The Gilmore Tour
"Dragons." Even for taciturn Luke, this was a rather abrupt start to a phone call.
"Dungeons," she replied in a confidential tone.
"Hey Lorelai, this is your bit, I'm just trying to make it work," Luke sighed.
What the heck? He calls me without so much as a 'hello' then gives ME grief for not catching on? Lorelai sighed. So much work.
"OK, dragons? You see dragons?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Do you need rescuing?" Lorelai began squirming with anticipation.
"Yes." Luke's voice grew deeper, sexier.
"When?"
"Urgently, the lull here in the diner won't last more than a couple of hours."
"You're in luck. My white horse is saddled and ready to go."
"I'll be here, hiding from the dragons."
"Naked?" she asked playfully.
"As you wish," he replied, wondering what she would do if she knew he already was naked. He looked forward to seeing her face when he told her. "You can come in the private entrance, no need to come through the diner. The door in the back is unlocked."
"On my way."
A plague of dragons harassed Stars Hollow, unseen by most citizens, laughed at by Rory, and valiantly battled at both Luke's apartment and the Crap Shack by the lovers. Strange comings and goings between the two homes went largely undetected; only Kirk imagined the smell of brimstone once, but he was persuaded that it was simply eggs gone bad at Doose's Market.
In other unprecedented, probably mythological events, Luke was seen in the diner serving a family of five, including a baby. And Luke was smiling. After delivering extra packets of Concord grape jam to the little ones, he retreated to the safety of his counter and began his private study.
Could he see himself with kids? Not kids like those, obviously. They were loud and messy and the parents could hardly control them. A couple of kids like Rory, now that would work fine. Luke went back to cleaning the counter, giving himself license to dream a little.
Other minor changes were happening in their lives. Tea was available at the Gilmore home, and a used coffee machine appeared in the apartment for those times when the diner was closed. Fruit and sandwich ingredients had once been all but banned at the Crap Shack, a throwback to the times when that was all the food the girls could afford, but it reappeared now to feed Luke when they spent evenings there.
Rory loved studying in the diner after school, but on Monday when a ten-year-old boys' soccer team invaded her Shakespeare studies, Luke sent her upstairs for some peace and quiet. The soft murmur of the clients in the diner made a good background noise, not too intrusive, making her feel like she wasn't alone. The best part of studying in Luke's apartment, though, was the ever-present coffee one short flight of stairs away. He added Coke to the stash of juice in his fridge and kept a bowl of fruit on the table. He noticed the fruit gradually disappearing and enjoyed a moment of smug satisfaction.
Lorelai managed to slip out of the inn for a longer break one day, and the three of them had coffee and pie upstairs before Lorelai and Luke had to return to work. Rory took the opportunity to invite both of them to the dry run of her debate on Friday.
Digital photos taken by Dean at the lake were printed and shared. A photo of the girls showed up on Luke's nightstand while more photos of them at the lake decorated Lorelai's mantel. One modest picture, taken by Rory, gave Dean a special spot on Rory's bulletin board in her bedroom.
Both adults began aligning schedules, tweaking here and there, trying to make more time together. Luke the independent guy allowed Lorelai to start doing his books, which she often did evenings waiting for him to close the diner.
For the first time in her young life Rory looked out over the crowd of parents at the debate dry run and saw two smiling faces trying to catch her eye instead of just her mother's faithful grin. Luke and Lorelai, both in suits, arm in arm, looked as if they'd been together forever. When they looked briefly at each other, so in love, Rory's heart swelled with happiness.
"What in the world are these people so afraid of?" asked Luke. "Each of these houses has high walls and iron gates. It looks like a row of tiny little prisons."
"Amen, sister friend," mumbled Lorelai under her breath as she drove down the street where her parents lived.
"Hey, that one looks familiar. Isn't that house in a picture on your mantel, Lorelai?" asked Dean.
"That's Grandma and Grandpa's house," said Rory proudly. "It's really nice inside."
"Looks lonely with all those stone walls," observed Luke without sarcasm.
"I think Grandma does get lonely sometime, especially when Grandpa has to work a lot of overtime or is traveling, but she has the DAR and friends and such."
