Chapter 4

I Want My Mother

Out of breath, Lorelai limped through the front door of the Dragonfly favoring her right ankle. "Okay… seriously…who knew Marty the Mailman could run that fast?" Lorelai panted as she stumbled over to the front desk and braced herself against it while she tried to get her breathing under control.

Michel chuckled haughtily. "You should have seen yourself chasing him all the way to his tiny mail car."

"I would have caught him too if my heel hadn't gotten stuck between the boards of the front steps," she groused, attempting to tuck a stray lock of hair back into her now disheveled ponytail. She tucked her blue blouse back into the waist of her black skirt then noticed the skirt had twisted around. She yanked the skirt back into place and smoothed it down.

Emily had watched her daughter's dramatic entrance from the doorway to the library and now approached her from behind, eyeing her from head to toe. "What on earth?"

"Hey, Mom," Lorelai answered as she rotated her ankle cautiously. Turning back to Michel she complained. "I don't understand why every time I try to talk to someone they go running off in the opposite direction."

"Lorelai," Emily tried again to get her daughter's attention.

"Think about it now, is it everyone or just certain people?" Michel asked smugly.

"What do you mean?" Lorelai queried.

"I mean that perhaps it is just people of a certain gender that are fleeing from you," Michel gloated.

Emily noisily dropped the files she'd been holding onto the desk. "Someone tell me what is going on here," she demanded.

Michel remained quiet but continued to smirk, his raised eyebrow daring Lorelai to explain to her mother.

"Man, how did word get out so quickly?" Lorelai said with a dramatic sigh.

Emily's gaze fixed on her daughter, silently demanding an explanation.

Lorelai rolled her eyes and groaned. The expression on her mother's face made her feel like she was six years old again and had gotten her party dress dirty. "I'm just trying to get a partner for the Annual Stars Hollow Dance Marathon. I don't see what the big deal is. Am I some pariah or something?"

"Well…" Michel replied still reveling in Lorelai's plight.

"What?" Lorelai demanded. "What's the town saying about me?"

"Oh Lorelai, I doubt you are the sole topic of conversation in the entire town," Emily stated.

"Well, perhaps not the entire town," Michel agreed, "just all of those between the ages of eighteen and eighty and I believe the word I heard used most often was jinx."

"Jinx? Jinx!" Lorelai cried indignantly. "I am not a jinx! How can they call me a jinx? I've had a few bad years? So? What does that mean?"

"A few bad years?" Michel repeated his eyebrow raised incredulously. "Every year you've entered has been a bad year…for your partners that is?"

"Some of those things were not my fault. How was I supposed to know Bobby Benson had a trick knee. And…and…Sam staying out all night drinking at his brother's bachelor party. I told him to get to bed early the night before, but no. He couldn't do that. Just passed out right there in the middle of the dance floor in hour twenty. I could taste the trophy that year."

"What about the year you tripped and took out three other couples?" he challenged.

"Someone left a candy wrapper on the floor. I still say it was Kirk. All part of his evil plan to take me down. That was the year Kenny Singleton and I were the favorite to beat him."

"Didn't you and Rory take part in this dance marathon a few years ago?" Emily asked.

"Mmm, Rory," Michel nodded his grin widening.

"That was so not my fault. That thing with Rory, Dean, and Jess had been coming for a long time. It was Jess that forced the issue at the dance marathon. Man, Rory and I almost had it, too. No more talk about the past. I'm focusing on the future. This is the year Kirk is finally going down. I can feel it. It's my year. I just need a partner."

"Well why don't you and Luke enter together?" Emily suggested.

"Ah, have you met Luke?" Lorelai questioned sarcastically.

"I guess you do have a point there," Emily nodded in agreement.

"Well, clearly it is time for plan B," Lorelai declared.

"And what may I ask is Plan B?" Michel questioned.

"I'm not sure, but when I think of it…you, my friend, will be the last to know," she warned, pointing at Michel.

Michel huffed and replied. "As if I care about your silly small town dance marathon. I am taking my ten."

Lorelai crossed her arms and glared at Michel as he walked away from the front desk.

"Lorelai, I wanted to talk to you about something," Emily stated following Lorelai around to the back of the desk.

