RNM 9 Time Management
"Oh my god, Rory, what's that?" exclaimed Louise.
"It's my cell phone," said a slightly embarrassed Rory.
"Love the bling." Louise bent her head near Rory's ear. "Tristan's girlfriend Summer just pitched a fit the other day because her parents refused to give her one of those. She is going to be jealous of more than just his crush on you."
"I don't want to hear it, Louise," replied Rory, rubbing her temples against an oncoming headache, wishing Tristan would suddenly be transported to the other side of the country. "It's just a phone, and Tristan is an idiot."
Louise shrugged her shoulders, touching up her lip gloss as Madeline came out of her classroom. "That's Summer's problem."
"What's Summer's problem, besides Rory taking Tristan away from her?" Madeline poked through Louise's makeup bag intent on finding a lip gloss for herself.
"I'm not …" began Rory, then decided to give up rather than start this endless loop. She needed to study for the quiz. This time she was really worried. Just as she started to get control over her studies, this past weekend blew a big hole in her study habits. Still, it was nice to see her dad, and meeting Francine was something special.
Rory loved her Gilmore grandparents, and Grandma Francine was really nice. She was looking forward to getting to know her better. The gifts she'd been given by the grandmothers recently were added bonuses.
She hurried down the hall to the lunchroom, planning to cram as much information into her head as she could. Just 25 minutes before the quiz. She grabbed the quietest seat she could find and stuck her nose in her book.
"Hey, Gilmore," said one student after another as she sat there, interrupting her studies repeatedly. If it wasn't the phone they wanted to see, it was someone who knew someone who knew her dad. After about ten minutes of this, she threw her books into her bag and retreated to the classroom, but it was still locked, so she ended up in the bathroom, where she finally had a few minutes to review her notes.
"When standards slip, families flee, and a seedy crowd comes in. You got trouble, my friends." Taylor Doose was at his peak annoyance level and Luke Danes' girlfriend was not being helpful.
"Right here in River City!" quipped Lorelai, unable to resist the joke.
"What are you doing?" Luke hissed in Lorelai's ear. "Can't you support me in this?"
Lorelai looked up at him apologetically. Standing up, she picked up her plate and cup, walking with Luke to the dirty dish drop window.
Lorelai spoke in a low, affectionate voice. "I do support you; it was just a joke, Luke."
"Well, it's not so funny to me," he groused. "Taylor is an ass."
"On that we agree completely." As they both faced the kitchen, she ran her fingers lightly up the inside of his forearm. When she noticed the goose bumps appearing, she gently caressed them away, warming them with the palm of her hand. "But seriously Luke, a place like this ought to be painted every ten years or so. Don't you remember when we talked about it? We even chose the colors already."
Honestly, so much had happened between the evening they chose paint samples and today that Luke had completely forgotten about the spruce. His thoughts began whirling in his head and Lorelai's touch rendered him temporarily speechless. He growled and muttered something like "Thnglnts," which may have meant 'thinking is not my strong suit,' or possibly, 'brilliant idea, Lorelai, love of my life.' She went with the second possibility.
"Good, let's get rid of Taylor and handle this ourselves." She turned to Taylor and said briskly, "Taylor, I've got this. You go on and deal with more important matters of town business."
Remembering the need to rebuke Mrs. Lanahan for allowing her grass to grow to the untenable height of 2.6 inches, Taylor gratefully accepted her offer and departed after paying for his lunch with an unusually generous 4 percent tip. "Yep," he thought, "Luke Danes' girlfriend could be very helpful indeed."
After an intense personal discussion between Lorelai and Luke, which involved her auditioning her latest painting song for him, pulling him into the storeroom to tickle him behind his metaphorical ears, and promising to basically do the painting for him, Luke reluctantly agreed to paint within the next week or two.
Rory loped dejectedly through the front gate of Chilton's campus. Her last-minute study had failed miserably and she had earned a B- on the quiz. It was made all the worse by the fact that they graded each other's papers in class, and Tristan had her paper.
"Tristan, shut up," said Paris, who was still Rory's friend following the Bangles concert. "You grade the paper, hand it back and keep your trap closed."