"She's got 'Fire and Hire a Maid Day,' which is as good for her as Danish Day is for us," quipped Lorelai. "Don't forget Friday Night Dinner, and I'm sure she takes at least three days out of the week to plan for that."
"Should we stop and say hello?" asked Luke. Lorelai groaned.
"No, Grandma's in New York for the day and Grandpa's in Philadelphia. No one's home," replied Rory.
"We could go in and touch all their stuff," suggested Lorelai, a manic spark in her eye. "We could move everything by, like half an inch and turn it all sideways just a little, so they keep falling over stuff."
Three pair of eyes rolled in sync.
"Do we really have to go in here?"
"C'mon, Luke, not you, too. Mom's bad enough today. We're just going inside the lobby of the hospital. We won't see any blood or injuries, I promise."
"No screwdrivers sticking out of people's heads, either, Luke," taunted Lorelai. Luke just pulled his cap tighter on his head and looked down at his feet, causing Lorelai to put her arm around him in comfort.
"Everybody, just be quiet!" demanded Rory, leading them into the building.
She glared at them and pointed silently to the place they were to stand and look at a painting of Rory's great-grandfather Gilmore. Using money from his long since defunct businesses, he established a footprint of good works which outlived the man himself. His wife Trix carried on his work even after she moved to London years ago.
They stepped outside, giving Luke a chance to breathe again and return a normal healthy glow to his skin instead of the greenish tinge it had while listening to Rory's explanations about the benefits of the heart surgery center her great-grandfather had endowed the hospital.
"So far, we've just seen Gilmore traces around Hartford," said Rory in her best tour guide voice, "But now we're going to see some signs of Grandma's family, the Irwins."
In contrast to the Gilmores, who were relative newcomers to Connecticut, the Irwins were truly founding ancestors, providing Emily with access to the Daughters of the American Revolution. Emily's father, though not an Irwin, provided the family with sufficient wealth to give his daughters the opportunity to marry into current Hartford society, which Emily had executed with aplomb. Her sister Hope had a more difficult time, ultimately ending up in Paris rather than at the head of her own DAR organization somewhere in Connecticut or New York.
Their ancestor Denny Irwin had served nobly in the Revolutionary War and left a trail of his accomplishments in the archives of the Connecticut Historical Society. Luke couldn't help thinking back to his father and the other re-enactors of Stars Hollow; playing out stories that Lorelai's family had actually lived in their day.
Dean became quieter as the afternoon progressed. His family, like the overwhelming majority of Americans, came from an ancestry which could hardly be traced more than five generations back. The more Rory explained her family's history, the more he saw her as not just Stars Hollow's sweetheart, but an American princess, and himself as a commoner. The thought of the Gilmore money pushed him even further away, wondering how he could compete with these attractions.
As they entered a large park, intent on reading more bronze plaques discussing exploits of persons possibly related to the Gilmore girls, Lorelai squeaked from happiness. "Ice cream!" she exclaimed, "Let's go!" She grabbed Rory by the arm and they scampered across the green towards the creamery.
Luke and Dean lowered themselves heavily onto a nearby bench.
"Would it have been too much to ask that one of those ancestors be a ballplayer?" Dean sighed.
"Doesn't really matter in the long run, Dean. You wouldn't believe how many people in Stars Hollow have a similar ancestry. They just don't make a big deal out of it, because they know a man's ancestry doesn't define his character. Too many people in Hartford society hide behind those gated walls and their great- great- great-grandparents. It's just stupid," he ranted tiredly. "A man's gotta stand up for who he is, not who his ancestors were."
"A woman, too," agreed Dean, morose over Rory's pedigree.
Sitting peacefully on the bench, Luke closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the sun. A whiff of Lorelai's perfume preceded the pain of her elbow digging into his shoulder.
"Hi," she said, "brought something for you." She held a cardboard bowl with ice cream under his nose.
Before he could indignantly refuse it, reminding her he didn't eat such things except on special occasions, he noticed the tiny blue plastic baseball cap decorating the bowl.
"I ordered a clown cup for you, with the cone stuck upside down on the bowl as a hat, but then I saw these teeny-tiny baseball caps and couldn't resist."
