Lorelai breathed a sigh of relief. The zipper closed. The dress fit. The previous week she barely escaped Emily's wrath when she quickly opened a seam in her debutante ball gown and gave her expanding belly just enough room to stand without fainting while her photo was taken. Later that night she opened the rest of the seams and hand-stitched a little more space, crossing her fingers in the hope that it would still fit for the debutante ball in three days. She vowed to start doing stomach crunches and to reduce this pooch she'd developed in her abdomen.
"Good," said Emily as a white-gloved Lorelai took her father's arm and he escorted her safely down the stairs, paused for the presentation, then handed her off to Christopher. "This is the way it's supposed to be. A few more balls, and if no better prospects come along, she can marry Christopher."
Annoyed with the whole coming-out process, Lorelai stood, feather fan in hand, waiting for the fan dance to begin. Betsy Grayson, next to her in line, wrinkled her nose at Christopher as he walked away from them. "You don't want to marry him," she nudged Lorelai, "He's kinda prissy. He can't possibly be 'The One.'"
Lorelai agreed. "Nobody marries their first boyfriend." She dreamt of traveling, college, and finally having some freedom from her parents. She'd never given a moment's thought to a future with Christopher.
After the humiliation of dancing in a circle with a dozen other young women, trying to look as much as possible as swans, Lorelai gratefully took to the dance floor, and after her father danced a few cursory rounds with her, she was free to dance with others.
Christopher danced, of course, and was followed by pretty much every boy she was acquainted with, twirling around and around until that song ended and another boy stood before her. She gleefully rejected Digger, who had embarrassed her in front of the whole camp last summer by flipping her out of the canoe on the lake and christening her "Umlauts" before she could cross her arms over her chest.
Slowly the boys started changing into men and she recalled their names, one by one. Barry, the head waiter at the Independence Inn, who'd taken her out once. Jerry, Dave, Sammy and a host of other co-workers and friends of co-workers. An older guy appeared and it took her a moment to realize it was the Chilton dad from Rory's first day at school.
She noticed that she, too, had grown and aged as she energetically threw herself into each waltz, tango and mambo. Rory's start at Chilton gave her a feeling of freedom when it came to men. A now-mature Rory could handle her mother having a boyfriend, and suddenly the men hitting on her were now possibilities rather than pesky bumblebees buzzing around her.
She looked down as she danced. Her body was solid; her figure perfect, not even her worst memories of Emily's insults could crack her resolve to enjoy her adulthood in every way. Before her eyes her prim white debutante dress had slowly started taking on color, and was now sexy, bright and reflected her 33 year old self. Sheer happiness caused her to laugh out loud, delighted in her vibrant, energetic persona.
After a couple more nameless faces, she found herself standing in front of Max Medina.
"Man," she thought to herself as they danced, "He may be a sweet talker, but he's pushing me around like I was a broom."
Before she had time to process how Max came to her debutante ball, she was spun around and landed in a pair of strong arms and a muscular body clad in an immaculate dark suit.
This wasn't sixteen year old Christopher, clumsily trying his dance class moves on her. Nor was it pushy Max. Instead she felt as if she were floating, a strong hand with a light touch on her back, feeling her movements as well as guiding her confidently around the floor.
In contrast to her other partners, this one clicked. Everything fit. He wasn't leading as much as challenging her, both supporting her and daring her to speed up, do more, be bolder. Be more Lorelai.
She leaned into his embrace as they sped up, adding twists and twirls as she gained her confidence. She sighed, forgetting her parents, the debutante cycle, everything except the strength and comfort she felt from this guy's arms. It's like he senses my rhythm; feels it; feels me, she thought. Coffee was a distinct undertone in his cologne. Just as she was melting into Unknown Guy's embrace, her mother's voice cut through. "Idiots. The both of you."
"Gah!" she cried as she awoke.
Rory shrieked back at her, nearly spilling the coffee she'd brought upstairs to her mother's bedroom. "What is with you?" she demanded.
"Never combine Phish Food ice cream, double pepperoni pizza and guacamole-dipped Tater Tots in one evening. It'll give you nightmares."
"Ah," said Rory sagely. "Dreaming about Luke again?"
"Hah!" exclaimed Lorelai triumphantly. "No Luke last night. Last night was all about my debutante ball." She took the proffered cup of Joe and drank greedily, as if she'd really danced all those dances.
Rory settled herself on the bed. "Uh, Mom, you didn't have a debutante ball," she probed.
