Chapter 6

It was still early, very early, and Logan was likely the first one who was up. He laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Logan had noticed Rory when he'd returned from his sudden urge to swim the day before, and he kept thinking back to what she might've thought of the whole situation as he laid in bed the next morning. He was a little annoyed with himself for having reacted as strongly as he had, though he knew it was already an improvement of how he might've reacted in the past.

Had Rory heard his phone call? If she had, she probably thought he had a stalker or something. It wasn't quite so dramatic, but there was a past that he was looking to escape. He pondered how he would ever explain that to Rory or some future romantic interest if he didn't want to scare them off. It was not an easy discussion to be had.

He was going to have to change his number, though. And that was going to be a whole big process considering a virtual assistant somewhere needed to start screening all of his calls if he ever wanted to work, or rather – employ himself.

Logan sighed, audibly.

He couldn't really imagine starting a whole new career here in the states. He'd gotten used to how things worked in the UK and starting anything here just seemed messy, dirty even. Was he too young to retire? He could, he knew that. But would that somehow make him less of a man? Would he be able to live with himself like that, playing golf or chasing down vintage automobiles, not really contributing with anything more significant than raising his kids, more than half of them who seemed to be already raised? Or maybe that was the ultimate job he'd always valued too little until now?

He'd gotten a pretty good first impression of the woman living next door in his opinion. She was wealthy, but didn't really like to show it or talk about the fact. It was almost like she tried to hide it, be humble about it at the very least, or make it a point to highlight how she was somehow more genuine than the likes of him. But all in all, he considered it just a character trait, a quirky feature, not a pretentious trait as he knew well how a lot of negative assumptions applied to the likes of him.

He wondered what the story was there and how she'd developed into the person that she was. Naturally, he still lacked many bits of that story, but considering time was something he had plenty on his hands these days, he was curious as to how to explore her without alarming her. He wasn't in a hurry to dive head first into a serious relationship, nor was he after meaningless sex. But was there a balance between those two? One that couldn't be seen as taking advantage or assuming that was what she was after. Hell - for all he knew she could've just been gay. Maybe the reason there was no husband was because there was instead a wife, or maybe she was not interested period. He'd seen plenty of those women in his life too, who just gave up on love after the dial turned 40. It was a waste really - it was not like he was after having more children at his age. But it wasn't up to him.

But no, he hadn't gotten any such vibes from her either.

What he could do rather inconspicuously was the less honorable thing. His hand stretched out towards his nightstand and his tablet became alive at the sight of his facial features. He typed in 'Lorelai Gilmore', being a little unsure whether a name 'she went by' would actually suffice in search engines. Or maybe it was 'Loralai'? Had she also gone by another last name in the meanwhile? – he pondered.

He got the opposite of a few results. There was a massive amount of coverage. The trouble was - the dates didn't seem to match or, at least, made it seem like she would've had to have lived two or more separate lives. One who was an owner of a successful hotel chain, having worked her way up. A sort of riches-to-rags and back to riches kind of story, that even many well-known magazines had presented to their readers as her big success story. And then there were archive materials, some even reaching back to the UK to his surprise. As he observed the dates and the impossibly complex trajectories, it became clear to him that there were in fact at least three women by that name who'd lived, finding photos as proof. No wonder she preferred to go by a nickname.

He tried to limit his searches to "Rory Gilmore", but as he'd expected, there was a considerable timeline gap there. He assumed she'd been married and changed her name, even if changing names wasn't as assumed these days. He thought about what that ex of hers must've been like.

"Yale Daily News?" Logan reflected to himself in a mumble, having not expected to see her name in relation to that paper. She was an English major - so maybe he should've. He'd been on Yale Daily News too, even if he'd done everything in his power to show his face in the newsroom as little as possible. And if journalism had been one of her interests back in the day - how the hell had she not reacted at the name 'Huntzberger'? Maybe she just didn't connect it to my father? - Logan thought.

He let his eyes scan through a few of her pieces. Some were a little trivial if he were to be honest. Something about illegal music downloading, some university politics coverages that were a bit better. She could write, there was definitely improvement to be seen as months and years had ticked by.

He then landed on an online magazine showing a whole series of her writing, covering the Obama campaign. Logan knew what that meant in the newspaper business - she'd been on the campaign trail, and based on the type of magazine she'd worked for, mostly crappy hotels and busses. Definitely a career path for someone just starting out and wanting to become a journalist. But it also told him that she'd wanted to make it on her own rather than use her family's connections. The Gilmores, as far as he remembered, had plenty of those, including the connection to his father. He even believed he'd been to Emily and Richard Gilmore's Christmas party once when he was just a boy but he had no memory beyond them serving excellent salmon puffs.

Logan put down his tablet, already feeling like invading her life a little too much. She hadn't offered this information to him. But he did realize that if he wanted to interact with her. Even if all that it became was an acquaintance, he now had the input to do it.

He went on with his day, showering and then going to make breakfast, but little by little he began to wonder how he hadn't run into this woman before now.

He looked forward to the moments when the kids and Honor were away exploring the area, shopping, and dining out, opting to stay behind himself. But really, he was just looking for the right moment to approach Rory again. He'd been to the dock to put away a couple of life vests his sons had used the other day when kayaking and he'd already noted her sitting at her favorite spot again.