Luke's glorious smile flashed across his face before he realized he was supposed to be grumpy about her forcing ice cream on him. "You know I never eat ice cream, and even if, I'd never eat three scoops."
"You do so eat ice cream! I've seen you, but anyway this isn't ice cream, it's sorbet, and since I didn't know which flavors to get you, I just bought the ones that sounded disgusting. Try them!"
He looked doubtfully at the bowl, knitted his eyebrows together, then asked, "Where's the clown face? Aren't they supposed to put a clown face on the ice cream with M&Ms or something?"
"Rory ate the clown's face on the way over here," Lorelai half-lied.
"Mom! You started it! I just grabbed my share before you ate them all." Dean snickered as Rory acted shocked.
"So I've got a faceless clown wearing a baseball cap?"
"No, you've got a bowl full of sorbet. Eat up, we've got places to go," said Rory.
Luke dipped his spoon into the pink sorbet first. "Mmm, pretty good. Rhubarb and ginger." He followed that taste with the nearly-white sorbet, noticing the crisp lemon flavor, then eventually recognizing the basil. "Also good, but the rhubarb is better."
Nonchalantly digging into the brown ice, he nearly spit it out again. "Lorelai, very funny," Luke growled as her laughter rang infectiously through the square. "Next time, try green tea sorbet instead of coffee."
"On to Catherine Martin!" called Rory as they hopped back in the Jeep.
"Who's Catherine Martin?" asked Dean.
"It's not a who, it's a what. Mom's school, as a matter of fact," answered Rory, ignoring the dirty look from Lorelai.
"Did she have a cool nickname like Butch Danes did?" Dean asked.
"None that can be repeated in mixed company," Lorelai replied airily. "We'd have to cover Luke's ears so his delicate sensibilities wouldn't be scandalized." Luke grumpily brushed her hands away as she tried to cover his ears with her hands.
"My mommy," said Rory proudly, "according to her teacher Mrs. Davidson, was an overachiever. One year she was nominated for Most Popular, Best Debater, and Most Talkative."
"They had an award for not shutting up?" chortled Luke. "You were a shoo-in for that one, Lorelai."
"In fifth grade there was hardly a difference between that and Best Debater. All I ever had to do was talk fast and stare the other debate team down. We won every debate."
"Oh my god, Mom, you were Paris! I can't believe my own mother and Paris Geller are the same person."
By this time they had entered the school and made their way to the gym, where the basketball team was practicing. Stepping carefully around the edge of the court, Lorelai guided them to the bleachers at the far side of the gym.
"What are you looking for, Lorelai?" asked Luke, concerned that she might hurt herself as she started to climb the accordion-style metal framework under the bleachers.
"Dean, come here! You're tall. Can you reach up there?" Lorelai said in a stage whisper.
"I feel a plastic bag, is that what you want?" Dean asked, looking around as if he were about to get caught at something.
"Yes! Yes! That's it! Hurry bring down!" She snatched the bag from his hands and opened it hurriedly.
"How cool!" Rory exclaimed as her mother pulled out one item after another. "It's like an eighties' time capsule."
Lorelai placed the barrette with feathers hanging from it in her hair immediately. "Look! Here's a green lipstick! It turns pink when you wear it." She stroked it across her hand and watched excitedly, but the only thing that happened was the green streak started to itch, so she wiped it off quickly.
A pair of Jelly shoes crumbled in her hands as she pulled them out of the bag. The slap bracelet she slapped onto Rory's wrist stayed in place, eliciting a "Cool!" comment from her.
The spare set of shoulder pads she'd kept in the bag had an odd smell, so she tossed them off to the side. Reaching deep in the bag she brought out the last two items: Airheads candy and a zippo lighter.
"Ooh, Airheads," she cooed, as she opened the package.
"No! Absolutely not! You are not eating twenty-year-old candy," lectured Luke as he took it away from her. "What are you thinking? And what were you doing with a lighter?"
"Read those initials, spoilsport," she challenged.
"E.G." Luke read. "Not a spoilsport, I'm just trying to keep you alive."
"Grandma? Grandma smoked? Now that's hard to imagine," Rory said.
