Gilmore Girls
These Things I Know
A/N: Boy, am I on a roll or what? I'll just have you know that I have a million different story ideas and one-shot ideas that have probably already been done or will be by the time I finish this but I'm giving them up to work on this. Happy reading! Genevra.
Summary: You might finally have what you thought you always wanted but the truth is this- you don't know what you've got 'til its gone.
Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I affiliated with Gilmore Girls in anyway.
Chapter Ten: L'Appartmente
"Are you sure you want to go?" Lorelai asked, looking out Rory's bedroom window at the swirling snow. It had started snowing the day Logan had left the hospital and had continued steadily the entire week since. Rory dropped a sweater, mid-fold, and walked over to stand behind her mother.
"It's not forever," she pointed out. "And besides, it's New York. It's my dream."
"Was your dream," Lorelai sighed.
"It still is," Rory said, her voice adamant. She was trying so hard to make herself believe that and Lorelai could tell.
"I know but New York. Really? After everything that's happened?" Lorelai asked.
"If going to New York is going to save my marriage, I'm going to go," Rory replied. "I know you understand that. I'd go to the ends of the earth for that."
"Even Paris?" Lorelai asked. "Because that would be hell."
"Even Paris," Rory replied. "Hell-ish as it seems."
"I'm just going to miss you, is all," Lorelai admitted.
"Aww. You're too sweet," Rory smiled.
"I think you misunderstand me. I just meant that I'm going to miss having someone to do all those crazy things with but I know that soon enough, I'll get over that and I'll forget you even existed. Or maybe, I'll even find a Rory clone and she'll be even better than the original."
"Hey!" Rory pouted as Luke appeared in the doorway. "That's unfair."
"Yeah, well, get over it. Ok, ultimate Pulp Fiction joke," Lorelai said, changing tack suddenly. Three tomatoes are walking down the street- a poppa tomato, a momma tomato, and a little baby tomato. Baby tomato starts lagging behind. Poppa tomato gets angry, goes over to the baby tomato and smooshes him and says…"
"Ketchup!" the two women yelled together.
"I swear, I will never understand you two," he said, rolling his eyes. "I bought home hamburgers."
"I like him," Rory said. "You picked good."
"Yeah, he's good for some things," Lorelai agreed. "Food, massages, general slavery and no one hugs quite as well as him on a cold winter's morning. The early nights are a bit of a downer, if you get what I'm saying. Not that I'm saying our-"
"Lorelai!" Luke snapped, knowing her more than well enough to know exactly where she was going. "Burgers, fries, coffee. Eat now."
"Or forever hold your peace," Lorelai continued, as Luke left the room. She turned to Rory. "Aren't you going to miss our witty repertoire?"
"I love you, Mum," Rory said, giving her mother a hug.
"You too, kiddo," Lorelai replied, kissing Rory's forehead. She dragged her into the kitchen and took a seat. "Did I tell you the one about the Pope?"
"No wonder she's leaving," Luke said, glancing at Rory.
"You lie," Lorelai gasped. She ate some fries and then smiled. "How about the one with the three girls running from the law?"
She paused for a second and without waiting for an answer launched straight into the joke.
"So, there's these three women, a red-head, a blonde and a brunette, and they're running from the law. This policeman starts chasing them and they find themselves in an alleyway. There are three sacks and they each quickly get into one. The policeman comes into the alleyway and he sees its empty except for the three sacks so he goes up to the first one, which is holding the brunette, and he kicks it. She thinks quickly and says, 'Woof, woof.' 'Oh, it's just a dog,' the policeman thinks. He moves to the second sack, which the redhead is in and he kicks it. 'Meow, meow,' the redhead goes. 'Oh, it's just a cat,' the policeman thinks," Lorelai said. She began laughing hysterically, so hard tears had formed in her eyes. Rory and Luke watched her stoically over their burgers, which only spurred her on more. "Finally, he gets to the third sack which the blonde is in and he kicks… he kicks it and she goes 'Potatoes, potatoes' and the policeman goes, 'It's only… it's only a sack of potatoes!'"