She edged closer to Rory. "Rory, what happened? I know you took notes on this stuff. You take notes almost as well as I do," she said, with as friendly a voice as Paris could muster, although it still sounded a lot like criticism.
Rory shrugged her shoulders, glared at a smirking Tristan, and headed off the school grounds in search of freedom. Blinking at the sunshine and breathing the fresh air outside the gates, Rory was startled to hear her dad's voice.
"Hi kiddo, wanna get a cup of coffee?" His winning smile was accompanied by an affectionate hug. His polished good looks garnered the attention of several of Rory's classmates. Madeline gave Rory a subtle thumbs-up as she passed.
"That would be great, Dad, but I have to catch the bus."
"No problem, I have Grandma Francine's car today. I can drive you home."
Over coffee and a monstrous ice cream sundae, Rory eagerly absorbed Christopher's perspective on schools, teachers, and how to get through high school without losing too much of your cool factor.
"I am the farthest thing from cool, Dad. All I can think about is studying and getting into Harvard. It's really important."
"Hey, you're a Gilmore and a Hayden. We have ways of dealing with those things. You know I went to Princeton, and trust me, my prep school grades weren't so hot."
"Really? That would be a big relief. How does it work?"
"First, you do have to have some half-way decent grades, so don't slack off too much. Let's see, you are a legacy based on our university past. Your grandmothers graduated from Albert Magnus in New Haven, Straub from Princeton, and Richard from Yale. No Harvard graduates there. How committed are you to that school?"
"Mom's never talked about any other university. I didn't know about legacies."
"It takes some money, but your grandparents have donated to Yale, and I know Straub donated to Princeton, otherwise I wouldn't have gotten in. Christopher conveniently left out the fact that he dropped out of Princeton after one semester, choosing to 'find himself' instead.
"I need to get going, Dad, got a lot of studying tonight," said Rory. She wondered why her mom had never explained these things to her about college. She made a mental note to talk to her grandparents before she applied to any schools.
Every night except Wednesdays and Fridays, Rory went to Luke's after school. She would have gone on the other days as well, but Paris' intense newspaper meetings on Wednesdays and Emily's beyond intense Friday Night Dinners prevented it. As Christopher drove into Stars Hollow, Rory began to worry that it might be a bad idea to be dropped off at Luke's, in case the two men confronted each other, or at the Crap Shack, in case her mother was at home. She settled for a drop off at Lane's.
There weren't any thumbs up from her classmates on Tuesday when Rory exited the Chilton gates after another tortuous day of feeling that she was never going to catch up on her studies. The night before, she filled Lane in on the influx of generous relatives and skillfully avoided Mrs. Kim's new recipe for wheat balls, this time with a "creamy-crunchy center made from tofu and unsalted toasted soybeans," as Mrs. Kim said proudly. After a quick burger at Luke's with her mom, Rory barricaded herself in her room to study. Her To-Do list was too long, so she ultimately cut it into thin strips, one task per strip, and pulled ten strips at random, and that was all she got done in the way of homework.
Emily and Francine were the ones ambushing Rory as she left Chilton on Tuesday, a fact that gathered no attention at all from her classmates, since grandmothers in DAR-traditional Chanel suits were a dime a dozen at Chilton. A dad like Christopher, however, both young and handsome, was always a point of envy.
Independent Rory never paid attention to the popularity of family, except when it came to her mother. Lorelai continued to draw male admirers at every Chilton event she attended, from young, handsome teachers like Max, to creepy older teachers and fathers with questionable marital statuses looking for an easy hookup.
Rory wondered what powers there were that prevented her from having any of the grace that Emily showed now as she practically danced in place, waiting for Rory to come near.
"Rory!" she called as soon as she saw her granddaughter. "We are here to take you to tea." She looked proudly at her dear friend. "Francine and I want to take you to tea," a statement that started Francine's perfectly-coiffed head bobbing enthusiastically up and down.