"In this dream I did, hon. Mom didn't find out about you until after the first ball and I managed to alter my dress to fit. Then it got really weird after the fan dance. I started dancing with all of these guys. From high school, from our early years at the Inn, even recently."
"You mean..."
"Max Medina, yes, the very one. Boy, let me tell you, that was one dodged bullet. He was a terrible dancer, but kept trying to tell me how to dance. I was glad when the next guy came along. He was the best! Strong arms, knew how to dance, knew how to lead, his cologne even smelled like coffee. A solid, reliable guy."
"In other words, Luke." Rory smirked at her mother.
"No! Not just like Luke! This guy was ... um ..."
"Just like Luke," Rory finished for her.
Lorelai collapsed back on the bed in despair. "No," she added weakly, "He wore a suit."
"Luke has a suit, Mom. If I recall correctly, one you bought for him, and if the gossip of that day is true, you practically dressed him in it multiple times, like your own living Ken doll."
Rory stood up, took the empty coffee mug and walked to the door. "Face it, Mom, Luke's your dream guy. Now get up. You promised him we'll help out today."
Lorelai hopped out of bed, calling, "I wonder if Luke had a shingle with a shimmy and a shake when he had his boiled leaves!"
"Hurry up, Mom! Ken is counting on you! Enough already with the diner lingo."
Luke was grateful when the girls arrived just as lunch was peaking. He placed a guiding hand on Lorelai's shoulder as she moved past him to tie on a small apron.
"Here," he said matter-of-factly. "Fold this here, then tie it like this," he tugged the strings around her waist to give it a snug fit. "I'm gonna run upstairs and get some more phone calls made."
Lorelai caught a whiff of coffee as he passed by, reminding her of her dream.
Luke hesitated at the end of the counter, then turned and went back to Lorelai, who was prepping another pot of coffee.
"Hey, Lorelai, um, thanks again." He looked down at the ground, obviously distracted. "Uncle Louie, well, uh, um, I gotta go make some more arrangements, so I'll be upstairs for a while. Come and get me if you need me, OK?"
She leaned into him, subtly, so no one in the diner would think anything unusual. "Sure," she said. A split second later her irrepressible grin spread across her face. "I'll bring you some boiled leaves in a little while. Diner lingo for hot tea." She giggled.
He patted her shoulder. "Sounds great."
After Luke's heavy footsteps faded out of earshot, she flung herself into keeping the diner crowd entertained and fed.
Luke needed her. Not to keep the diner open, but for the important stuff. For the emotional stuff. His too-cheerful "dropped some eggs" covered his inability to say, "My uncle died." His flimsy protests at her helping out at the diner were weakened further by the gratitude in his face when she refused to give in. He was aching with pain he couldn't express, but with each confession of a tiny weakness he let her further into his most personal place. For once, Luke Danes was the recipient instead of the doer.
Normally he exercised his most personal emotions by doing things. Showing up at her house at the crack of dawn when he should have been with Rachel was a cry for help. Looking back, Lorelai realized that she should have pulled his feelings out of him instead of jumping to the conclusion that he wanted Rachel back in his life. He seemed happier when she was gone. He went back to their rhythm of food, coffee, friendship and favors without ever pining or wallowing.
Well, he did spend months carving the chuppah. That must have been how he worked out his breakup with Rachel, she thought as she bussed tables and refilled beverages,
Except that was a long time after Rachel left, and he'd seemed very normal. What could have been going on in his life that made him devote so many non-working hours to the woodcarving? In some ways Luke was simply unknowable, she shrugged, grabbing two plates of food for the Reverend and his wife.
Mrs. Skinner nearly got her soup poured into her lap as Lorelai stumbled onto the answer. It wasn't Rachel he worked out of his system with the chuppah, it was her!
After pushing back hard on her readiness to be married to Max, Luke retreated to his superficial self, except now she could see that he did that only when it came to discussions about her wedding. "Who gives a damn about what ducks do" was another egg-dropping emotional reveal. Luke cared. He really cared, like Sookie and others had said. Not about ducks, though, but about Lorelai.
When any other red-blooded male would have gone drinking or found a rebound girl or two, Luke carved the chuppah. He worked on every tiny detail, every action helping him say goodbye to Lorelai.
"Kirk, what now?" she complained as Kirk called her back to his table for another request. She was beginning to understand why Luke got so grumpy on occasion. She pushed the chuppah realization away as she tended to business.
