Lorelai was beginning to experience a teensy ounce of regret at her recent life choices. For example, two hours ago when the snow had begun intensifying, she sent everybody else away from the inn. She, however, had elected to secure the last few windows and switch off the lights, delaying her departure. Stepping outside she started towards the Jeep, her eyes pinched shut, revelling in the delightful dabs of snow settling on her face. She inhaled a deep, satisfied breath. There was nothing like the snow. Absolutely magical. She stopped, pivoting to face towards the inn. She stretched her eyelids wide in awe. It was beyond breathtaking. Her inn. It was the most beautiful she'd ever seen it, fresh white powder coating the eaves.
The wind picked up around Lorelai and she shuddered despite herself. The movement shifted her gaze and she noticed that she'd missed a window, the shudders snapping open and closed with the weight of the wind.
"Drat," she muttered to herself, the word lost to the weather. She threw a glance over her shoulder at her car, there was a smattering of snow covering it, but she would be able to brush it off easily enough. She let her eyes drift admiringly over the inn for a moment longer. It was utterly gorgeous. She sighed proudly, her chest puffing out as her lungs refilled. "Fine," she murmured, gaze falling to her feet. She drifted towards the front door of the inn, flicking through her keys to find the right one. She brushed the snow off its teeth and pushed it into the lock. It stuck for a moment and she had to jangle it to just the right angle. "There's the sweet spot," she cried in success. Keys were hard, especially sticky new ones that she hadn't quite gotten used to yet.
She meandered through the door, shaking as much snow as possible off her coat as she went. She really couldn't be bothered taking it off considering she would be trudging back to her car in a matter of moments. She switched the light on, double checking each window methodically as she went. It was only a matter of time before the storm worsened and she really didn't fancy damaging her beautiful inn so close to the trial run. That would be an unmitigated disaster.
As she reached the clattering window, she pulled the shutters in and secured the locks, slamming her hand down over them to make sure that they were really jammed into place. "Ouch." She tugged her gloves halfway off to examine the palms of her hand. She shifted closer to the light for a better view. Small red indentations, she scowled playfully, shrugging her shoulders and crushing her fingers back into her gloves. The room was plunged into darkness. Only eerie half-light from the dying end of the day remained. She raised her eyebrows questioningly and marched back to the light switch. A few flicks and nothing. She moved to the reception and tried the lamp in there. Nothing again.
Clearly the impeding storm had cut the power. Not to worry, but it was definitely a sign that it was time to head home. Jackson had called Sookie earlier with some grand scheme of pooling resources during this incoming apparent blizzard and they'd loaded the torches, lamps and food into Sookie's car. Even the coffee had gone… She was due for another one, so yes, it was definitely time to leave.
Lorelai moved decisively towards the open door. "Whoa," she gasped. The wind had intensified, thrashing the fledgling trees into submission, tipping their trunks towards the ground. She whipped her head to the Jeep and released a steady groan.
"Bugger. Bugger, bugger," she moaned, crushing her face in her hands before peaking at her poor car once more. Not only was it now completely shrouded in snow, a white lump amongst many more white lumps, the old creaking tree from the corner of the drive was now the fallen tree blocking the road. "Nope," she nodded through pursed lips and backed into the inn, pulling the door sharply closed in her wake.
She mentally assessed her predicament. No electricity. The inn was bathed in only the very last vestiges of light. It was guaranteed to darken sooner rather than later. That was problem number one. Problem number two would probably end being the cold. Her buzz was wearing off and her attitude was waning. If she lost her little spark and settled into a funk she would feel the cold achingly so. There were blankets upstairs, but only a couple, the rest were at her house, waiting for her to finish stitching Dragonfly Inn delicately into them. Whoopsie-daisy. Okay, so the impending darkness and the impending cold were certainly an issue. But really, they were secondary to the overwhelming despair that hung over Lorelai with the knowledge that Sookie had taken all the food. She may as well pull out some stationary and write her final words to Rory.
A night without food. A night without coffee. She was doomed.
Lorelai shivered, lost in her ever rambling thoughts. Maybe that cold thing was somewhat of a priority after all. She needed to formulate a survival plan. She clambered up the stairs, taking them two at a time. She strode to the linen cupboard, emptying it into her arms. Now, where to situate herself. She briefly considered setting up in one of the beds. A crack of fierce wind causing the inn to shudder and sway precariously nixed that thought. Downstairs was definitely the place to be.
She paused at the foot of the stairs, assessing her options. The kitchen was useless considering the lack of necessities so she ruled that out. Her office might do, surely it was easier to contain warmth in the smaller room. The lack of door was a touch off-putting. Tom was certainly taking his time with securing those blooming doors to their latches. It probably wasn't the time to get sufficiently frustrated at her contractor though.
