Disclaimer: This is an original story based upon the characters of Gilmore Girls. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit will be made from this story.

Author's Note: Thanks to all for the reviews. I really appreciate them! I hope everyone is having a happy holiday season! I am trying to get this story to Christmas in the story by Christmas in the real world. I'll do my best, but I don't want you to have a rushed story, so if I can't do it without sacrificing the story, than I won't. I hope you all enjoy this next installment!

"Richard, please tell me," I pleaded with him as he tied his shoes. He concentrated on his shoe laces and didn't turn to look at me.

"It was nothing Emily, please drop it," he said firmly.

"It wasn't nothing. You were crying. You don't cry at nothing," I insisted. He didn't say anything, just continued to tie his shoes.

"Richard please, talk to me," I said.

He turned around and faced me. "It was nothing Emily, I'm just stressed from work." He lifted a hand to my cheek. "It was nothing," he said again.

I still didn't believe him but I was willing to let it go at that. We had a busy day ahead of us—well, I had a busy day ahead of me. Hope and I were going Christmas shopping. Richard and George were going to the club to play bridge. I stood up and walked towards the door without saying anything more to Richard. He reached and took my hand. I turned back to face him. He stood up and gently kissed me before he took my hand and we walked out of the door.

"Well Richard," George said as we reached the top of the stairs. "Are you ready to go show these men a thing or two about the art of bridge?"

I gave a little snort at that one. "The art of bridge?" I mocked.

"Ah, Richard—my sister does not have a grasp on the finer things in life does she?" he said smiling at me. I walked down the stairs and playfully hit him on the arm. George was small man, a few inches shorter than Hope. He had grown heavier over the years too, with a receding hairline that had been receding ever since the day I had met him. When Hope first brought this man home to meet the family I wondered what in the world she could see in a man like this. My parents had disapproved of the match, saying she could do so much better, even though George was a practicing lawyer. But, Hopie was in love and she stuck to her guns. It took me a few years into their marriage, but know I really liked George. He went so well with Hope. Even though she was tall, slim and more Parisian, George complemented her perfectly. Though he was raised in the states, France seemed to suit him well and his accent got thicker with each passing year as well.

"Are you ready to go?" Hope asked, descending down the stairs in a dark blue pant suit.

"Ready whenever you are," I answered. George took his overcoat and handed Richard's to him.

"Have fun Dear," Richard said, and kissed me goodbye. "You too," I replied, and last night's ordeal seemed to be forgotten.

George kissed Hope goodbye and they headed out the door.

As soon as the men were gone and there was no one to see, Hope turned to me, "Ready to hit the stores Sis?"

"Yes Mam I am," I replied and we broke into giggles.

We had a glorious time. It was snowing again, which made the air invigorating, the city beautiful, and made me miss Lorelai. All her life I had never understood my daughter's obsession with the snow. For me it always meant cold, slush, and icy road. For some reason now I loved it. Hope and I walked arm and arm along the sidewalks of the different stores, with our packages dangling from our other arm.

"Do you want to get some hot chocolate?" Hope asked pointing to a small little cafe with white lights all around the window.

"Sure," I said and we headed inside. As soon as I walked in the door the most heavenly smell hit me. It was chocolate like I had never smelled it before. "My goodness," I whispered. Hope chuckled and led me to the counter. This place was the ultimate cuisine in hot chocolate. I watched as a fat French woman poured the thick brown liquid into two mugs for the customers in front of us. The place had, milk chocolate hot chocolate, dark chocolate hot chocolate, white chocolate hot chocolate, and orange-chocolate hot chocolate. In addition, they had an array of different flavorings to add, as well as five different kinds of whipped cream to have on top, and chocolate sprinkles and very miniature candy bar add ins. I selected a dark chocolate drink with a peppermint flavored whipped topping and tiny starlight mints that the lady handed me in a silver paper cone for add ins. This was lovely. Hope selected an orange chocolate, with orange flavored whip cream, orange zest grated on the top, and two chocolate orange slices as an add in.

"This place is absolutely perfect," I exclaimed. "Why is this the first time I've been here?"

"They just opened up at Thanksgiving. They are making great business," she said as she sipped her liquid and smiled. We were silent for a few minutes and then she said, "Emily—there's something I need to tell you."

"Hmm?" I said, lost in my peppermint world.

"I talked to Lorelai before you got here." That got my attention. I looked up at her, wondering how much Lorelai had told her.

"I was concerned. I knew how much you were looking forward to spending Alicia's first Christmas at home, and this trip was so out of the blue. So, I talked to Lorelai and she told me what's been happening," she paused and I looked down at the floor, "Why didn't you tell me the dreams had returned?" she asked.