She tried to concentrate on diner lingo but it just didn't flow any more. Instead of "Adam and Eve on a raft" it was "Luke and Lorelai under a chuppah." His feelings for her were expressed in everything he did, from the tabs he never asked her to pay to the home repairs, to never giving her quite as much coffee as she wanted, thus ensuring she'd return.
"Lorelai!" called Caesar from the kitchen. After a glance around the dining room, she stepped back into the kitchen to see what Caesar needed.
"Here's your burger with grilled onions and onion rings, just as you wanted, he said blithely.
"Burger with breath!" she exclaimed as she took a bite.
"Or take a cow and make it cry," offered Caesar. "That's what my uncle always called it." Noise from the front got his attention.
"Hey, Lorelai, you probably ought to get out there, see what's going on."
Mumbling through a mouthful of food, she nodded and went back into the dining room. Kirk had already begun cleaning up the mess he'd made when he tried to insist that Miss Patty's salad be tossed 'like Luke tossed it,' even though he'd never seen Luke toss a salad.
She took an empty spot at the counter and wolfed down her sandwich.
"Where's Luke?" whined Kirk. "He would help me clean up." He looked at Lorelai accusingly; he'd not forgotten the Equal incident.
After inserting an onion ring into her mouth and giving Kirk an onion ring grin, Lorelai turned back to her lunch.
Working the diner wasn't nearly as much fun without Luke here to entertain her. She had no distractions at the moment except for Kirk, who was boring, and, well, Kirk, who was still boring.
Her denial muscle was working overtime as she pushed memories of her debutante dream away. "It's immoral to think about him in that way when he was in mourning," she told herself. "He needs my support, not my lady bits."
Her lunch finished, she made a couple of rounds of the diner first with coffee, then ice water and iced tea. Kirk was sulking in a corner, and a couple of tables had small groups of women obviously having Kaffee Klatsches.
"Bored, bored, bored," she mumbled. Suddenly she grinned. "Luke needs lunch! I'll take him some lunch!" Her denial muscle flexed once again and she totally missed the unspoken objective that came out of nowhere: she was going to kiss Luke. Right upstairs in his apartment. She was going to kiss him.
"Caesar! Luke needs lunch!"
"Getting right on it, Lorelai," he replied affably. "His usual salad and turkey burger?"
"Sounds disgustingly like Luke, so yeah."
Her feet started moving uncontrollably on the stool. Soon she would be close to him again. Surely another hug would help. This one could linger, since they would be alone upstairs. This one could develop into something more.
"Crap!" she practically shouted, right before she also practically fainted from the smell. She breathed into her hand. Onion breath. Extraordinarily intense onion breath, the kind that comes from extra grilled onions and a big pile of onion rings. Dashing behind the counter, she excavated in her purse for toothpaste, breath mints, anything. The only thing she pulled out was a single Certs, quite literally covered in Kleenex fuzz. Or belly button lint. Or something else equally disgusting. She tossed it into the trash can and buried her face in her hands. No hug for Luke after all. No hug for Lorelai. No completely spontaneous unplanned yet planned kiss. Unless...
"Caesar! You got that wimpy for Luke ready?"
"Just about," he called.
"Pin a rose on it, ok? A nice big one!"
"Hey, it's your funeral if he doesn't like it," shrugged the cook.
She wrinkled her nose at the turkey burger with a side of salad vegetables, appreciating only the onion she'd ordered. Just in case, not that there was any expectation, not even a wish; after all, they were just friends who hadn't ever kissed; but just in case her own oniony lips should accidentally fall onto his, it should at least happen after he'd joined her in the pungent breath party.
Stepping behind the curtain, she set the plate down on a stair, gave her girls a little push up, then proceeded to the top and knocked on Luke's apartment door.
"Luke, it's me."
Luke opened the door to her sympathetic yet smiling face.
"Hey. I brought you a wimpy with a rose pinned on it."
He squinted at the plate. "A what?"
"Turkey burger with onions."
"Oh, thanks. Come on in." Still obviously occupied with his worries before she knocked, he took the plate silently and carried it over to the kitchen counter.
Lorelai gestured toward the half-finished Jess space as they walked past the construction area, idly thinking that Luke missed a great opportunity to build 4 walls and a door with a lock for the teenage hoodlum. "How's the money pit coming?"
"Oh, just uh ... that's it."