"Sure, Mom. Shoot."

"Well, your father and I went to Dinny Scott's daughter's wedding on Saturday –"

"Dinny Scott, isn't that woman on like her fourth husband?" Lorelai interrupted.

"Fifth but she's divorcing him, that's why she's back to using Scott. This was her daughter Dina's wedding and there – " Emily began to explain.

"Dina Scott?" Lorelai cut her off again. "Wow, I haven't thought about her since like ninth grade when they sent her away to that fat farm."

"Portmouth is not a fat farm," Emily corrected her. "It's a very well respected boarding school."

"Portly Portmouth, Mom, the girls that went there were only outweighed by their trust funds."

Emily did well to keep from smiling, but there was a spark of humor in her eyes as she shook her head. "Lorelai, I did have a point."

"Sorry, go on Mom," she conceded.

"I was trying to tell you about the flowers. They were gorgeous. Really. The best I've seen at any event in years. The man who did them was a friend of Dina's. He's just opened up a shop in Hartford and I got his card. I think he'd be great for the wedding and maybe we could even use him for our floral arrangements here." Emily opened her leather portfolio and removed business card from the inside pocket.

"We really don't need a new florist," Lorelai replied.

"You should just go to the shop. Look at his work," Emily countered.

"Mom, really, I like the florist here in Stars Hollow," Lorelai protested.

"Lorelai, I'm only suggesting you look at the man's work. If you don't like it you don't have to use him, and at the very least you may get some ideas for what you'd like for the wedding," Emily reasoned. "Have you got anything in mind yet?"

"No," Lorelai admitted with a reluctant sigh. "I guess it wouldn't hurt to go and look."

Emily smiled and nodded then quietly picked up her files from the counter top and walked away leaving Lorelai staring down at the card in her hand.

"Come on, you've got to have an opinion one way or the other," Lorelai insisted, standing next to the stove in the kitchen as Luke sat at the table, a yellow notepad in his hands..

"I don't," he repeated once again.

"Yes, you do. You can't just be opinion-less. There has got to be one that you like more than the other."

"What is there to have an opinion about?" he asked, putting the pad down as he turned his head to look at her.

Lorelai rolled her eyes. "The color, the style, the shape, the smell … lots of stuff, Luke."

"It is all the same to me," he shrugged.

Groaning, Lorelai walked from the kitchen and returned a few moments later with a magazine in her hands. Dropping it down in front of Luke, she flipped a few pages in an annoyed manner. "Those are lilies," she pointed to a photo. "And those are hydrangeas," she pointed to another. "These are orchids."

"I am aware of what flowers look like, Lorelai," he spoke dryly.

"So, then you know that they aren't the same," she argued.

"I didn't say they are the same. I said I don't have an opinion about which one I like more than the other. They are all the same to me," he clarified.

"How can you not have an opinion?" Lorelai demanded, her tone rising.

Luke groaned and rolled his head back. "I just don't. Do you have an opinion about whether or not you like monkey wrenches better than socket wrenches?"

"What?" she frowned.

"Exactly!" he triumphed.

Rolling her eyes, Lorelai tapped her finger on the magazine. "There has got to be one of these that you like more than the others."

"They're just flowers," he insisted.

"They are not just flowers," Lorelai clarified. "They are going to set the tone for our entire wedding."

"So just pick which one you like. I trust your judgment."

"But I want you to be involved in this, too, Luke. It is our wedding, not just my wedding," she pushed.

"If you are happy, then that is all that I need."

"Well, I'm not happy because you won't give me an opinion!" she yelled.

"I don't have an opinion!" Luke replied, raising his voice to meet hers.

"Oh my God," she seethed. "I want my mother," she huffed, moving her hand to her hip as she paced around in a circle.

"What?" Luke choked out.

"I want my mother. You won't give me an opinion about which flowers you like but she will."

"You are upset that I don't have an opinion, so you are going to have your mother pick for us because you are mad at me?" Luke sighed.

"I am not mad at you, Luke," she corrected him.

"Well, your eyes aren't exactly saying 'I love you' right now."

"I'm annoyed that you can have no opinion about something like the type of flowers that will be all over our wedding and in our photos for the rest of our lives, but I'm not mad."

