it's a new one red one, not the same old brown dad finally convinced her of getting rid of six years ago. And as we drive through Stars Hollow I can't help but watch various scenes play through my head of memories of growing up in this small quirky town. But I push all of this aside, it's not time for dwelling on the past, I'll let that happen when the bus pulls out of the station for now I brace myself for the last dinner at the Gilmore's I'm likely to ever have.

"Rory's here, Rory's here, Rory's here," my mother's words are excited and as always when she's around Rory her maturity level drops. Mom jumps out of the car without even taking the key out of the ignition and dad, while he does think to grab the key, isn't far behind her. I, on the other hand, take my sweet time in getting out of the car, carefully watching my parents hug Rory.

Once I have emerged from the car Rory has thrown her arms around me. Time has been kind to her, and you couldn't tell that she was 42 just by looking at her, "Lucy you look great. Happy birthday!"

"Thank you," I grin at her, I'm good at faking an enthusiasm that matches her, I have after all had nearly 18 years of practice.

"This is for you," she thrusts a wrapped gift into my hands, "don't open it right now though. Grandma's inside pitching a fit about how late you guys are. They kids are keeping her entertained for now though."

"You brought the kids?" Mom's eyes lite up at the though of her granddaughter and grandson being so close to her. Rory lives in Chicago and while she comes to Connecticut often it's usually without Charlotte and Mark.

Emily Gilmore is waiting for us in the doorway and she frowns in my direction the instant we set foot on the walkway, "running a bit behind are we?" I watch as she takes in my appearance, her eyes lingering on the red streaks in my hair. She hates that, a fact she made very clear when I had it done six months ago on a whim but with Emily's first disapproving glance and comment it had stuck. And as I step into the house I know that I can take whatever they hand to me today, because the knowledge that this is the last time I'll be here offers comfort.