Lorelai held back her next comment, which was going to be a brilliant suggestion that Luke put the lock on the outside of the door and use a massive quantity of soundproofing material. "What's the matter?"
He shrugged, defeated. "Nothing." Finally his frustration poured out of him. "None of them are coming – not a one."
"Who?"
"My relatives – the ones I booked all the rooms for – not one is coming to Louie's funeral."
"You're kidding – why?"
He sneered as he recalled the pathetic excuses his family had come up with. "I don't know, which lame-o excuse do you wanna hear first? A bunch of 'em claimed they can't get outta work."
"It's not so lame-o."
"Randy and Barbara don't wanna miss their brat kid's rugby semifinal."
"Rugby has semifinals?"
"My sister never even called back. My cousins Paul and Jim, who my dad helped put through college, said they were too exhausted from a fishing trip. And slightly disturbed cousin Franny said she can't leave because her Petey's sick."
"Son?"
"Parrot."
"Petey the parrot?"
"I saw the stupid thing once on a visit, flapping its wings like crazy, banging around, squawking the only two words it knows over and over – Petey and gorgeous. Gorgeous, Petey, gorgeous, Petey!
Lorelai suppressed a chuckle. "That's disturbing."
"My family's disturbing."
"I'm so sorry."
"This is wrong, this is not how it's done. A family member dies; you pay your respects – period."
His sadness at being let down once again by family was obvious. It wasn't just a minor angry rant. "Look at it this way – if they don't wanna be there, you don't want them there."
"My dad wanted 'em to be there."
"I know. But hey, Louie lived in Stars Hollow most of his life, so a lot of people from here will be there, right?
"Right."
"I know it's upsetting, but maybe it's better this way."
"Yeah, I guess," he sighed. "I really hate that bird."
Lorelai watched Luke completely ignore his lunch, moving it out of his way on the counter. She knew that there was no need to balance onion breath today, because Luke was too wrapped up in his family drama to see his own meal, much less recognize the alternative and very dirty feast that kept popping into her mind.
This was not going to be one of those days when she and Luke shared a 'moment.' It had, in fact, been a very long time since they'd had anything that she would have to deny was happening to them. Not even their recent hug could be described as a moment.
Well, Luke's Petey mimicry was a moment, just not the romantic one she'd built up in her mind.
Lorelai sighed, dealt with Rory coming up to tell her that Jackson wanted to speak to her, flipped her hair, noticed that Luke didn't react like he normally did when she flipped, and went downstairs.
Returning to the diner after convincing her mother that the gazebo should not be moved, Lorelai made her round with drinks and checked to see if anyone wanted anything additional. Nothing was needed; even Caesar was back in the kitchen taking a break as he texted his girlfriend. Lorelai was bored again.
Boredom in the diner usually meant teasing Luke into a rant or an argument, but she didn't want to irritate him since his relatives were doing such a fine job of it themselves.
"Luke, I'm bored," she said as she re-entered the apartment.
Luke was staring at the construction for Jess' bedroom. Even Jess had refused to go to the funeral.
"What? Hey." he said, noticing her for the first time.
Lorelai walked up to him and patted him on the arm affectionately. "You haven't eaten," she noted.
"Um, yeah, I'll get to it in a little while," he replied.
She went to the fridge, took a bottle of water, opened it and thrust it into his hands. "Drink. You'll feel better."
Luke looked at the bottle, other things clearly on his mind.
"That's a good boy," she said as he nearly emptied the bottle.
"I'm not a dog," he complained. "I don't need to be talked to like one."
It was definitely time to back off, thought Lorelai. First, the best tool she had to distract Luke from bad thoughts was telling him she needed something. That had backfired - usually saying she was bored started him off on a tangent, but today it didn't even register that she'd said something.
Irritated, Luke pushed himself away from the counter.
"I hate being lied to!" he exclaimed. "Rugby? That kid hasn't moved from the sofa since he got his first Gameboy. My dad, he tapped a big chunk of his savings to put Jimmy and Paul through college. When I started college, I paid for it myself!"
"Well, you're a man of integrity," consoled Lorelai, giving him an awkward sideways hug the moment he stood still.
"Jim at least started paying Dad back. He wrote exactly one check for a hundred bucks. That didn't even touch the thousands Dad gave them. Dad never said a thing about it, either."
Luke broke away from her embrace when the phone started ringing, missing her slight pout.
"Hello?" His eyes widened as he continued, "Hey, Barbara. What's up?"