"At some point she quit, and I found this lighter. I tried cigarettes, but they made the food taste bad, and I liked food better. She never said a word about the lighter. Let's ask her if she still smokes at Friday Night Dinner this week." Lorelai smiled evilly.
"Only if you tell her you stole her lighter," cautioned Rory. "Then not," replied Lorelai, pocketing the lighter.
A short drive later brought them to the Overlook-Stanley hotel, an imposing structure in old Hartford, with an enormous stone façade and a red-carpet entry with doormen and bellmen.
"Remember this hotel, Mom?" asked Rory. "Grandma says you loved this place."
"No, no memory at all," said Lorelai as she looked around the three-story lobby, two floors of ballrooms and meeting rooms above the ground floor. Giant bouquets of fresh flowers decorated strategically-placed tables, providing a touch of privacy to the well-dressed guests sitting at the sofas scattered about the lobby. Suddenly Luke and Dean were happy they'd worn date clothes instead of their regular worn jeans.
"Although … Could this be where my cotillion took place?" she asked.
"Exactly! You were here for your cotillion as well as Aunt Hope's wedding." Proceeding up the grand marble staircase, they immediately entered the large ballroom.
"Grandma says this is where Aunt Hope got married when you were just four years old. There were over three hundred guests, a champagne fountain and a live orchestra."
"Somewhere in my bedroom at Mom's she has preserved my flower girl basket, I think. There are also pictures somewhere of me twirling in my dress." Lorelai couldn't resist another twirl or two right then.
"These are pictures we need to see," said Dean, with Luke smiling and nodding in agreement.
"Forget it," grumped Lorelai, who was immediately interrupted by Rory whipping copies of said pictures out of her purse and distributing them to the others.
"It looks like you're drowning in a stack of lace curtains!" laughed Dean, holding up one picture.
"That dress was the perfect twirling dress!" insisted Lorelai. "Twirling is a great crowd pleaser. I remember getting applause for my twirling skills."
"Then this must have gotten you a standing ovation," commented Luke, showing her a picture of just-turned-four Lorelai, bent over to adjust her shoe. Her dress and half the petticoats had fallen forward over her head and her face could barely be seen. The rest of the petticoats cascaded down her back, showing her tights.
"I am so burning these," she said, pulling out Emily's lighter.
A few impotent spins of the flint wheel frustrated Lorelai's attempt and Rory made the thought even more useless by telling her there were several copies made and stored in safe locations. Luke looked through the last pictures in his hand, blinked in mild surprise and then tucked them into his pocket.
"Do you remember cotillion, Mom?" Rory asked next.
"Yes! It was a nightmare. Every move was scrutinized; I was constantly being lectured and was told I was doing everything wrong."
"Grandma has a different opinion," Rory offered, "and I think she might just be right."
She pulled out another stack of pictures, handing them to Dean, who asked, "What's a cotillion?"
"A cotillion is a process of torturing 10-12 year old children in order to suck the life out of them, leaving nothing but pod children ready to do their parents' bidding."
Dean snickered. "Lorelai, why don't you tell us how you really feel?"
Lorelai looked around the room, hoping for something distracting so she could change the subject. Some workers had come in at the far end of the room and were setting up the grand piano and rolling in stacks of chairs.
"I'll show you, if you don't believe me," she said. "Dean, you stand over here," she instructed, placing him near the center of the room. "You, my sweet sweet boyfriend, stand next to him, but arm's length away." Watching the two men extend their long arms was impressive. Dean was taller and had the longer arm length, but Luke's powerful biceps put Dean's muscles to shame. She gave Luke's arm a squeeze and made goo-goo eyes at him; he rewarded her with an eyeroll.
"I don't want to do this," grumbled Luke.
"Tough. Cotillion is about repressing your free will, not encouraging it. Now imagine this-you've been studying dance and etiquette for months. Your mothers have brought you to classes taught by people like Emily, who is still torturing children to this day, preparing them for cotillion. You know how to dress, which fork to use, how to make small talk with people you detest, this is cotillion nirvana."
Taking Rory by the hand, she led her to stand in front of Luke and she took the same position in front of Dean.