Tea for Rory's grandmothers was a massive undertaking, including a quick primp for Rory in the powder room at the Hartford Plaza Royale hotel. Emily's exacting standards for primping were not lessened just because it was in a public place, and Rory exited with freshly styled hair, a spritz of a grandmotherly perfume, and cheeks made pink a la Scarlett O'Hara.
"Doesn't she just look like a china doll? Such perfect skin!" praised Ingrid, the only server who met the maître d's standards for waiting on Emily Gilmore.
Rory's brain ping-ponged between her study To-Do list and the proper way to hold the teacup, balance the napkin on her knee, yet still get food into her mouth. Watching her mother talk with her mouth full of food was somehow preferable to this ceremony that seemed to be designed to prevent eating altogether in favor of creating living Jane Austen images.
"Nonsense, Rory, of course you can spend a few minutes with your grandmothers," placated Francine. "Both Emily and I will see to it that your grades don't suffer."
"We need to run into this tiny little boutique before we take you home," added Emily. "They have scarves that perfectly match your uniform."
That evening at home, Rory managed to hide three scarves, one silver necklace and a pair of bracelets as well as one vintage gold filigree lipstick case in the bottom of her underwear drawer before gratefully collapsing next to her mother on the sofa.
"Hard day?" asked Lorelai as she flipped channels, looking for the reruns of Northern Exposure.
"Unbelievable," said Rory, slumping deep into the sofa. "My To-Do list never ends."
"Oh, my sweet freakishly intelligent spawn," she mumbled through the mouthful of pizza, "You've got this covered. You always do." She handed her the bag of Famous Amos cookies before squealing, "Oh! There he is! Ed! My favorite! I always had a crush on him. He is sooo cool."
"Hey good-looking, what's cookin'?" smirked Lorelai as she crossed the street and hurried to catch up with Luke.
"Tofu hot dogs, herbal tea and beet salad," he countered. "That's what I'm making for our dinner tomorrow night."
"Mind if I make a couple of minor changes to that menu?" Lorelai asked.
"I might be willing to use Tofurkey instead of the hot dogs, if you ask nicely."
"I was thinking more along the line of your Cajun shrimp and dirty rice dish. Please please please?"
"We'll see." His heart warmed when Lorelai or Rory requested one of his specialities, recalling his enthusiasm when his mother allowed him to choose what they ate for dinner.
"Hi Luke," she greeted him again, taking possession of his hand as they walked together. He simply grinned and adjusted his long stride to match her fast-moving pace.
She delighted in the next half-block, waving at people she knew, showing off her boyfriend to all and sundry. Miss Patty waved at her from across the block and Lorelai lifted their joined hands to wave back.
"What are you doing?" he asked, suddenly stopping. Lorelai, who'd kept going and had kept a firm grip on his hand, circled around until she faced him, an impish grin on her face.
"Hi," she said for the third time.
"You're nuts," he replied, presenting his second smile of the afternoon. "Have you got some time?"
"Your place or mine?" Her fingers walked their way up the front of his flannel, actually getting one unbuttoned before his hand closed over hers and his reproving frown told her to stop.
Luke sighed, his stock of reserved just for Gilmores running dangerously thin. "I didn't mean that."
"The gazebo? Why Luke, I thought you'd hold out for a few more months," giggled Lorelai. "So my plan is to sneak into Taylor's after midnight to turn off the twinkle lights, then …"
"Shopping!" he interrupted her sex fantasy and replaced it with her shopping fantasy.
Lorelai dropped Luke's hand to fan herself. "You want to go shopping? Oh, this is big. Bigger than making out in the gazebo. I may have to swoon!"
"All I meant was, let's go to the hardware store and buy the paint for the diner." He tucked his hands safely under his arms, fighting an internal battle between a major eye roll and trying to figure out what they would need to execute the gazebo plan. Shaking his head until he came to his senses, he opted for the eye roll.
The drive to the hardware store near Hartford wasn't nearly long enough for Luke to finish his rant on giant chain stores which had choked the life out of small hardware stores like his father's.
"It's all about turnover. If you need something that's a little special, if it's customized, they can't help you. If they can't sell a thousand of the thing a week, they just won't stock it. Have you ever tried to get a three inch screw? Impossible! Most screws sold are either two inch or four inch. Don't they understand that a two inch screw won't hold, and a four inch screw doesn't fit?"