She scanned the ground floor of the inn one final time. Her eyes settling on the darkened fireplace. Oh. That would probably do…
Instead of cursing Tom she was now praising him. His crew of workers had been reluctant to take the scrap out in the crappy weather and the reception was now littered in offcuts of wood. Splendid. She just needed some kindling and some sort of fire starter…like a lighter, or a man. Luke, she thought, Luke could start the fire. She was not the campfire type. Her mother had always had a maid stoking the fireplace when she was a child. She wasn't allowed within 10 feet of the damn thing. Funny how that would've helped her now. She cursed Emily Gilmore under her breath and stalked to the kitchen. Surely, somewhere in all these drawers there would be a lighter.
She rummaged through each one, finding them all too empty. That was unfortunate. Where would Sookie hide a lighter? Inspiration struck. Where would someone hide a lighter from Sookie? Genius in the kitchen or not, sometimes she had a little too much pizazz. The staff at the Independence had been quick to cover their bases. Although, she did think that Michel hid things for sport at times too. She scoured the tops of the cupboard. Success! A box of matches. She opened it. Okay.
A box of match.
Not entirely ideal.
Why had her mother deprived her of all these essential life skills?
She was definitely doomed.
Well, she had one shot… and then she was doomed.
Lorelai shuffled back out to reception with a determined grimace. She piled the offcut wood into her arms and plonked it beside the fireplace. She'd watched many a starlet produce a robust fire in many a film. She totally had this. But first, she needed kindling. Her freshly printed Dragonfly Inn stationary stared at her sadly as she rounded the reception desk. She couldn't…
It was that or the books she'd just started stacking into the newly built shelves and she knew that Rory would kill her if it came to that. What was the point of surviving this ordeal to be put to death by her daughter for the destruction of literature? Oh god, it would have to be the stationary. The beautiful, crisp, clean stationary. It had taken weeks to finalise the design and actually get it printed. It had only arrived yesterday. Ack. Why had she let herself get stuck in the stupid – wonderful – inn in this ridiculous blizzard.
She tore a pile of stationary into shreds and bundled it into the fire place. She added some of the smaller wooden pieces over it before creating a tepee of sorts with some of the larger bits. She admired it cautiously, biting down on her lip in worry. This would work, right?
Lorelai reluctantly pulled the lonely match from its cardboard embrace and eyed it speculatively. "It's all on you buddy," she muttered. She struck the match and waited. Nothing happened. Her heartbeat quickened. What was that about being doomed? Okay, take two. She struck it again. A fizzle, then nothing. She began to panic in earnest, twisting the match in her fingers to strike it from multiple angles in quick succession. After what felt like an eternity, a small orange flame whooshed to life. She inhaled a shaky breath and gently reached the match into the centre of the fireplace. The paper burned, turning to ash under her gaze. It was fizzling away too quickly. The wood wasn't going to catch.
She asked herself, what would Luke do? He was obviously both the most outdoorsy and homemaker-y person she knew. Wait. A memory began to form of Luke moaning about her never cleaning out her fireplace. He'd rambled every fire related fact that night, she was sure of it. She took a deep breath, filling her lungs to capacity and whooshed a mighty breath into the ashy remains of her fire attempt. The blackened ash flared red, she tried again, another gust of air and there it was, a flame. Now she was worried she'd blow it out? She puffed a few more breaths, trying to balance spurring the fire on or quelling it completely.
She was beginning to feel like the original caveman-women, she had created fire. It was majestic. There was hope for her yet. She tugged a worn armchair over to the fireplace and situated herself in it, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and she was set.
A few moments later it dawned on her that she was also bored. Very, very bored. The fire was pretty and all, but it was no Gone with the Wind. This was going to be a looooong night. She fed the fire a few more lumps of wood and settled back into the chair. The fire cackled gently and she threw her head back and closed her eyes. A nap seemed the only reasonable activity.
She drifted off, unsure of how much time was passing. She tried not to sleep too deeply, worried the fire would go out. She was sure she must have been dreaming when the door barrelled open and a harsh, but somehow warm voice bellowed –
"Lorelai!"
Dream-her wrenched her eyes open to find an abominable snowman stomping towards her. She squinted. The strange snow monster looked oddly familiar. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and tried again. The snow coated creature looked an awful lot like Luke? Maybe the fire had gone out and she was actually freezing to death in her sleep? With that her mind, she said the only thing that seemed logical to say to Luke in the middle of a dream.
"Coffee please?" she pleaded, grinning up at him as he towered over her, shuffling snow all over the floor.
Luke gaped at the woman before him in actual legitimate shock. Coffee. He mulled it over for a second, shaking his head. You know what, he actually wasn't surprised at all…
AN: Thank you all for showing interest in this little story! It's so greatly appreciated. It's nice to see that people are still feeling as obsessed with good ole' Gilmore Girls as I am! Again, updating may not be speedy – my sincerest apologies… Stick with me!