"This is the day of cotillion. Your mothers are lining the hall, watching, ready to jump on you for the smallest infraction. Now the torture begins."
"You must dance with every person of the opposite sex, have a conversation while you do it that entertains them without being dirty or rude, keep that in mind Luke Danes, I have my eye on you! You must bow or curtsey," she and Rory showed them how, and they responded to the girls' curtsies with exaggerated bows.
"Gentlemen, take the lady in your arms for a waltz," Lorelai proclaimed, helping Dean find the right arm positions while Luke smoothly took position near Rory. "Always leave daylight between you and your partner."
She continued in this manner for several more minutes sarcastically educating the others on the rules of cotillion. After a couple of minutes, she made them switch partners. Someone in the back of the room was tickling the piano keys, and when the pianist noticed Luke and Lorelai beginning to dance, he started playing a simple waltz. With real music giving him the beat, Luke smoothly guided Lorelai into a graceful waltz.
"Why Mr. Danes!" she preened, batting her eyes and inching closer to him. "You waltz divinely!"
"Keep daylight between us, I'm not that kind of guy," he bantered. "Pay attention, Rory, these are the things you have to watch out for," he said. "First she'll get too close. Then her hand will 'accidentally' drop lower until she reaches the danger zone." Lorelai walked her fingers down his back, approaching his butt.
"You have to be quick sometimes. Don't let your partner get away with anything," he continued, as he grabbed her hand and repositioned it.
"Why Luke, how could you think such a thing of me!?" Lorelai pouted.
"I had to. It's cheeky characters like you that keep me from dancing more often. I still remember the time Patty got me to dance with her. Never again."
Their waltz over, the group went to the café for a drink before returning to Stars Hollow.
"OK, now for Grandma's cotillion story," said Rory. "Where are the pictures?"
She held up a photo of little Lorelai on the dance floor with a young blonde boy.
"Grandma said you were grumpy for like the first ten minutes, but you loved the dancing. This kid was your first dance and it went fine. The second boy, however, must have said something to tease you, because you apparently attacked him, talking incessantly about horrible things. You made the poor child cry."
"Yeah, she's made me cry a couple of times, too," joked Luke.
"That's all mean little boys deserve!" retorted Lorelai, narrowing her eyes at him.
"You got better, though, Mom, because Grandma said that you picked out the quietest, sweetest boy in the group for the next dance. By the time that dance ended, he was practically in love with you," she explained, showing a picture of a tow-headed boy with stars in his eyes.
"Aw, he looks like you, Luke. Completely unable to resist my many charms," she teased, making the goo-goo eyes again.
"I've got hopes that the miracle of modern medicine will provide an inoculation against that. It's like a plague sometimes," he teased.
"Grandma stepped out for a few minutes, but someone came running to get her, because the whole cotillion had collapsed," Rory said.
"Oh! Was it me? It must have been me!" giggled Lorelai.
"Grandma never found out what happened, but the cotillion was in complete chaos, and she eventually found you under a table with six other kids, sharing a tray of apple tarts."
"Now that's a sign of true leadership skills!" Lorelai crowed.
The last stop on the way home was the Independence Inn, where they walked around to the potting shed. Both Luke and Dean were impressed and shocked at the same time at the austere circumstances under which they had lived. Lorelai noticed the concerned looks on their faces, but was comforted by Rory's glowingly happy face as she recounted the many good times the two of them had. She knew that she had done what she had to do to build a life for the two of them. She might have frequently wished for some things to have been easier, but Lorelai steadfastly refused to have regrets over her choices.
Dean and Rory took the Jeep to the Crap Shack while Luke invited Lorelai to keep him company as he closed the diner. As they went upstairs so Luke could change into his work flannel, he dropped the photos on the table. She picked them up and began flipping through the pictures.
Lorelai looked thoughtful as she held one picture in her hand when Luke joined her, buttoning his green flannel.
"That's my favorite," he said, "You look so happy there. All of you."
"Weird that I can't remember it," pondered Lorelai. "It looks as if Mom was … happy. I don't ever remember her being happy with me, but here she is, holding me and laughing."