"Lorelai," he spoke softly, pulling on her arm as she slid down into his lap. "When I said that I don't care about where we get married, what we wear, who is there … I meant that. I care about one thing – you. We could get married at City Hall with two strangers as our witnesses or we could get married at the Waldorf; none of that matters to me. I've wasted enough time being an idiot and not marrying you the first time I had the chance."

"You'd get married at the Waldorf?" she interrupted him.

"Ok, maybe that was an exaggeration," he corrected himself.

"What if I wanted to get married at the Waldorf? Would you do it for me?"

"You're not actually wanting to change the plans we've already made, are you?" he asked, a worried tone evident in his voice.

Lorelai smiled and bent her head forward to kiss him quickly. "No, I'm not going to change our plans. I'm only teasing you."

"Good," he breathed.

"I'm glad you trust me," she smiled. "I just want this day to be special for you, too."

"The fact that I have you back and that we are about to get married, that makes every day special for me."

"Will you stop saying all the right things?" she teased. "It makes it a lot harder to be annoyed with you when you're being this perfect."

"I'm serious, Lorelai."

"I know," she spoke. They were silent for a moment before Lorelai spoke up again. "You're sure that you don't have an opinion about the flowers?" she asked, hoping that the tender moment might elicit a response from him.

Luke shook his head and Lorelai groaned loudly, pushing herself back to her feet. "I want my Mother!" she huffed, snatching up her magazine and walking out of the kitchen.

Lorelai stood at the front desk going through the month's guest check-in cards and making notes on the individual guests, what they liked, what they'd signed up for, things to remember if they were to stay again. Later she'd type the notes into the computer but it was just easier to jot them down this way.

Michel sidled up to her and stood almost touching shoulder to shoulder, waiting for her to notice him, which she did immediately.

Lorelai glanced at her long-time concierge as though he'd sprouted another head. This was a man with very clearly defined rules of personal space. As a matter of fact, she knew the exact distance he preferred to stand from someone. She'd heard it often enough, thirty-four and one-quarter inches, the exact distance from his shoulder to his fingertips plus two inches. So why was he currently standing close enough to her for their sleeves to touch? Clearly he wanted something. She took a half step to the side, partly because she wanted to mess with him and partly because it felt uncomfortable to stand this close. Sure enough he slid over seconds later, again the shoulder of his suit coat brushing up against the sleeve of her dress. She took another, larger step to the side and turned her back almost against the wall. Not waiting for him to close the distance, she held up her hand to stop his advance. "Michel, do you want something?"

"I was just wondering if you had found a victim, I mean… partner yet for the dance marathon?" he questioned, his voice holding it's usual superior tone.

"No, I haven't," she replied side stepping around him and moving to the other end of the counter.

"Ahhhh," he signed and nodded his head.

Lorelai reached for the stack of cards and slid them over in front of her.

"So, the male members of this pathetic little town have finally gotten wise to you?" he asked.

Lorelai rolled her eyes. "I guess so."

"And you have no other possibilities? No newcomers that have yet to learn your trail of embarrassed, ridiculed, and broken former partners?"

Lorelai sighed dramatically. "No."

"So then, you have given up on the idea of entering the contest?" he asked picking up a pad of watermelon Post-its and tapping it casually on the counter.

"No. I'm not giving up. A Gilmore never gives up," she declared resolutely.

"But you say you have no possible ideas for a partner," he countered swaying his body a bit then moving his feet.

Lorelai sighed again, "Michel, would you like to be my dance partner?"

Turning his gaze heavenward Michel muttered, "At last she sees and recognizes true talent." He then looked to her and answered, "No."

"No?" Lorelai demanded. "What was that whole little performance about if it was not to get me to ask you to be my partner?"

Michel shrugged. "Imerely wanted to be asked. I have no intention of participating in your pathetic little rinky-dink small town contest. It would be beneath me."

"Argh," Lorelai grumbled as she stalked away from him.

Thanks to B. Alex Milligan, Riska, DieHardJavaJunkie14, Mary, Lilienprinzessin, and Aleta II Anon for the reviews. We're glad that you are enjoying the story! Thanks for taking the time to review!