"The employees, if you can even call them that, are nothing more than poorly-trained monkeys whose job it is to slide boxes across the scanner. Heaven forbid that something go wrong with that. If they have a power outage, do you think they can write down what was purchased and accept cash? No! They sit there staring at their scanners, waiting for the light to reappear, after which they start mindlessly sliding boxes again, praying for the end of the work day."
"It was different in my dad's hardware store. It was like a treasure hunt every time I went in. He was always pulling something out of a box or a drawer that I had never seen before. He'd flip it in his hand as he explained to the customer, who he knew by name, by the way, just how to use it to solve whatever problem there was."
"I know, hon, it's just not the same," consoled Lorelai as they walked through the sliding glass doors into the cavernous warehouse. She stopped and stared at the tall shelves. "Oh my god. How are we ever going to find paint in this place?"
"Let's ask Chip," Luke said sarcastically, as the pimply-faced infant wearing a striped vest which reminded him nauseatingly of Taylor's barber shop quartet costume blocked their way into the shopping area.
"Can I help you find something, sir?" Chip said obsequiously.
Luke arched an eyebrow, gave Lorelai a fleeting wink and said, "I need some self-tapping machine screws and a pound of sixteen penny nails."
"Well, sir, I don't know the prices of the nails, but nails and screws are Aisle 15," Chip offered after uselessly referring to his corporate-provided cheat sheet, since they were standing in front of the appropriately-labeled Aisle 15.
"Got it, Chip, thanks," sneered Luke as he pointed Lorelai in the direction of the paint.
"I didn't know that hardware lingo was so dirty!" she giggled. "Self-tapping. Hee hee!"
She stopped in front of the first of many paint chip racks.
Luke pulled her along. "We've got the paint chips already."
"But we need to look for the cabin," she pleaded as her eyes danced past rack after rack of temptation. "And the Crap Shack! The Crap Shack needs to be painted. There's your apartment as well!"
"We're not touching the apartment," he growled as he turned back to speak with the girl running the paint mixing machines. He squinted as he did a double-take on her name tag. Sighing, he said, "Um, Tulip, I need to have some paint mixed. Can you help?"
"Luke! They have curtains! And waste baskets shaped like flower bouquets!" Without actually looking at him, Lorelai waved him to follow her, stopping to clap her hands excitedly as she added, "I'll get one of these giant rolling cart thingies! We have got so much to buy! Huh? I wonder how these things work?" There was a loud clatter, followed by an "Oops!" in Lorelai's voice.
Luke turned and ran after her, starting to believe the gazebo might have been the better option.
Sleep was starting to get the better of Rory as she sat in the newspaper meeting listening to Paris' latest set of demands for which there was no hope of appeasement. Fortunately, Tristan's snide remark about graffiti on Paris' photo hanging outside the newspaper office sent her running outside to assess the damage and plan for her next Anschluss, this time a takeover of the yearbook offices, which had its own sofa.
First target eliminated, Tristan turned to Rory. "So, Mary, I see you're getting into the Chilton swing of things," he said with a direct and impertinent look.
"What are you talking about, you idiot?" she growled.
"On Monday I saw you at the fancy coffee shop with who, your dad? On Tuesday, Summer saw you at the tea room with what must have been your grandmother."
"Grandmothers. They were both there." Rory was so tired she no longer cared what he was babbling about.
"Where was your mom?" continued Tristan. "Didn't someone say your mom was practically still attached to you by your umbilical cord?"
Louise perked up. "Rory's got a hot dad," a sentiment which earned a nod from Madeline. "Very cute."
"Who's cute?" demanded Paris as she returned, having achieved tears all around in the yearbook room.
"Rory's dad," shrugged Madeline. "He took her out for coffee on Monday."
"Your dad's in town?" she asked Rory. "Wow. What does your mom think of that?"
"She's not thrilled. He's pretty unreliable." She put a small smile on her weary face. "It is fun to have him around, though."