"You look happy, too. I've seen that look on your face sometimes, when you're really happy." He rubbed her shoulder, and she put her hand over his.
"I'm happy now," she said, "although I feel as if you'll want to run screaming from me after seeing the seamy side of Hartford society today."
Luke squatted down next to her as she sat at the table. "Look at me, Lorelai."
"You're so pretty, I like looking at you," she said, kissing his nose, whereupon he gave her a wry look.
"I don't care about your past, I care about you and Rory and your happiness. I love you, Lorelai. That doesn't change. It doesn't matter where you were born, where you lived, none of that matters."
"I love you, too, Luke Danes, and not just because you can dance, but oh my god can you ever dance!" she giggled, going in for a heated kiss before they went downstairs to work.
Luke put her to work pouring beverages and talking nice-nice to the customers, freeing him up to work in the kitchen. When the last customer had gone and the place was clean and ready for the next morning, he walked her home, where they spent some time necking on the front porch swing.
"Do you ever think about working on your relationship with your mother?" he asked, as they sat quietly, looking out at the deserted street.
"Sometimes I wish it were easier for Rory," she answered, "but no, not really. It was awful what they did to me as a kid, and got a million times worse when Rory was born. They had to control everything."
"Yeah, I know. It's not easy," he said, running his hand over her soft hair as he pulled her closer.
"Lorelai, I'm getting a little tired of being lied to." Emily's hurt showed on her face, even as Lorelai looked everywhere except at her mother. Admitting things was not part of the Gilmore culture.
"This man was at Rory's birthday party, he came to the hospital with you, he's the male lead in every story you tell, you go to the diner every single day. I've seen the way he looks at you, the way you look at him. I'm not a fool."
"Mom, please." Lorelai wished she could be transported back to yesterday. Even the Gilmore Tour would be better than this Friday Night Dinner.
"Why do you treat me like I don't have a clue in the world as to what is going on in your life? Now I'm asking you, as a favor, if you have any respect for me at all as your mother, just tell me. Do you have feelings for this man?"
"I don't know. Maybe I do. I haven't given it much thought. Maybe I do." Suddenly Lorelai slammed her hand down on the kitchen counter. "Mom, you're right. I lied to you just now, but I'm not going to do that anymore. I'm sick of it. The truth is, Luke and I are dating. I have more than 'feelings' for him, I love him. By the way, Mom, thanks for your suggestion. Dating Luke is a great idea."
Emily's face grew stony. "Thank you for finally admitting that you lied. I'm glad you were honest with me. Now we can discuss what on earth you could possibly be thinking! Don't forget the ice," she commanded as she stalked back to the living room.
Lorelai chased her mother down the hall. "I'll tell you what I was thinking! I was thinking that I'm ready for love, a family and happiness! I was thinking that of all the people I've ever met, all the men I ever dated, that no one can hold a candle to Luke for love, generosity and kindness! That he loves Rory more than he loves himself, and that ever since he's known her, he's been there for her!"
Lorelai's love rant carried them both back to the living room, where Richard and Rory sat, wide-eyed. Embarrassed, Lorelai looked at her father and said, "So, Dad, um, I'm kind of seeing someone."
"A scruffy diner owner," disparaged Emily.
"So I heard, Lorelai. The neighbors heard it too, I believe." To Rory, Richard asked, "You were aware of this? Are you OK with this 'Luke' person?"
Rory beamed, "Grandpa, Grandma, you will love Luke once you get to know him."
Her enthusiasm was not lost on Emily. "What do you mean, Rory? Do you know him? He's not just another of your mother's boyfriends?"
"Mom!" protested Lorelai, her face twisted in anger. "That's not fair!"
"Grandma, Mom doesn't have 'boyfriends!' We've known Luke for years, all my adult life, and we love him."
Emily and Richard exchanged a smile at 16 year old Rory's insistence that she'd known him all her 'adult' life.
"OK, truce," declared Emily. "If Rory speaks so highly of him, he must have some redeeming qualities. I'll reserve judgment until I get to know him."
"You could just accept him and not judge him at all, Mom. Rory and I love him; that should be enough for you."
Emily stared curiously at Lorelai for a moment, then sighed. "Lorelai, could you please come with me for a minute?"
