Part 6
"Lily, where the hell is this DAR woman? I know I'm technically hosting this event, but does that really entail setting place cards as well?"
Lily immediately pulled out her phone. "I'll see what the holdup is, ma'am."
Abbey signed. She had been standing in the grand ballroom of the White House for over twenty minutes, watching the stewards set up. All the women in Abbey's family had been members of the DAR, and she had always been proud of her patriot privateer heritage. And the DAR did do some very noble work. But Abbey never could stand those stuffy, self-important society ladies who always seemed to show up at those events, no matter how worthy the causes may be. Ever since becoming First Lady, Abbey had been roped into honoring various state and regional DAR chapters each year. This time it was for Connecticut. And their president was late.
"Dr. Bartlet, I'm so sorry to keep you waiting. Someone took me to the Mural Room and said you would be meeting me there." A woman with flawlessly coifed auburn hair, perfect makeup, and a sharp, intelligent gaze came walking over with great purpose to shake Abbey's hand. Abbey smiled but regarded her carefully. This was clearly a woman who was very used to commanding a room, who felt no intimidation whatsoever from Abbey's title. And Abbey wasn't quite sure how she liked that.
"Oh is that what happened? I'm so sorry for the mix-up. My staff is usually much better about things like that," Abbey replied apologetically.
The other woman gave a polite smile. "Emily Gilmore, Dr. Bartlet. It is a pleasure to meet you. And thank you so much for honoring the Connecticut chapter of the DAR."
A realization dawned on Abbey. "Are you any relation to Rory Gilmore?"
Emily brightened. "Yes, she's my granddaughter."
"She's absolutely wonderful. I'm not quite sure how the White House functioned without her for so long."
"That's so kind of you to say. We miss her very much, now that she's not in Connecticut anymore. But I know this is the best place she could possibly be."
Abbey called her aide over. "Could you ask Rory to come down to the ballroom, please? I'm sure she's on the eighteenth draft and not nearly ready, but I'd like her now all the same." Abbey turned back to Emily. "Rory will be here in a minute. She's writing my speech for the event today."
"Oh that's wonderful." Emily's gaze wandered to the tables where the stewards were still setting up. "I'm sorry, are those the centerpieces you'll be using?"
"I believe so. Is there a problem?"
"Well, I'm sure whoever chose them thinks they're lovely. But that is not what I asked for. Dr. Bartlet, who can I speak to about this?"
Abbey was slightly taken aback, but she hid it well. Her aide had just returned from fetching Rory. Abbey waived her over. "Lily can solve all your problems, Mrs. Gilmore," Abbey said brightly.
"Just the centerpieces will be sufficient for now," Emily replied humorlessly.
Rory walked in a moment later, and Abbey excused herself to speak to her. "Rory, I've met your grandmother." The First Lady's eyes were a little too wide, her smile just a little too stiff.
"Yeah, she was really looking forward to meeting you. And I told her to call you Dr. Bartlet."
Abbey softened considerable. "And she did. That was nice. Thank you."
Rory smiled and turned to greet her grandmother, but found that Emily was too busy to notice her. "What's she doing now?" she asked.
"She doesn't like the centerpieces."
"Oh no."
"Yeah. I think it's best if we stay out of the way. Let's go over to my office to go over the speech," Abbey said, leading Rory out of the ballroom with her.
"Dr. Bartlet, I'm only on the second draft," Rory warned.
Abbey put a kind hand on the young woman's arm. "Rory, you're a brilliant speech writer. Knock it off."
"But I'm only brilliant when I can do drafts until it's right!"
Abbey laughed. "You'll just have to show a little vulnerability for me now. Because, frankly, I don't think I can stand to stay in there while your grandmother tries to take the chief steward's job."
Rory gave a small laugh in response. "Yeah, I don't blame you."
Abbey led Rory through the maze of White House corridors toward the East Wing. After working there for almost three months, Rory was had nearly memorized the layout. She hadn't gotten lost in almost a week.
On the way, they passed Sam. "Hey, Rory, Mrs. Bartlet, I was just going to the ballroom to see you, but I see you've got Rory."