Busying herself gathering her papers, Rory added, "Mom's not too thrilled. She's mad at him and my grandmothers as well."
"What's happening?" Paris had zeroed in on Rory's pretense at speaking casually.
Rory focused her blue eyes on Paris, hoping she would fall for the Rory Eyes. It was in vain. Paris was not taken in by the Rory Eyes, making her perhaps the most honest friend Rory had ever had.
"Mom's seeing Luke now, really serious-like. Now Dad's here too, and I just met my Grandma Francine, and everyone's fighting over me."
"Your mom's serious about the guy? Wait until they have a baby. You haven't seen fighting until one half of your parents has a new kid."
As Madeline, Louise and Tristan one-upped each other with stories of manipulating stepparents, Rory's eyes grew big and Paris could see real sadness in them. Rory's thought patterns jumped ahead to the time that she wouldn't be the center of everyone's existence, but the baby would take over that spot. Her spot in her mother's heart. She hefted her backpack over her shoulder, mumbled words about the bus she needed to catch and walked out the door.
"No, Gilmore, that's not the way it's going down," said Paris, who followed her outside.
"There's nothing going down," she muttered. "Leave me alone."
"If anything happens, Gilmore, come to me. I know all the angles. Parents, stepparents, grandparents, I'll help you get through it." Her piercing gaze cut through Rory's fog of sadness. "But no moping, and no delays on that article. Friday on my desk at the latest."
After arriving in Stars Hollow, Rory trudged toward the diner as her mother and Luke finished emptying the truck. Before Luke could lift the tailgate, Lorelai jumped up on it and pulled him to her for a kiss, which was willingly given before she was bodily removed and dropped unceremoniously onto the sidewalk, both of them laughing, uncaring if anyone was watching them.
Rory turned away from the diner and toward home, feeling sadder than ever.
Luke tapped on Rory's bedroom door. "Dinner's ready, kid. Your mom's on her way downstairs now."
Rory lifted her head from the desk, where she'd been dozing for about ten minutes. "OK," she said sleepily, "I'm coming." She stretched, looked at her study list, frowned, then slammed the book closed and went to the table.
Lorelai bounced downstairs, refreshed after a shower and wearing jeans and a shirt which proclaimed 'Save a cow, eat a vegetarian.' She leaned in front of him as he took the food off the stove, trying to draw his attention to the shirt, but he wisely avoided comment.
Looking around the table, Rory felt like they were having a TV family dinner. Sadly, it felt more like The Simpsons and less like Donna Reed than Luke might have wished. She looked at her mother and Luke, talking as if her whole life weren't in turmoil.
"I missed you at the diner this week, Rory," said Luke, as he indulgently watched Lorelai stealing her favorite bits off his plate. He was secretly delighted with his life now; it was moments like this that made up the fabric of a family.
"Was something going on at school?" asked Lorelai, wondering why she hadn't heard of this yet. "Is Paris giving you trouble? I though you two were finally getting along."
"It's nothing," Rory replied, "I was just in Hartford every afternoon this week."
"What are they thinking at Chilton? They can't give you hours of homework a week, but then force you to stay every afternoon doing extra-curricular activities. Are you sure it's not Paris, because I can talk to the teacher if you want her to back off."
Rory's fork clattered to the plate as she exclaimed, "It's not Paris! I've got this under control! There's nothing going on!"
"If nothing's going on, then what exactly do you have under control?" asked Lorelai.
"School! You! Dad! Grandma! Princeton! Harvard! I've got it all under control!" She stormed back into her room, leaving the other two sitting and staring after her.
"Do you know what's going on?" Lorelai asked Luke. "Has she said anything to you?"
"No, like I said, she hasn't been in the diner in the afternoon all week." Memories of Liz having meltdowns at the table reminded Luke that the 'fabric of family life' also got the occasional tear and needed to be repaired.
Lorelai started for Rory's door, then stopped and turned around. Luke watched her silently but sympathetically.
"Dishes. We need to do the dishes," she decided.
Speaking in soft tones, and only about the dishwashing, they spent the next half hour cleaning up the kitchen, giving Lorelai something to do with her hands while she processed her daughter's words.