Mouthing the words 'Help me!' at Rory, Lorelai followed her mother up the stairs into a spare bedroom.
Seeing Lorelai's set expression, Emily reassured her that this was not a continuation of the earlier discussion about Luke. "I'd like to ask you for a favor," she said, showing her a couple of archival quality cardboard boxes.
"While I was helping Rory with her family history project, I came across these old clothes. There are baby clothes from you, me, Hope and Richard. I was hoping you'd be willing to make a quilt out of them for Rory for a Christmas present. The quilt you had on your bed was so precious, I'd like Rory to have something of us." Suddenly uncertain, Emily half-feared an attack from Lorelai. Instead she looked in her daughter's eyes and saw a flash of hope.
"OK, Mom, I'll be glad to do it," she said softly. "Thanks for asking."
Lorelai lifted the lid off one of the boxes and looked at several pieces. "These are beautiful. Are you sure you want to let me cut them up?"
"Of course, Lorelai. They've just been sitting there in boxes, doing nothing for over 30 years. It's time they were put to good use, and I know Rory would appreciate them."
Emily reached across the bed and pulled out an additional package. "Here are some of Rory's things that you … left behind. I kept a couple of pieces for myself, but the rest are here."
"Do you want me to make something from them?" Lorelai asked.
"No, they're for you. I just thought you'd like them," Emily said, a guardedly hopeful expression on her face.
Moved, Lorelai pulled the photo of Hope, Emily and four year old Lorelai out of her shirt pocket. "Do you remember this?" she asked.
Emily smiled. "Hope's wedding. It was beautiful. We had so much fun. You were adorable, twirling in your pretty dress until I thought you were going to get sick."
"Luke says that's his favorite picture out of all the photos Rory showed us. We all look so happy." She looked at her mother, and then added, "I really do think you'll like him when you meet him."
"Let's see," Emily said primly. "Oh, I think that dress is still in the closet here." She searched for a moment, finally bringing out the dress and petticoats. "Here. Take this too."
Emily walked back into the living room after seeing the girls off. Richard looked up at her over his reading glasses and commented, "Another boyfriend."
"Yes," said Emily with frustration in her voice, "and he might even be worse than that teacher. At least the teacher had a profession."
"We may have to take a more active role this time. Both she and Rory seem to be very attached to him." Richard tossed this comment off with the same indifference that one would use when throwing out a newspaper.
"I was thinking about that, Richard. Lorelai seems to be serious about him, and Rory clearly loves him," she began, but couldn't find words to continue. She was torn. Some moments this evening had been quite civil, but one false move and Lorelai would disappear again, taking Rory with her. That would be unthinkable. Emily refused to consider the question which would be more unthinkable-Lorelai leaving with Rory again, or that diner man married into the family.
Richard closed his book and looked at her with slight exasperation. "You simply can't be serious, Emily."
She sighed, a frown on her forehead, and replied, "You're right of course, Richard. There's no doubt that something must be done." If only I could find a way to do it while keeping the connection Lorelai and I had tonight.
Lorelai dragged the boxes into the diner after Rory dropped her off. They teetered crazily in her arms, but she got them to a table before she dropped them. Luke, passing by with his arms full of plates, asked, "You got that?" as he kept moving to the customers over by the window.
"Feeling the love, babe!" she said as she plopped down at the table, which happened to be Kirk's. She glared at him, which sent Kirk running off to another table.
"What is all that?" Luke asked when he had a moment to come by her table.
"Some stuff my mother gave me. It's about a gift for Rory. Can I keep them in your apartment?"
"For Rory, sure." Scanning the diner, Luke added, "I'm going to be swamped here for a while longer. Do you want to take those upstairs and wait until I've got some time?" He pressed his apartment keys into her hand.
Lorelai carried the boxes upstairs, then ran back down for coffee and pie and the kiss she hadn't gotten yet. Comfortably ensconced on Luke's sofa, she flipped channels on the TV and looked through the various baby clothes her mother had given her, trying but still failing to remember these happy times the photographs showed.
After way too long a time for either of them to wait, Luke came upstairs, clearly exhausted, and flopped onto the sofa next to Lorelai.