She spoke for a moment.
"Do you need those rooms after all? Uh-huh." He tapped the toe of his shoe on the floor.
"Yeah." Suddenly his back became ramrod stiff. He caught Lorelai's eye and shook his head no.
"The baseball cards? Randy says that Uncle Louie wanted him to have them?" He rolled his eyes at Lorelai, who was avidly listening.
"No, Uncle Louie didn't exactly leave a will. He just wrote a letter about his funeral, what he wants and stuff."
"Nah, he was just renting. It looks like there's just enough money to pay for the funeral."
Luke's face darkened. "Yeah, no car either. He was living in a retirement community. They had buses and golf carts and stuff."
Crossing his arms over his chest and tucking the phone between his chin and his shoulder, he continued. "So how's Joey doing with his rugby?"
He nodded. "Ah-hah. He scored 15 'touchdowns' all by himself? In one game? Wow, that's something. That's really something."
"Well, Barbara, you can tell Randy that Louie had clear instructions for the baseball cards, but Randy's name wasn't on them."
He nodded, still listening to Barbara. "Well, that's a shame, isn't it? Too bad he can't come and help me go through Louie's stuff. He'd at least get to look at the cards once more."
"Nah, don't bother. I'll finish it tomorrow, and with Randy's 'bad back'" he rolled his eyes at Lorelai once again, "he definitely shouldn't travel."
"Ah. Yeah, I'll let you know if I change my mind." He nodded. "Oh, and Barbara?" he barked. "Rugby doesn't have touchdowns. Bye."
Hanging up, he clapped his hands together once and grimaced. "That, Lorelai, was today's 'Greed on Parade' show. Jeez! What are they thinking? That I'm stupid?" He threw his hands up in the air in disgust.
He walked back to the kitchen counter, looked at his untouched sandwich, then tipped it into the trash can.
"Oh hey," he said, remembering Lorelai again, "You can cancel those rooms now."
Lorelai shrugged. "It's no problem. It's not a busy time anyway. I can cancel them at the last minute."
He approached her and squeezed her shoulder. "No, please do it now. I hate that stuff hanging over me."
"Luke, there's nothing hanging over you. The rooms are yours, even if your relatives are such ungrateful, greedy wretches that it makes me think they're from Hartford."
She leaned into him, offering comfort while at the same time accepting that there would be no 'dream Luke' coming to life while he dealt with his family.
"Make the call."
Reluctantly Lorelai picked up the telephone and dialed the Independence Inn. Michel answered with aplomb after a ring and a half.
Holding the handset slightly away from her ear until Luke could hear Michel's voice; she grinned and winked at Luke. "Tina? Can you please cancel those rooms I blocked for this week? We won't need them."
She laughed. "Oh stop it, Tina! I love your Michel imitation! Just don't tell him about it or he'll get really mad."
Holding the handset away from her ear as Michel yelled at her, she giggled, "And a check mark for today!"
The dial tone let Lorelai know that Michel had hung up on her, so she put the handset back on the hook and turned to him.
"So, we are partners in crime, now!" she giggled again.
"How so?" he grunted.
"You put Barbara in her place and I got my daily dose of annoying Michel in. Just enough evil to keep us on Santa's naughty list."
"Ah," he said, looking down at the table.
"We now have a secret bond; honor among thieves and all that, you know. Pinky swear that we are bound to never reveal our dastardly behavior to another?"
She crooked her pinky and held it too close to his face.
"Get that away from me!" he snarled affectionately as he batted her hand away. "I'm done here. I'm going back to work."
"You betcha, Boss!" she chortled. Her eyes narrowed as she watched Luke slide his wallet and keys into his pockets, then gave her a little shove toward the door.
She purposefully gave him too little personal space as he locked the apartment. When he gasped as he turned and found her grinning face too close to his, she said, "Do Petey for me again!"
"No."
"Gorgeous Lukey! Gorgeous Lukey!" she parroted as she followed him across the landing to the top of the stairs.
Luke spun on his heel and wagged a finger in her laughing face, only half-able to repress a smile himself.
Lorelai quickly hooked her pinky with his, crowing "Now we are bound for eternity!"
As they made their way down the stairs, Lorelai felt Luke return to his normal grumpy self.
"Will you wear an eyepatch when you do Petey the next time? And say 'Argh!' please?"
"Will you cut out the pinky swears?"
"Never!"
"Right back atcha."