Chapter 4

Gigi was back in Connecticut for spring break. She had stayed at school until Sunday night to put off the inevitable discussion with her dad, but she couldn't stall forever.

"So how did the internship go?" he asked over dinner.

"It went well. I fetched coffee and pestered editors to let me write something."

"Good."

She ate a bite of salad slowly. "And, I realized I don't want to work at a newspaper."

Chris put his fork down to focus on her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean it's not for me. I didn't like it very much. And there aren't tons of jobs anyway. So it's good I found out now, this is what internships are for."

He was shaking his head. "No. This is exactly why I didn't want you to do this. Who talked to you?"

"Lots of people." At his impatience, she asked, "What makes you think someone talked to me?"

"Gigi, did someone help you come to this little realization?"

She sighed. "I had dinner with the publisher, and we had a good talk."

Chris shook his head again, and got up to pace. "I can't believe this. I hate these people. Lorelai was right about them."

"It's okay, really. I'm fine."

She shouldn't have been surprised when he hosted an intervention the next day. He tried to play it down when he showed up at the house in the middle of the day and suggested they go out for lunch. It wasn't until they turned down a back road that she became suspicious.

"Where are we going?"

"I told you," Chris said from the driver's seat. "Lunch."

"In Stars Hollow," she said flatly. "This isn't necessary."

Lorelai and Rory were already seated at a table for four in the dining room of the Dragonfly when they went in. Gigi reluctantly pulled out a chair and sat next to Rory.

"Hey Gigi, how's it going?"

"Fine." She silently shifted her eyes to her father to give him an annoyed stare.

A waiter came over with the menus and told them the specials. A few awkward minutes passed as Lorelai and Rory each shared furtive glances with Chris. Lorelai glanced over at her daughter to give her a pointed look.

"Uh, right. So, Gigi," Rory started, shooting for upbeat and determined but landing at stilted. "How did the internship go?"

"Great."

"Really? That's good. Everyone was nice to you?"

"Yes, very nice."

Rory tentatively eyed their father, obviously unsure of how to proceed now that she'd hit a wall. With probing interview skills like hers, it was no wonder she was drawn to journalism. "I heard you got to talk with the publisher one-on-one," she tried again. Gigi didn't say anything, she just nodded and raised her brows to silently question what the point was. "Um, what did you two talk about?"

Giving Rory a taste of her own medicine, Gigi answered, "Nothing, really."

"Come on, Gi'g we won't judge you," Chris said. "We want to help you."

"Help me do what?"

Without prompting this time, Rory said, "Help you stay on track. Is it true you don't want to be a reporter anymore?"

"Yes, but it's not a big deal."

"Gigi, just tell us what that woman said to you," Chris said.

"That's between me and Ms. Stiles."

He frowned. "Stiles? I knew a Stiles. Digger."

"You mean her husband, Jason."

"Yeah, but everyone calls him Digger. Remember him from camp?" Chris asked Lorelai. "He almost got his head shoved in a toilet that one time. God I hate that guy."

Rory shared a glance with Lorelai, and they both avoided eye contact with Chris, leaving Something unsaid. But this time Gigi knew what it was. "Lorelai dated him."

Lorelai quickly looked up at her in surprise and then to Chris.

He scoffed. "She wouldn't date Digger Stiles. I know she hated him, he flipped her canoe." He looked at her. "Right?"

Put on the spot, she floundered for a second. "He was in business with Dad, and Mom hated him!" she said defensively. "It wasn't serious."

"That's true," Rory said. "She didn't even call Grandpa the master manipulator when they broke up."

Chris gaped at her, incredulous. "I can't believe you dated Digger. How did I not know this?"

"You were busy with other things," Rory said pointedly. She had to use a euphemism since 'other things' was sitting next to her.

"No one knew," Lorelai said. "I didn't tell people."

"Now that part makes sense," he said.

Lorelai shifted awkwardly to put her focus back on Gigi. "We aren't here to discuss me. We're here to stop you from making a mistake."

Gigi said, "I don't understand why you're worried. I haven't gone out and done anything stupid, like steal a yacht."

"What?" Chris asked.

Rory opened her mouth and her eyes widened, startled that the truth wasn't safely buried.

"Hey," Lorelai said in a warning tone, leaning in. "No one did anything stupid."

Gigi scoffed and leaned in too. "Stealing a yacht is the stupidest thing I ever heard." She turned to her father and pointed a finger at Rory. "She got arrested."

Chris looked at his older daughter. "I can't believe it. That's not you at all."

"She had help," Lorelai stressed, prepared to fight all of Rory's battles from here to eternity.

Chris shook his head. "I had no idea you were going through all that," he said sympathetically.

Lorelai frowned at Gigi. "You're lucky to have a sister who cares about you so much. We're here because she knows what you're going through, not to attack her."