"Do you still want to go out?" he asked.
"Not when you look like a dead man walking. I think you need your rest." She smoothed the hair on his head as if she were petting a puppy.
His relieved look reassured her that she'd made the right choice. He shoved some of the baby clothes off to the side and made himself more comfortable, closing his eyes. Suddenly his eyes flew open and his back stiffened.
"Baby clothes? Your mother gave you BABY clothes?" His dazed but worried look made her laugh. It never occurred to her that Luke might see the clothes and think pregnancy.
"Don't worry, sugar. This is not a subtle way to tell you I'm pregnant. She wants me to help her with a Christmas gift for Rory."
"Oh. Good." Tired, Luke was slow to process Lorelai's words.
"A Christmas gift?" he asked, when it finally sank in. "Do you know when Christmas is? It's months away. How insane is that, buying Christmas gifts in the springtime?"
"That's where you miss the true meaning of Christmas, Mr. Scrooge. This is a gift I will make, and if I'm going to keep it a surprise for Rory, I'm going to have to do it in secret."
"So you're going to spend months lying to Rory about what you're doing, so you can make a present for your mother to give to her?"
"Yep, that's the true meaning of Christmas, lies and slave labor. That's where you come in, my friend."
"To do what? The lying or the slave labor, as if I didn't know already." Resigned to the notion that he wouldn't escape this crazy idea unscathed, Luke closed his eyes, waiting for Lorelai to drop the next shoe.
"You don't have to do anything, except let me keep these boxes here. That way, Rory won't be tempted to peek."
"OK, I can do that." He sniffed his shirt. "God, I stink. You're not going to run off while I shower, are you?"
"No, you're stuck with me tonight, I already told Rory. You are about to experience the famous Lorelai TLC; Tender Loving Care from yours truly. Now go!"
While Luke showered, Lorelai puttered around doing little things to make his evening better and easier. Clean sweats and T-shirt, a freshly-made bed spritzed with just a touch of her perfume, beer, Luke snacks, all of these things greeted him when he returned.
"Slave labor," he said as he groaned under the deep shoulder massage she was giving him, "I could get used to having it." Having changed into one of Luke's flannels and very little else, she braced him between her naked legs as he sat on the floor, giving her access to his shoulders.
"You know," she flirted, "If you'd asked for one of these when you were over at the Crap Shack fixing things, we might have gotten together much sooner. I don't know how long I would have been able to resist muscles as beautiful as these."
"And if I'd known it would have worked, I'd have made all those repairs shirtless," he countered.
"No you wouldn't have," she said.
"Yeah, you're probably right." He sighed. "I would have dreamed, though. How was dinner?"
"Bad. Some good. Yelling, lecturing, all the usual things that make a Friday Night Dinner peculiarly Gilmore." She pondered a second. "Actually there was some good. You were a hot topic, but I think my mother heard me for once. They know we're dating."
"That's good, right?"
"For me it's good. I don't have to dread telling them. For Emily and Richard, who knows? We'll just have to see their reaction."
"For me it's good, too. No secrets from them. Everything out in the open."
"I showed my mother the photo with Hope. She still had the dress and gave it to me. Here." She took the dress and dropped it on top of Luke's head, petticoats and all.
"Smells like mothballs. Cute, though," Luke said as he tossed the dress onto the sofa.
"Want me to make one like it for you?" she teased.
"I'll pass, thanks. Are you coming to the softball game tomorrow?"
"No, I have to work the front desk until three. Rory's going to be there, she promised Dean. Shall I ask her to cheer for you too?"
"Nah, I'm good. You'll come by the diner after work?"
"I'll be there with bells on."
"Hmm, warning bells. That's an idea. That would be an even better signal that you're coming than the diner bells."
"By warning bells, you mean a welcome signal that the earthly delight that is Lorelai Gilmore is about to grace your presence, right?" She pressed teasingly a bit too deeply into his muscle.
Wincing a little, he dropped his head back on her lap, smiling. "Yeah. Sure. Right. What you said," he replied unconvincingly.
"Come on, it's time for bed. I think I left a little more TLC under the covers. Let's see if we can find it."