Authors Note: Thank you so much for the feedback/favourites/views already! I am a tad on the impatient side, and the next chapter is ready to go, so without further ado! Also, please continue to let me know what you think!
Four months later
Logan cursed his luck, an unexpected business trip had brought him back to California for the last four days, and now thanks to a snow storm back east, his flight was delayed. He paced back and forth in the terminal cursing himself for taking the business trip in the first place. It could have waited, but instead, he thought a few days back in the sunshine would do him good. Now however, he wishing he hadn't gone, not now. Not the night before Richard's memorial service.
He still had not contacted Rory, after a few days of waiting he no longer felt the sudden urge to contact her. By the time Finn had called back with details of the arrangements, Logan was busy coordinating his move to New York, and didn't have time to let his thoughts dwell on Rory.
The delay in the memorial service was to give the family time to pull themselves together. Emily had been an absolute mess, refusing to leave her home. It was quite the scandal in the DAR, when she showed up a few weeks later drunk, Honor had told him.
An hour later, and his flight was finally boarding. Barring no more delays, he might just make it in time. As quickly as it hadn't been a priority, it had become one once again. He had to go see her, make sure she was ok.
After a lengthy flight, especially turbulent for the last half hour, an announcement came over the aircraft.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we apologise for the delay, but unfortunately, due to the weather conditions we will not be landing in New York tonight. We will be re-routing to Boston."
Logan slammed his hand down on his tray table, shaking his glass of water, and startling the person sitting in front of him.
A stewardess gave him a stern look, and he gave a half smile, an embarrassed apology. This should not have been a big deal to him, and he knew it. Rory had not been a part of his life for the last eight years, but part of him held on to the idea, that as much as she had hurt him, he needed to be there for her, for this.
Landing in Boston, Logan sprinted through the terminal to find the closest car rental service, at two o'clock in the morning there was only one open, with about 10 people in line in front of him. As the line in front of him reduced, he kept looking at his watch, trying to figure out whether or not he would be able to get back to Hartford in time. The storm was inching closer and closer to Boston, and it was predicted to be one of the worst storms of the season.
"I'm sorry sir, all we have are luxury cars that we generally do not rent out during snowstorms because they are not equipped with winter tires."
Logan replied "I don't care what you normally do, I need a car now, and I'll pay double your normal rate if I have to."
The clerk's eyes went wide, but he started the paperwork.
Fifteen minutes later, Logan was pulling out of the parking lot, as the first snowflakes started to fall.
The weather conditions had quickly deteriorated, and Logan found himself driving down the I90 at a snails pace in an effort to keep the car on the road. Looking at the time on the dashboard he cursed himself, it was now 5 am, and Logan was still in Massachusetts. He was exhausted, having been up for almost a full day at this point, and the heat blasting in the car was not helping matters.
Logan found his eyes getting heavy, he fought and fought to keep them open, he had to keep going. Suddenly Logan felt a jerking motion, a thump and a pop. His eyes had drooped long enough that he had drifted toward the shoulder. Clearly he had hit something. He threw his coat and gloves back on, and climbed out of the car to assess the damage. The front passenger side tire was flat, the rim bent at an awkward angle. Opening the trunk he discovered that there was no spare tire.
"Shit, shit shit" he cursed himself. He was having no luck today, and began to think the universe was telling him that he wasn't supposed to go see Rory.
He climbed back into the car, and quickly went through his phone to determine if he knew anyone nearby who might be able to help him out. He wasn't near any major towns or cities, and with the storm most sane people were hunkered down in their warm, dry, homes.
Left without many options, Logan decided to take the one step, he did not want to do.
"Hello? Dad? Look, yeah I know it's early but this is important..."
...
The memorial service had been beautiful, it was clear just how well loved her grandfather was. All of Hartford's society had been there with one notable exception- the Huntzbergers, and she was not surprised, considering, well, everything that had went on between the two families. Honor had sent her condolences, but with being eight and a half months pregnant, her doctor had expressed wishes that she should not be travelling.
Many had come to support Rory though, both expected and unexpected. Lane, Paris, and Jess were there for her like they always were. She and Jess had reconnected a few years back, and after a failed date, realized what they had between them, was a solid friendship, nothing more. She had been surprised to see Madeline and Louise, Lucy and Olivia, and even Dean.
A tiny part of her hoped that Logan might come, but he had made it clear, it was all or nothing, and for the last eight years, it was clear that the nothing was going to continue. She had tried calling him, from those early weeks on the campaign trail, but he had already changed his phone number. She could have emailed him, sure, but frankly, she hadn't given up on him, it was he who gave up on her. She was willing to fight for them, and he just walked away, like a spoiled brat with his tail between his legs.
This reception however was trying on her nerves, between friends that she loved, and the ladies of the DAR, Rory was spent, and really not in the mood to make any small talk, but she was essentially trapped. Her mother had taken her grandmother up to bed- Emily was still not handling things well, and Lorelai was staying upstairs until Emily got settled. In other words, Rory was currently the last Gilmore standing in this room full of people.
She could only shake so many hands, and be offered condolences so many times before she wanted to snap. This had been a trying day, Rory remained stoic, having shed all her tears months ago, she and Lorelai were the pillars of strength that Emily needed. Rory had even taken the last four months off as an extended leave of absence and had moved back into the pool house, to help take care of Emily after the incident at the DAR. That would be changing soon though, a few more days and Rory would be back in the world of journalism, writing stories about things she didn't care about. She snorted at the thought. This was not where her life was supposed to be at this point. The only thing she wrote that she was truly happy with in the last two years was her eulogy to her grandfather, which had taken her two months to perfect.
As she saw Lorelai slip back into the room, she took that as her cue to sneak back out. She quietly made her way for the pool house when she heard her name called from behind her.
"Ms. Gilmore"
She tried to ignore the calling of her name, pretending she didn't hear it.
"Rory!"
Whoever it was, was persistent. She turned around to be standing face to face with Headmaster Charleston, whom she had successfully evaded all night up until this point. He had been emailing her for months asking her to come back to Chilton for a career day, to talk about her journalism. She had been avoiding emailing him back, she was no success story, not yet, and she was beginning to believe, not ever, at the rate she was going.
"Headmaster Charleston, I'm really sorry, I'm on my way to check on my grandmother. It has been a difficult few months as I am sure you can imagine, you'll have to excuse me, but I will be back shortly." Rory lied.
"Of course, Ms. Gilmore, we can talk then." he replied.
Rory re-routed herself to make it appear she was headed toward the upstairs of the house, before making a sharp turn at the kitchen and sneaking out the back door.
Walking into the pool house, she sighed. Finally, silence. She closed the curtains, slipped off her dress, and put on a comfortable old pair of pyjamas. Walking toward the counter, she grabbed a glass and poured some scotch from her grandfather's decanter. She had swiped the decanter from his office weeks ago, but had not been able to bring herself to drink it. Now, she felt like this was the right time. An all new low Gilmore, she thought to herself. Drinking alone.
She turned on the propane fireplace, and curled up in a chair, holding tight to the glass of scotch in her hand.
Hearing the pool house door open behind her, Rory felt her heart sink. She couldn't keep doing this.
"Look mom, I'm sorry, but I can't go back in there." Rory said, with only silence for a response.
Rory was about to turn around to tell whoever it was to go away when she heard a familiar voice.
"Hey Ace."