I shrugged, "I don't know,"

"Are they as bad as before?" she asked

"Worse," I whispered and I suddenly felt like a black cloud was hanging over me. Why did we have to talk about this? Why couldn't we keep having fun?

"Emily—I've said it before, and I'll say it again. You need to talk to someone. This is not just a recurring nightmare. Maybe someone or something's trying to tell you something."

I smiled and reached across the table to put a hand over hers. "The ghost of Christmas past is coming to me through dreams that my daughter dies to tell me to get the Christmas spirit—is that it?"

"I'm serious," she said, her eyes narrowing and "the stare" coming on her own features.

"So am I," I said. "I don't want to talk about this right now. Let's just keep having fun."

She left it at that—I always won when it came to a competition of wills—no matter how good her stare was. We went home after that, both trying to make conversation but the fun part of the day had been spoiled. I knew she was worried, but after all—didn't I come to Europe to escape all that? I could tell she was getting ready to mention it again when we walked in the house but her pager went off—saved by the beep.

"Oh Dear," she said. "I have to go. The hospital fundraiser dinner is in three days and I'm in charge of it this year. They have a mess with decorations."

"Believe me, I understand," I said laughing. "Would you like me to come along? I'm pretty handy with decorations."

"No Darling," she said making her way towards the door. "You stay here and rest. I'll be back soon!" she said blowing me a kiss and heading towards the door. "Make yourself at home!" she called as I watched her get in the car.

I was a little disappointed that she didn't want me to come. It would have been a lot of fun to decorate a hall for a function together. On the other hand, it was nice to have some time alone. I took a small nap, and then walked around the house. Hope had such beautiful things. I was on the third floor when suddenly I realized that the house had an attic. I didn't think I'd ever been in the attic before. I didn't want to snoop—well, that wasn't true, I did want to snoop, but I was trying not to want to snoop. It took me a minute before my curiosity got the better of me. After all, didn't Hope say to make myself at home? I walked up the ladder/stairs and opened the attic door. It smelled like an antique store, musty and old. There was a light attached to the ceiling and I switched it on. There were old trunks everywhere. I opened them up one by one and smiled at the baby clothes my niece and nephew had worn and old photographs. There were chests full of old dresses some of which my mother had worn. I put them up to my face and drank in their scent. Somehow, after all these years they still smelled like mother. There was one trunk with Hope's porcelain doll in it. When we were ten and six, Mother had bought us matching porcelain dolls. I still had mine as well somewhere in our basement. I pulled her out and fluffed up her petticoats. The doll still had her sky-blue coat on with the fur month. My doll had a robin-brown coat and I was always jealous of Hope's coat. I turned up Hope's doll's coat and saw the red pen marking I had made during one of our fights. After all these years, it was still there. Maybe Lorelai and I were more alike than I thought.

I was busy admiring the doll when a newspaper clipping caught my eye. It was half out of a box that was tipped over between during two trunks. I placed the doll back in her trunk and then picked up the clipping. It was yellowed and old. I picked it up on the wrong side and so I turned it over. My heart started beating wildly. I was suddenly cold all over.

There was a picture of a child about two years old at the top of the article.

That child was Lorelai.

The article was in French but it took me only a moment to translate.

"No Further Evidence Found in Gilmore Baby Kidnapping" the headline said. I put my hand to my mouth and read on.

It was an hour later when Hope came home. I was sitting in the living room when she walked in the door.

"Emily, I'm sorry to be gone so long..." she said as she came in. She stopped when she saw me.

"What is it?" she asked moving towards me. I took out the article and showed it to her. She went white as a sheet.

"Hope," I said, my voice barely above a hoarse whisper. "What is this?"

"Emily..." she choked out, "I...I...can't,"

"Answer me!" I yelled, and she shrank back, almost as if she were a little girl. Tears started falling down her cheeks. "Emily..." she said again. I stood up and walked over to her.

"Hope, I swear to all high Heaven, I am going to get some answers. Now what is going on?"

I hadn't even heard the door open again. I hadn't heard Richard and George walk in.

"It's time you had answers Emily," Richard said behind me. He reached out and took my hand. "We'll be back in an hour," he said as he took me out the door. The driver who had driven George and Richard to the club was still out in the driveway.

"You," Richard called, "You, I need you again," he said and then said an address to drive to.

"Richard Gilmore, would you explain to me what is going on?" I yelled. He didn't answer, just looked straight ahead, his hands shaking. He was afraid. Even through my anger and confusion, I could see he was afraid. We drove for about fifteen minutes and then pulled to a stop. "This is the right place," he said. He turned to me and took my hand.

"I never meant to keep it from you Emily," he said softly as he helped me out of the car.

All the blood drained from my face as I realized where we were.

It was a beautiful place, full of snow drifts and children playing, but this place only held terror for me—as it had for over thirty years.

Taking my hand, Richard led me into the park from my dreams.