"She's your mother," Luke shrugged, looking over at Rory who was unsuccessfully trying to hide a smile. Rory laughed slightly and turned to her mother who was fanning herself dramatically.
"Oh my gosh!" she cried. "That's like the funniest joke in the world. How can you not be laughing?"
"I think we're desensitized to anything funny," Rory replied.
"That's not the funniest joke in the world, Lorelai," Luke calmly replied.
"Yes, it is! When I told Sookie, she laughed so hard she fell off her chair," Lorelai exclaimed. She looked at them aghast and then sighed before picking up her hamburger. She thoughtfully chewed a mouthful and then put her burger back down. "I know, how about the lawyer in Heaven? Or the blind man jumping from an aeroplane?"
"Living room?" Luke asked Rory.
"Definitely," Rory agreed, picking up her plate. They started making their way to the living room.
"Hey!" Lorelai cried. "Where are you going?"
"To a sane place," Rory replied.
"But I'm not finished yet," she pouted.
"We know," Luke replied. "That's exactly why we're going."
"Huh! Can you believe?" she yelled after them. "My own husband and daughter. How ungrateful. We'll see how you feel when I'm gone."
-
"Are you really, really sure?" Lorelai asked, as the last of Rory's suitcases was packed into the boot of the limousine. Most of her stuff had been moved to New York already but there were just a few bags she'd kept.
"I'm really, really sure," Rory replied. She shivered in the cold and pulled her scarf tighter around her neck.
"Remember Mitchum's paying for everything so call heaps and heaps, okay?" Lorelai asked, pulling Rory into a hug.
"I'll call so much you'll wish I was never born," Rory replied, putting on a brave face.
"Oh, hon," Lorelai replied. "I doubt that. I wished you'd never been born the first time you got into my make-up and ruined my favourite Little Black Dress."
"Hey, you swore you'd never bring that up again," Rory cried.
"Uh, no. You swore I'd never bring it up again," Lorelai replied. "I swore I'd only bring it back if the occasion justified it and I think that the occasion justifies it."
"When you're ready, Mrs. Huntzberger," Frank said, tipping his hat.
"Thank you, Frank," Rory replied. She bit her lip nervously and tears formed in her eyes. She breathed in deeply and turned to her mother. "I guess this is it."
"You know you don't have to go," Lorelai tried to convince her one last time.
"Yes, I do," Rory replied, calmly. She looked around the winter-y wonderland. "Where did Luke go?"
"He's inside," Lorelai replied. "I'll just go get him."
"Okay," Rory nodded bravely. Her mother kissed the side of her head and left her standing in the front yard of her childhood home. She looked around at the snow-covered ground, to the lone tree that Lorelai still parked her car under and to the chuppah that Luke and Lorelai had ended up being married under. Rory shivered again as cold flakes of snow landed on her nose, cheeks and eyelashes. The sky was ever darkening and the night was growing colder. Suddenly, Luke and Lorelai appeared from the house. Rory watched them and gasped. She placed her hands over her mouth and smiled. "Oh my gosh. I can't believe you remembered."
"Here," Luke said, handing her the picnic basket and a hot thermos. "We thought you might be hungry on the way."
"Thank you," Rory smiled. Frank took the basket and thermos from her and the red-checkered blanket from Lorelai and placed them in the backseat of the car. Rory had always wanted to have a picnic in the back of a limo but she'd never gotten around to it.
"We just wanted something for you to remember us by," Lorelai said, seriously. She nodded her head. "Yeah. Something special."
"Well, this isn't exactly going to top the recreation of the Bangles concert for my 20th, it will go high on my list," Rory smiled.
"You should go, kid," Luke said. "It's getting cold."
"You trying to get rid of her?" Lorelai asked, leaning into him. He rolled his eyes but kissed her anyway.
"No. I know how much you love her," Luke replied.
"Luke's right. If we don't leave, we might get stuck in the snow on the way," Rory agreed. She hugged Luke and smile dup at him. "Bye, Luke."
"See you, Rory. Good luck," he smiled back. He let go of her and let Lorelai gather her daughter up.