"Mom, it's okay, she's right," Rory said bravely. "I did something stupid because I believed what an important person said to me. I listened to him when I shouldn't have." She said, "These people—they've deluded themselves into thinking their opinions matter."

Lorelai nodded and tagged in, "They were lucky enough to have someone as incredible as Rory working for them, and they made her feel terrible. That alone should tell you they don't have a clue."

"That's right," Rory said. "Arrogance comes with the job title. Don't make any rash decisions because of some unfounded feedback from someone who doesn't care about you."

"It isn't her job to care about me," Gigi said. "She did me a favor."

"That's exactly what I was told." Rory shook her head tersely. "I knew everyone in that family was the same. I hate her for doing this to you."

Gigi rested her forehead on the table. "Oh my god," she breathed. She lifted her head. "I understand why you're all concerned," she said with forced patience. "But people change their plans in college all the time. It's normal."

"I thought the same thing," Rory said. "Then a few months later, the fog lifted and I realized I'd made a huge mistake to let anyone make me feel inadequate for even a second."

Of course. No Gilmore should ever have to feel that. Inadequacy was for the mere morals. Gigi asked, "You just had an epiphany one day and decided he was wrong?"

"He was wrong," Lorelai said.

Rory nodded. "It just hit me that I wasn't living the life I was supposed to," she said. "I looked around and I was living with my grandparents and planning events for the DAR. That isn't my life."

This was impossible. These people weren't going to let her change her life trajectory. They saw the situation through Rory goggles and couldn't see it any other way. There was no escape. This was a cult, and they were drunk on Kool Aid.

Very gently, quiet even, Rory asked, "Did she tell you that you don't have it?" Without waiting for a response she said, "Because I've read your stuff, and it's good."

Chris lifted a hand. "See? Rory says it's good, and she knows what's good. You don't need to listen to anyone else."

Gigi looked back at Rory to answer, "She didn't say I don't have it."

Rory's expression was blank at first. She opened her mouth, closed it. She looked like a fish. "Oh. Well, good."

Gigi almost smiled. "Exactly how much clerical work did you do during your internship?"

Rory's eyes were vacant, but she looked back at Gigi, perplexed.

"I don't understand," Chris said. "Why don't you want to work at a newspaper anymore?"

Gigi resolved to divulge a bit, "Does anyone find it pathetic that I'm still trying to be like my big sister?"

Lorelai frowned. "Of course you want to be like Rory, she's phenomenal."

Don't laugh. Don't laugh. Do not laugh.

"You're the luckiest kid in the world to have her to look up to," Chris added. "You hit the jackpot as far as siblings go."

Rory, accustomed to hearing such false praise, didn't bat an eye. "I admit I was a little worried when you seemed to be pursuing journalism as a career, but like Mom said, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. And if it's what you wanted to do, far be it from me to discourage you."

Gigi stared at her, incredulous. "But I'm over the age of twelve. It's childish." She rubbed her face and looked at Chris. "Can I talk to you in private?"

Lorelai and Rory shared another look and got up, scurrying out of the dining room.

Gigi didn't say anything for a long moment. Her father waited patiently, while eager to hear whatever it was she had to say. She contemplated how to best vocalize her feelings. "I am not just like Rory," she finally said slowly. "I only try to be to make you happy."

He frowned at her. "What?"

"It makes you so happy, but I've been faking it—the coffee, the books." Her eyes got glassy. "I can't be Rory. I'm not her."

Chris stared at her, now concerned. "I had no idea you felt that way. I know those are pretty big shoes to fill."

She fought the deep desire to roll her eyes. "And I've been trying a little too hard to fill them. This is too far. I'm not the one who wanted to be a reporter, Rory is. And it made you so happy, and I really want to make you happy."

He said, "I'm sorry, I never meant to make you feel like you couldn't be yourself."

"I just, I never thought it was fair you got stuck with me—the imperfect daughter."

His eyes softened. "I've always felt it was unfair you only have me."

She quietly said, "I was never disappointed with you." She asked, "Can we just go? Please."

XXX

Francine Hayden entered the sunroom with a tray of sandwiches and tea. She placed it in the middle of the table so they could share. Gigi picked up a tuna sandwich and took a bite. Slowly, she said, "I have some news."

"Oh," Francine said with a concerned frown. She put down her tea. "What is it?"

"I'm not going to work at a newspaper after college."

Her grandmother's brow raised. "I thought that's what you wanted to do." She'd never been thrilled about it, but always kept quiet.

Gigi sighed and shook her head. "Not anymore. I just wanted to make Dad happy, and imitating Rory was the best way to do that." She continued, "But I'm not doing that anymore."

Francine nodded curtly. "Good." She was the only one, until now, that never thought this was cute. "It's about time you stop." Then she asked, "What made you change your mind?"