"Yes, I do. We're going to work on my speech. But Sam, do me a favor. There's a woman in there from the Connecticut DAR named Emily. Keep her calm and happy, would you?"
Sam nodded. "Yes, ma'am." He went on his way, and Abbey and Rory went on theirs.
"He called you Mrs. Bartlet," Rory noted.
Abbey made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan. "Yeah, that was a campaign strategy Leo came up with early on. Apparently 'Dr. Bartlet' is intimidating and unrelatable to the average American. But I don't really mind. I'm very proud and happy to be Mrs. Bartlet. I was Mrs. Bartlet before I was Dr. Bartlet. I just would rather not being seen as only Mrs. Bartlet."
Rory nodded in understanding. Ideas began swirling within her mind, and she smiled. "I need to write a new draft of your speech."
Sam, meanwhile, had entered the new chaos that was the ballroom. A very elegant older woman stood in the center directing everything. Sam put on his best charming smile and approached her. "Excuse me, are you Emily?"
"Yes, I am," she replied distractedly. "And who are you?"
"I'm Sam Seaborn. I'm the Deputy Communications Director here at the White House, and the First Lady asked me to make sure you've got everything you need."
"Oh good! You can go find someone to fix these tablecloths. I asked for cream, and these are white. They're far too formal and stark for a daytime event."
Sam was about to tell her that this sort of concern really wasn't his job, but the First Lady's voice sounded in his head, reminding him to keep this woman calm and happy. "Of course. I'll look into that right now. And can I have someone get you a cup of coffee or something?"
Emily smiled at his kind gesture. "Yes, thank you. That would be lovely. I have more work to do here than I imagined."
Sam couldn't help but notice how soft Emily's face looked when she smiled. He walked away with a bit of a spring in his step.
"Hey, buddy. You look happy."
Sam turned to see Josh walking over to him. They walked together and carried on a conversation. "The First Lady has me fetching for the DAR woman for the thing today."
"And that makes you happy? Oh she's pretty," Josh said in understanding. "But aren't those DAR ladies all old and scary?"
"Well, this one is rather demanding," Sam admitted.
Josh grinned. "Oh that's why you like her. Pretty and demanding is your type. Especially when they're a bit older…in positions of authority."
Sam sputtered in protest, unable to find words because he knew Josh was right.
"You've gotta be careful. Remember when you hit on Leo's wife? Or when you got a little too flirty with the First Lady and the President threatened to send you to the Sahara?"
Sam just sighed. "I gotta find tablecloths. Oh, can you make sure she gets coffee? If you're heading over there?"
Josh rolled his eyes but acquiesced. He got one of the stewards, all of whom were running every which direction, to follow him back to the ballroom with a coffee cart to appease the DAR lady. He walked in to see quite possibly the most intimidating female presence ever to enter the White House.
"Mrs. Gilmore?!"
Emily turned to see a curly-haired man staring at her in slight shock. She smiled. "Joshua Lyman! It's been quite a long time. Though I must say you look very much like your father."
He stood there, frozen in mild panic.
"Josh?"
It took him a moment to shake himself, but Josh was able to regain some semblance of dignity. "I didn't know you were the head of the Connecticut DAR. Welcome to the White House."
Emily sighed. "You always were an awkward boy. Smart as a whip and strangely over-confident a lot of the time. I'd thought you'd have grown out of that."
Josh frowned. "Is there anything I can get for you, Mrs. Gilmore?"
"No, thank you. I've got plenty of help here. Though I do need Sam Seaborn to come back. I sent him to do something about the table cloths, but the chief steward has come to my rescue."
"I'll find him, Mrs. Gilmore." Josh was transported back almost twenty years, when he was an adolescent running around the giant Gilmore house with Lorelai and Christopher, hiding the things they broke and covering up the mess they made. Mrs. Gilmore always made him feel about two feet tall, and yet he'd constantly tried to impress her. Maybe because her approval was so seldom given that Josh wanted it for himself. She looked just the same as she had all those years ago. Her hair was a little shorter, but that was the only difference he could see. Josh may have been a member of President Bartlet's senior staff, but to Emily Gilmore, he'd always be Noah's boy, and seeing her again made him feel like nothing more than the son of a business associate once again.