"Bye, Mum," Rory said, becoming teary.
"Bye, babe," Lorelai replied, sniffling. "I wasn't going to cry. It just doesn't look good in the tabloids when the paparazzi take crying photos. My face will look all splotchy."
"I think you look beautiful," Rory replied, her mother's joke ceasing some of her own tears. "It's only New York. It's not like it's Uruguay."
"I know," Lorelai agreed. "I just got used to having you home again."
"I'll be back almost every weekend," Rory told her. "Believe me when I say you'll get sick of me."
"Impossible," Luke said. "Isn't it, Lorelai?"
"I suppose," Lorelai agreed.
"I should go," Rory said. "Really go."
"Okay," Lorelai sighed.
"Take good care of her," Rory said to Luke.
"I will."
"And you be nice to him, okay?" Rory ordered her mother.
"Fine," Lorelai sighed, rolling her eyes. She gave Rory one last hug before Rory climbed into the car. "Hey, Rory?"
"Yeah," Rory said, sticking her head out the door.
"I hope things work out okay with you and Logan," Lorelai called softly.
"So do I," Rory agreed, as Frank closed the door. She pressed the button and the window wound down as Frank walked to the front of the car and started it. Lorelai blew her a kiss as she car started moving and the three of them waved to each other until the car was out of sight.
-
"We're almost there, Mrs. Huntzberger," Frank said lightly as the partition between the two came down. Rory rose from her sleep and looked at him groggily.
"Almost where?" she asked. She looked through the window at the unfamiliar sights and remembered. "At the new apartment. Right. Have you been there yet, Frank?"
"Yes, I have. It's lovely," he answered. He turned his blinker on and pulled a card out of his pocket. He stuck the card into the machine and a gate creaked open. "I don't know if Mr. Huntzberger told you anything about the place but there's an underground garage for your car but you'll need a keycard for it. I'm sure there's one upstairs for you. If you don't feel like driving, I'll be available on the same number."
"Thanks, Frank," Rory replied, as they drove down the ramp. He pulled into a designated parking spot and immediately hopped out of the front seat to open her door. She slid out gracefully and fixed her clothes up. A short man with white hair came up to her and immediately took her hand.
"Welcome," he said. "You must be Lorelai Huntzberger."
"Everyone calls me Rory," she replied, shaking his hand. "Lorelai is my mother's name."
"Welcome, Rory. I'm Harold, the manager," he said. "And door-man."
"It's nice to meet you, Harold," she smiled.
"Have you got any bags, madam?" he asked. Rory looked at Frank who had opened the boot.
"I'll take care of Mrs. Huntzberger's bags," he said quickly. Rory smiled at him gratefully. She was sure she was going to like Harold but it was all a little overwhelming.
"Of course. Not a problem," Harold said. "Now, Rory, Mitchum is an old friend of mine and he gave me explicit instructions to take good care of you."
"How sweet," Rory intoned, uninterestedly. She faked a yawn and out of the corner of her eye, she watched Frank laugh. She turned to Harold. "Could you excuse me for a moment? I just need to talk to Frank about something."
"What is it, Mrs. Huntzberger?" he asked, when Rory went over to him.
"Call me Rory," she said.
"I beg your pardon?" he asked.
"I've known since I was twenty. For three years," she replied. "I hate this old-school thing we have going on. If my doorman whom I've known for three seconds is going to call me Rory, I want you to call me Rory."
"Okay," he agreed, looking a little shell-shocked. "If you insist."
"I insist. Now please do something to make the little old man leave me alone," she begged. She shook herself and walked graciously back over to Harold. "I thought I left something back at home but I haven't."
"It's not home anymore, Rory," Harold answered. "New York is."
"I don't know what you were told, Harold, but this isn't permanent," she explained.
"That's not what I was told," Harold answered.
"Rory, it's getting late and you have a busy day tomorrow," Frank interjected, having removed the last of her bags from the boot. "Maybe we should get you upstairs."
"Of course, of course," Harold said, snapping into action. "The apartment is lovely. Top-floor, stunning views. Mitchum said he hoped you didn't mind but he went ahead and decorated it."