"I talked to Jennifer Stiles, she's the publisher where I did my internship," Gigi said, summarizing what the woman had said. "And I think she's probably right."

"Thank goodness. I could never say anything, it would upset Christopher." Francine narrowed her eyes in thought. "Now Jennifer Stiles is a Dugray, I think."

"Yeah, do you know her?"

Francine nodded. "The Dugrays, I know from Princeton alumni events. And Rory's grandfather worked with Floyd Stiles at the insurance company, of course."

A few vague thoughts swam around Gigi's mind. Spock and Serak. Chris would have worked with Richard Gilmore, but he'd be discontent. Sloan Stiles chipperly answering the phone, she could have clients in seven years.

Francine added, "They don't live far from here."

Gigi's heart lept. "Really?"

"Yes. They're all from Hartford."

"Do you know where they live?"

Francine held up a finger and got up. She went deeper into the house, and Gigi heard a drawer open and close. It was a few minutes later when her grandmother returned with a slip of paper, handing it over. Gigi looked down at the address, then at the time on the nearest clock. She could go there—to their house—this evening. She could tell Jennifer in person that she was taking her advice. She slipped the leaf of paper in her back pocket for later.

"What do you think you might like to do after college?" her grandmother asked.

"I'm not sure," Gigi answered. "But something realistic, and secure."

Francine looked approving. "That's smart."

Gigi left her grandmother's house feeling much lighter. She pulled out the address to the Stiles house and typed it into an app on her phone to see how far away it was. She made the drive and stood in front of the two story house. She walked up to the door and pressed the bell, waiting anxiously.

The door swung open, revealing the only member of the Stiles family whose name she still didn't know. Something inside of her flopped. His face easily lifted to a smile. "You found me?"

"I, um—I came to talk to your mom, actually." Her mouth twisted, unable to hold back a smile. She flirted, "You living here too is just bonus."

He smirked, but then it fell. "How's the guy?"

"Guy?"

"From the party?"

"Oh. He was just some guy. He's gone now."

He nodded. "Interesting."

"I'm actually taking a hiatus from boys."

"Oh. That's . . . smart." That was the consensus for the day. He looked behind him at the sound of a dog padding towards him, and pulled the door closer so the opening was small. Blocking the way from a giant brown animal that wanted to see who was at the door, he said, "Bones, no. Stay inside."

Gigi took a step back. "Whoa. Is that a horse?"

He looked back at her. "It's a dog—a bullmastiff."

"I thought the dog's name was McCoy."

He nodded. "Yeah. Dr. Leonard McCoy . . . Stiles."

"Then why do you call him Bones?"

"What else would we call him?" he asked. "He's not perfectly behaved like our old dog, Sirius. Sirius was one good dog, may he rest in peace."

"Did your sister name Cyrus?"

He shook his head. "No, why?"

"Miley Cyrus?"

"No, Sirius, like dog star. The perfect name for a dog."

Gigi's forehead scrunched up. "You mean like Sirius Black, who turned into a dog?" she asked, pointedly pronouncing it 'serious'. "Why are you saying it wrong?"

The Stiles boy shifted his weight from one foot to the other and put his hands at his waist. "He already had a name when I met him."

"Okay. Uh, so, is your mom here?"

"No, she and my dad went out to dinner."

"Oh, okay. Well, I should go," she said, turning slightly.

The boy reached out, as though to grab her. "Wait, are you doing anything now?"

"No."

"Let's walk."

Gigi looked out at the sky, which was clouding. It looked like it would start to rain any minute. But the boy either didn't notice or didn't mind, fitting a black hat with a mean looking bird on his head. He pulled on a black jacket with a Princeton tiger emblem on the breast and zipped it up, then twisted around to yell inside the house, "Sloan, I'm going out for a little while." Facing her again, he said. "Come on."

Slow thunder rolled ominously and Gigi eyed the clouds as they started down the sidewalk. The sky continued to darken as they walked away from the subdivision, towards businesses in a newer part of town. When they walked by a clothing store whose sound system played out on the sidewalk, Gigi paused to listen. It was Justin Timberlake. "Ooh, I like this song."

The boy stopped too, and started bobbing his head, watching as Gigi gracefully did some ballet moves to the hip hop beat. He started to bop around her, with the cheesy awkward dance moves only a white guy could pull off. It thundered again, and big drops started falling from the sky. They came down slow at first, and then fell in earnest, but the two of them continued dancing.

Gigi was smiling at him when the music stopped. "You have some good moves."

"I know," he said with a smirk. "Yours aren't bad either."

"Thanks. I wonder if I can still . . ." She trailed off, taking a deep breath and concentrating. She slowly lifted herself onto her toes, then raised her arms and left leg until it was perpendicular with the ground. She held it for as long as she could—about two seconds—and lowered herself, letting her breath out. "I can still do it."

He stared. "So that's . . . a thing you can do."

