3 – All Of My Memories Keep You Near

"Everything to your liking, miss Gilmore?"

"After years of writing on a laptop perched on my luggage while waiting for the next bus, having a desk seems positively decadent," Rory smiled at the kindly professor, "let alone having my own office with five bookcases and three windows. I feel very Rockefeller."

"Ah, now, the windows open. That should make you feel very Warren Buffett," Professor Tarkington replied. He glanced around Rory's office, which was littered with stacks of research guides, government reports, dictionaries and other books. Rory had decided to unpack the volumes from the bookcases to give the shelves a good dusting and to integrate her own collection, paltry in comparison. "Although I myself have always preferred the offices in Washington. More suited for our task, you know."

"No, this place has character," Rory protested. The Washington offices were magnificent constructions of glass, steel and chrome; it gave a cutting edge to the research facility and was listed in a Post feature on modern offices. Yet, to Rory, it resembled a Stargate-inspired version of Hogwarts. Cold, clinical, with a confusing array of silver buttons in the bathroom and corridors lined with people wearing black carrying books. In contrast, the Hartford offices had been converted from a colonial fur trader's family house. While the plumbing had been improved, the walls repainted and the original glass replaced, it still retained the hardwood floors and bay windows that originally gave the building a majestic air. The heavy mahogany furniture in her office made Rory feel like a character from a Dickens novel, despite the array of electronic equipment displayed on the desk. And she knew she would wile away many a productive hour in front of her windows, which offered a beautiful view of Bushnell Park.

"Well, miss Gilmore, remember that feeling when the exterminators ruin your favourite set of dictionaries in a quest for termintes," Professor Tarkington said. "Now, have you managed to relocate and settle in? House prices in Hartford can be quite exorbitant. Nothing like the Vineyard or at the Cape, of course."

"I have family living in Stars Hollow who will put me up for a while," Rory replied. "I won't be able to afford anything in Hartford without a roommate and I've had enough of roommates during college and on the campaign trail."

Professor Tarkington nodded his grey head. "I can believe that. I have never harboured any desire to share my bathroom and toothbrush with a relative stranger either."

"I hope my roommates never used my toothbrush," Rory shuddered.

"Now, Miss Gilmore, we have a function on Saturday night. Partly Christmas party, partly a fundraising event. It would be wonderful if you could attend; it will give you the opportunity of meeting most of our regular donors."

Rory recognised the tone. It was the same tone Emily used when inviting her to social gatherings, especially those that would feature prominent members of the DAR. While it may be sugarcoated as an invitation, it was a request she could not refuse. "Sure. It'll be good to practice my handshake again."

"Hmmm," Professor Tarkington murmured. "You do that. I will e-mail you the details. And do take tomorrow off to rest. I want you radiant on Saturday."

Rory brightened. She had planned to finish arranging her office furniture the next day and leave straight from work to go to her grandparents' Christmas party. She had not relished the idea of attending one of Emily's soirees without showering; somebody was sure to make an acid remark about it being clear why the young Huntzberger cut his losses. Not in her vicinity, of course, but close enough for her to overhear. Professor Tarkington's suggestion would give her the opportunity to sleep late, have a leisurely brunch at Luke's and spend the rest of the day pampering herself in preparation. "Thanks, boss!"

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"Oh, daughter of mine, have I ever told you how beautiful you look?" a frazzled Lorelai told her as Rory walked into the Inn. "How your intelligence just radiates from your perfectly formed eyes? And how painful it was to birth you?"

"What do you need?" Rory grinned.

"Well, Sookie is having a kitchen crises involving caramelised blueberries which means our dining room is starting to resemble the Boston tea party. The Rosenblatts have gone off to some romantic dinner, leaving their children in Michel's loving care, and since they are now three hundred million hours late, Michel is starting to resemble Charles Manson. I am late for the town meeting in which Taylor promised to raise the issue of the pigeons," Lorelai began.

"So you need me to man the desk for you while you go to the town meeting?"

"No, I need you to babysit Lily while I go to the town meeting. No event revolving around me and Taylor and pigeons is safe for the ears of a four year old. Not even that four year old."

Rory frowned. "Why is Lily at the Inn in the first place?"

"Because nobody else could take her," Lorelai said.

"Where's …"

"Her dad has his own business to run, kid, sometimes it can get a little busy." Lorelai gestured to the sounds of Michel howling agonised French curses from the living room which coincided with a clatter of crystalwear from the dining room. "As you can tell. Look, she's just having supper in the kitchen. If you really can't, just take her to Liz."

"I wouldn't do that to the poor kid," Rory said, taking off her gloves and hanging her coat on the hook. "Go. Yell at Taylor for me."

"You are my favourite daughter," Lorelai replied, kissing her cheek and pulling on Rory's gloves as she left the Inn.

Rory threaded her way carefully through the dining room into the kitchen. A girl, little in every sense of the word, was eating at the kitchen table, studying a picture book with intense concentration. She seemed unpertubed by the noise and the bustle around her and Rory smiled.

So like her father. Not that anybody could doubt it, not with those thick black curls and the gorgeous smile, but just look at her read. Every inch her dad.

"Hey, you."

Lily looked up from her book solemnly. "Hi, Rory. Have you read any Otto books?"

"He's the best," Rory nodded. "I like his friend Helen the most."

"That's our Ivy League graduate talking about Eric Hall," Sookie said as she brushed past Rory with a turkey baster. "You taking Lily with you?"

Rory grinned as Michel's bellowing voice became distinctly louder and suspiciously close to English. "I think I had better do that. Wouldn't want Taylor to shut down the Inn for posing a moral danger to preschoolers."

"Hey, at least that'll get Michel out of our hair for a while," Sookie pointed out, grabbing her fig-and-bacon-stuffed potatoes from the oven. "Fred! Get these to table four before their heads explode!"

"Lily, I think it's best if we leave now."

Lily nodded and quietly put her book in her bag. She held onto Rory's hand as they walked out of the kitchen's back door. "Are we going to Daddy's house now?"

"Well …"

"I think that might be for the best," Lily's dad said, getting out of the car he had just parked in the Inn's lot. Lily ran to him and he caught her in his arms, lifting her up in a hug while she clasped her arms around his neck. "Hey, Lily. You miss me?" Lily nodded emphatically and he kissed her cheek. "Good. Hi, Rory."

"Hi, Jess."

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A/N: Hug me with your reviews, please! And thank you for all the positive feedback.