Josh hurried out of the room and instantly felt better upon being back in the familiar halls of the White House. He saw Sam approaching looking very pleased with himself.
"I figured out who deals with tablecloths," he announced.
Josh smacked him upside the head. "You don't get to have a weird crush on Mrs. Gilmore!"
"Ow! What are you talking about?" Sam protested, rubbing the back of his head to soothe the pain.
"The DAR lady? That's Emily Gilmore. Lorelai's mom. Which would make her Rory's grandmother," Josh explained.
Sam's eyes went wide with fear. "Oh my god. That was…oh my god. Oh wow." He put the pieces together and a small smirk crossed his face. "So she's the one who told you couldn't come back in the house until you learned how to walk without slouching?"
Josh paused a beat and glared at his so-called friend. "I'd blocked that from my memory, so thanks. Did Lorelai tell you that?"
"Yep," Sam replied, his face positively giddy at the image of Emily barking passive-aggressive orders at a young Joshua Lyman.
"I went through a growth spurt when I was fifteen," Josh grumbled. "And Mrs. Gilmore said my mother would be ashamed to see a ballerina's son lacking any ounce of elegance."
"I'm gonna tell CJ," Sam said with what might have been described as a giggle.
"Mrs. Gilmore wants you in the ballroom, so that'll have to wait," Josh replied acerbically.
Sam went back to the ballroom and Josh avoided that entire area of the White House like the plague for the rest of the day. He went right back to his office and complained to Donna, who proceeded to call Lorelai and put her on speakerphone, so they could all enjoy Josh's mortification.
At exactly two o'clock, the First Lady returned to the ballroom, making her grand entrance. She smiled and waved at the applauding crowd of the exact stuffy women she had been expecting. Though she did notice that the new centerpieces were much nicer. And the tablecloths matched them quite nicely.
"Daughters of the Revolution, I'm very proud to welcome you all to the White House. I want to first thank Emily Gilmore, your chapter president, for tirelessly organizing this event. You're all very lucky to have such a dedicated and gifted leader. It was my pleasure and honor to meet her today, and I hope to get to know many more of you today." Abbey smiled at Rory, who sat beside her grandmother at the front table. Rory was, after all, a member of the Connecticut DAR herself.
Abbey continued, "I've been a member of the DAR since I was eighteen years old. Just like all the women in my family, I joined as soon as I was eligible. I must admit, I've never been the most active member until recently, but I've always been proud of my heritage and the part my ancestors have played in the history of this great nation.
"In this day in age, with the past growing ever further away from us, it is more important than ever to have organizations like this one. Because the DAR isn't a society club or a debutante matriculation machine or even just a service organization. The DAR is about women making a difference, honoring one another, and striving for greatness in the name of public service. The DAR recognizes that each and every one of us is more than who we're related to. That's what gets us in the door, certainly, but once we're here, it's so much more.
"I joined as Abigail Barrington, descendant of a Patriot. During my years of membership, I've become a wife, a mother, a doctor, and First Lady. And never once did those changes affect the way I was treated by the DAR. No one treated me worse or better when I was Mrs. Bartlet than when I was Miss Barrington, or when I started getting called 'Mom' or 'Doctor' or when I moved into this house. Well, I did start getting a few more phone calls from the DAR headquarters once they got the number to my office in the East Wing." She paused as the audience gave an amused chuckle.
"I guess what I'm saying is that in the midst of our changing nation, our changing lives, and the changing position of women, the DAR has always existed as a means to celebrate and support American women, and I couldn't be prouder to be a member, and I am delighted to have you all here today."
The crowd erupted into applause as Abbey left the podium to sit at her table. Emily watched her closely with an unreadable expression. She leaned over to Rory and told her, "That was a lovely speech. You did a wonderful job, Rory."
"Thanks, Grandma. But I just wrote the words. Dr. Bartlet lived that life."
"She seems like a remarkable woman," Emily noted with a small nod of approval.
Rory just smiled, knowing that her grandmother had no idea how remarkable the First Lady really was and how lucky Rory was to have such an incredible role model to work so closely with every day.