"You're about to scrub Farrah's face off," he said gently as he took the plate from her furiously moving hands. "Let's put her back in the cabinet."
Lorelai drew her fingers through the soapy water before she spoke. She turned to him, hands dripping and he wrapped the dishtowel around her fingers, capturing the dripping water and drying her hands.
"I think I need to talk to Rory alone tonight," she said regretfully. "Do you mind?"
His heart ached as he wished that there were no choice, that he lived here and couldn't leave. He wanted to help more, to be there for both of them, to be Lorelai's partner in this and not just her support. He looked at the floor as he disciplined himself to accept the way things were today.
"Yeah," he said gruffly, his voice so low that Lorelai almost thought she imagined his reply.
"Luke."
"Anything. If you can think of anything, call me. Anytime. Promise?" He pulled her hands to his chest.
"Thanks, Luke, yes, I promise." Her eyes brightened as she added, "It's just a tantrum, you know? She doesn't have them often, but she does have them. Teenagers, you know." She pressed her hands against his chest to comfort them both.
"I'll say goodnight, then I'll go. We'll see each other tomorrow, right? Call me if you want to talk tonight, OK?"
Luke waved a hand to indicate that he would say goodbye to Rory. Tapping on her door, she opened it and let him in long enough to give her a pat on the shoulder and remind her that she could talk to him anytime as well.
To the background sounds of a Friends marathon, Rory confessed her worries to her mother. The workload, her slipping grades, her concerns about getting into university, were all absorbed carefully by Lorelai.
She burned with anger when Rory told about the visits on Monday and Tuesday afternoon. "They can't just take all your time like that! You need your study time!"
"They just wanted to spend time with me, Mom, and you know that Dad never stays around long. I needed to do it."
"Hon, you can't drop everything because your dad comes into town once a year. He needs to fit into your schedule. How else will you get into Harvard?"
"What about legacy? I wouldn't mind going to Princeton or Yale, if being a legacy can help me get in."
"Who told you about that?" asked Lorelai, remembering that the biggest attraction to Harvard was that no one in her family had gone there.
"Dad told me that was how he got into Princeton."
"Did he also tell you that he dropped out after one semester? Being a legacy does not mean you're a success."
Lorelai pulled Rory into her arms as they paused, uttering a simultaneous 'Ewww!' at Monika with a turkey on her head. Rory looked down at her lap and fingered her sweat pants.
"Mom, you know I'm really happy about you and Luke, right?"
"Yeah, so?"
"I know I'm just being childish, but I'm a little jealous. I haven't seen Dean all week because I've been too busy."
"It's not easy to balance everything you have to do, I know. That's why I didn't date much when you were younger. If you want more time with Dean, though, that time needs to come from anywhere except your school work."
"I know. I guess I'm going to have to cut back on other things a bit. Maybe I can find time for Dean on the weekend." She continued plucking at her sweat pants.
"What else, kitten?"
"You're going to think I'm a baby."
"So what? I behave like I'm 16 most of the time. I'll give you a free pass this one time."
"If you and Luke get married and have kids, …"
"Then those kids are going to need you to show them what it's like to be in this family," stated Lorelai unequivocally. "I mean, think about it. If we do get married and have a kid, and she turns out to be just as wonderful as you, then you'll have a mini-me to have fun with."
She giggled as she continued, "But if the baby turns out to be a little grumpy Luke-like creature, then I'm going to need all the help from you I can get. You know how much work Luke is. I could never manage both a big grumpy Luke and a little grumpy, pooping, peeing, crying Lukelet without you by my side."
"What if the baby turns out to talk as much as you do, but is always grumpy like Luke?" Rory giggled at that thought.
"Whoa. That's a scary thought."
The girls pondered that for a moment. Lorelai hugged her tightly and giggled.
"That's when we call in Emily. Sometimes grandparents should get the grandchildren they deserve."
A/N: A modest homage to DSLeo with the "Thnglnts" unintelligible conversation.
Also a big thank you to the same DSLeo for inspiration and ideas for this chapter.