"Actually, that isn't quite true," Frank said, when they hopped into the lift. "Logan decorated it just before you two got married."
"He what?" Rory asked, snapping her head around to look at him.
"Umm, I'm not sure that's entirely true," Harold interjected, looking nervous.
"It is," Frank replied. "He planned on surprising you with the apartment and a transfer to New York but then the… incident happened."
"The incident?" Rory asked.
"He only finished decorating it three months ago," Frank explained, lowering his voice. Rory sighed sadly and closed her eyes.
"I understand," she whispered.
"Are you feeling alright?" Harold asked her.
"I'm fine. Just tired," she said. The lift pinged to a stop and they found themselves in a long white hallway with charcoal carpet. It was adorned simply, with a silver gilt mirror and a small table with a thick, cream pillar candle and a vase of flowers atop it. An umbrella stand stood next to the lift door, complete with Burberry umbrella and a pair of black gumboots that would never be worn. Rory walked down the hallway silently and studied a portrait of herself and Logan. It was decorated exactly as she wanted, right down to the frame of the photo. She turned to Frank. "He did all this?"
"Yes," Frank answered.
"Wow," she replied. She let Harold pass her and unlock the front door. It was, after all, New York and despite all the security, front doors still needed to be locked.
"If you're tired, perhaps you can have Marta run you a bath," Harold suggested.
"Marta?" she asked.
"Your live-in maid," he replied.
"I know who Marta is," Rory told him. "I just wasn't aware she was here."
"If you're unhappy, I can let Mitchum know," Harold suggested.
"I'm not happy but if ever I am, I assure you I can let Mitchum know myself," she spat. "Can we go inside, please? I want to see the rest of the house.
Harold silently opened the door and let her in. Marta immediately ran into the room and moved to take her coat.
"It's fine, Marta," Rory said, backing away and looking around at the room. It was exactly how she'd imagined. White walls, light grey carpet. Flashes of pink, silver, chocolate and duck-egg blue. The furniture, apart from the white leather couch and window seat, was charcoal or dark wood. Black framed photos, candles and knick-knacks adorned shelves and cabinet-tops. A granite coffee table, almost identical to the one in the living room at their New Haven mansion sat in between the 'L' shaped lounge, a vase of pink flowers perched on top. She looked out at the terrace and at the French-style wrought iron table and chairs. Fairy lights twinkled and she smiled. It was magic.
"Do you like it?" Marta asked. She had been one of the maid's back at the mansion and she and Rory had always gotten along.
"It's beautiful. It's perfect," Rory sighed. She turned to Harold. "Listen, I'm sorry if I sound rude but I'm really tired. I'm sure there's a lot of stuff we need to go through but can we do it tomorrow?
"That'll be fine," he answered. He tipped his hat. "Sleep well, madam."
"You too," she replied. He let himself out and after moving the suitcases to Rory's room, Frank did the same. She was almost sorry to see him go.
"Can I get you anything?" Marta asked, puncturing the silence.
"Nah. I'm fine," Rory answered. "You can have the rest of the night off, Marta. Go out, if you really want too."
"I might just go to my suite, if that's okay," she replied.
"That's fine. I'll see you in the morning," Rory said. The brunette hurried off to her suite, leaving Rory standing in the living room. She poured herself a club soda and switched off the light before walking into the master bedroom. It was almost an exact replica of her New Haven bedroom but with some difference. The brown leather bed-head had been replaced with an antique wrought-iron bed and the quilt was now white with tiny, delicate embroidered pink roses. The bedside tables and drawers were painted a soft eggshell blue. It was perfect. Girly and feminine and she loved it.
She slumped onto the bed and sighed blissfully. She quickly called her mother and left a message on her voicemail, telling her everything was okay and that she'd call her in the morning. After changing and crawling back into bed, Rory knew she would have to call Logan and thank him. She yawned and felt herself drifting to sleep. The bed was so comfortable, she didn't know if she could even force herself to roll over and pick up the phone. She yawned again and burrowed further into the lace pillows.
She could call him in the morning.