She grinned and turned to continue walking, ducking her head. Far from perturbed by the rain, her companion looked content. He pointed up ahead. "We can go in here, so you don't rust."

Squinting through the drops to look up at him she asked, "Why would I rust?"

"Like the Tin Man, he rusted when it started to rain. People always say melt to reference the witch but that was from a bucket of water."

Gigi argued, "If a bucket of water melted her, then we can safely assume rain would do the trick too."

"Yes, but rusting like the Tin Man is more accurate."

Her brows furrowed and she poorly stifled a chuckle. "You're weird."

The corner of his mouth quirked up. "That's what they tell me, so it must be true," he said, leading her into the cafe, where it was warm and dry. "Do you want something?"

She checked the beverages on the menu behind the counter. "Hot chocolate." She took out a few dollars to hand him, which he ignored as he turned away to order. She found an empty table for two and sat down, taking off her wet jacket.

He joined her with two mugs, sliding one over to her. He took a sip and said, "I'll start drinking coffee one day when I grow up. I'm sure it'll taste really good by then."

She sipped from her own cup and shook her head. "It won't. If you have to drink hot brown water, it might as well taste like chocolate."

"Mmm," he said, nodding his agreement. "So are you from here?"

She shrugged. "Sort of. My dad says we're from Hartford. But I was born in Boston. We moved here when I was three."

He pointed at himself. "My parents say the same thing. But I'm from Seattle. If I argue, one of them says something gross about how I was made in Hartford."

She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "Your dad dated Lorelai."

"Who's that?"

"My sister's mom. If she married your dad she would have been your stepmom instead of mine," she said.

But he shook his head. "I don't think so. My dad is Jason."

"So?"

"So, he's slow. It took him three years to realize he liked having a family." He shook his head. "No stepmom for me."

Like his mother, he seemed sure. Gigi wasn't convinced yet. She asked, "Were you ever mad you didn't know your dad until you were three?"

"No," he said slowly. "I was still really little when I met him. I know he wasn't always there, but I can't remember that."

She nodded once. "My mom was around until I was two, allegedly."

"I just remember being very happy to get a dad." He was hesitant at first, then decided to say, "It's probably easier to forgive someone who came to say rather than one who left for good. Are you mad at your mom?"

She averted her gaze. "Anger is a useless emotion."

"That's logical." He lifted his mug to his lips and muttered, "Not really an answer to the question."

Gigi decided to change the subject, not wanting him to think she dwelled on this stuff all the time. "Are you a Trekkie?"

"I thought that was established." He leaned back and crossed his arms. His brow raised slightly in defiance. "Before you make any clever 'beam me up, Scotty' references, you should know Captain Kirk never said that. I'd hate for you to look ignorant when you mock me."

Her lips sealed shut, she restrained a small smile. "I won't mock you for liking what you like."

"Thank you," he said, uncrossing his arms and taking another sip. They were both quiet for a minute. He glanced out the window at the rain and commented, "I'm moving back there, to Seattle. After graduation in a couple months."

He was a senior. And he was leaving. The disappointment slowly settled in, all the way down to the pit of her stomach. "Oh." She blinked a couple times. "To do what?"

"I got a job at Google, they have an office there."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks. What about you? Do you want to be a reporter or something?"

"Not really. I was going through a phase and your mom called me out," she said. "I don't know what I want to do, but I have a couple of years to figure it out."

They sat together until they were finished with their hot chocolate and decided to leave when it didn't look like it was going to let up outside. The walk back was just as wet, with an added evening chill. Gigi planned to take a hot shower as soon as she got home. She slowed down to a stop when they got to her car, rather than accompanying him to the front door.

"Did you still want to talk to my mom?" he asked.

Gigi looked up at the house. "That's okay. She'll figure it out when she doesn't hear from me."

"Okay." He continued to look down at her. He opened his mouth to say something, but didn't at first. Then abruptly, "Xavier Stiles."

"What?"

"My name, it's Xavier Stiles. It takes the mystery out of things, but that was a deal breaker for you," he said quickly. "That's understandable, mine is Patriots fans—which makes me nervous since you're from Boston. But you can lift your leg above your head, so I already decided to let it slide this one time." He stuck out his hand. "So, Xavier Stiles, and you are?"

She blinked, too stunned for a moment. She answered, overly truthful, "I don't know."

He wasn't expecting that. His shoulders fell an inch. "Oh, well, let me know when you find out."

She quickly took his hand to shake before he could drop it. "My name is Georgia. I go by Gigi."

"Like the model?"

"Yeah, but Hayden, not Hadid."

"Close enough." He looked up at the house and then turned back. "Well, bye Gigi." She said good bye and opened her car door, when Xavier turned back on his way up to the house, his palm facing up, helplessly. He called out, "If you're ever in Seattle . . ."