Walking back to the house, his mind was full of strategies. Was he just supposed to think of something silly like needing a number for the plumber? Wi-Fi that wasn't working? Pretend to have cooked too much food to invite her over to eat it? Call her over to have a talk about the kids and pretend it to be something he was worried about? What was going on - he'd never been like this, not since the seventh grade at the very least. Logan shrugged off the moment of fretting - this wasn't him. He wasn't 15 or even 25 - he was approaching 50 for God's sake.

He was very close to simply walking into his kitchen and bringing over that spare apple pie Honor bought the day before, just to rip the band aid off, but he didn't get that far, suddenly hearing some very erratic screams from next door.

Rory came running out of the porch door, having been inside briefly to get herself a snack. But she hadn't gotten very far and found herself shaking herself all over. He couldn't see her from where he was standing, but he could hear the stomping and instinctive reaction of shivers and disgust to shed oneself of an unwanted creature. It seemed the moment presented Logan with the opportunity - maybe this was the universe telling him something.

"You alright over there?" Logan asked loudly over the fence.

"Just a spider. A BIG spider," Rory said, her voice trembling a little, shaking her body all over still not getting the feeling out of her system.

"Need me to come over and kick some spider butt?" Logan said, teasingly.

"Would you? Please," Rory said, having been caught at a vulnerable moment. She was not very proud of that, but it beat going back in there herself.

Logan hastened his step and made it to her back yard and up her porch stairs.

"Where is this monster?" Logan teased, friendlily.

"I've actually gotten a lot better at not just fearing any spider," Rory felt the need to explain, whilst gesturing him towards the kitchen. "But this guy… wow, I accidentally touched him… or her… I don't know. How do you tell the sex of a spider?" Rory blabbered in a cute manner.

Logan noticed the object that stood most out of place in the room. A large pasta pot was placed on the floor upside down and a dove-shaped paperweight was placed on top of it.

"Are we talking of a giant pet tarantula here or…?" Logan asked, the measures looking like overkill.

"I think it was one of those wolf spiders… it actually hissed," Rory described, following behind him but keeping her distance. She didn't like acting like the damsel in distress, it had been just such a thing her mom always fell back on, but under these circumstances she just didn't care. This was one of the few downsides of summers in Maine for her.

Logan looked around, searching for a paper or a piece of cardboard. Eventually, he found a magazine. It was an issue of the Conde Nast Traveler, an old one.

"Take him outside, if you can. Scoop him up gently, I don't want you to break any of his legs. Spiders are all about their legs," Rory expressed her sensitive side.

Logan held back his laughter, contemplating how the shift between her fear and compassion for the fellow had occurred.

Logan carefully approached the pot and tried to slip the magazine underneath. It was a little thicker than would've been ideal, hence he caught a sight of the spider's legs while he did.

"Yeah, he's a big boy," Logan commented, feeling a little intimidated himself.

"Don't hurt him!" Rory yelped.

"Ah, here we go," Logan said, holding the magazine firmly against the pasta pot. "You mind opening the door for me?" he asked, moving instinctively through the house towards the front door. The back door would've been closer, but he genuinely didn't want Rory to relive this moment by putting him anywhere close, not that he hadn't enjoyed this cute little chivalrous moment he'd been presented with.

Logan took the spider about a 100 ft down the road, before placing it down. It took him a moment to get the spider out of the pot, having already considered leaving it there until he left voluntarily.

"Oh, thank you," Rory chimed with gratitude as he returned, really not wanting that pot back inside her house.

"Happy to help," Logan said.

"Can I offer you a cup of coffee as a token of my gratitude?" Rory said, smilingly.

"I was just about to make one myself, so sure…," Logan said, feeling relieved to have another excuse to step back into that house. He'd gotten a brief look before but hadn't really had time to observe as closely as he would've liked, finding Rory fascinating.

The house was older and less grand, but not in bad shape. It was smaller than the neighboring house too. The place looked tasteful, but very much the opposite of what Honor's interior decorator had made their place look like. There was a little too much clutter to his liking, or at least compared to what he was used to. But this clutter in itself seemed captivating to him – books and art but also quirky novelties like a cow-shaped clock or Homer-Simpson-shaped beer opener. All in all, it looked like a home, not a house simply cut out of a page in a magazine.

"How do you like your coffee?" Rory asked, putting the water on. Rory liked her house here low tech, minus her laptop and her television, naturally, and all she had was a French press and an Italian style stovetop espresso maker.

"I'm not particular," Logan replied.

"Alright, my way it is," Rory said, and got to work filling the kettle with water. "You're free to look around or sit or whatever while you wait," she added.

Logan allowed himself a moment to glance around. The house had retained a lot of its vintage features - a stone wood-burning fireplace, beamed ceilings and polished wood floors that were making quite a bit of noise as one walked. The furniture was mostly vintage, mixing a little different tones and materials. There was some art on the walls, but they weren't particularly personal as far as he could tell. Photos were scarce, at least on the first floor, but he didn't consider it very unusual as their place was pretty impersonal as well if one didn't count the kids' toys.

"I like this place. It's cozy," Logan commented, having peeked around the first floor a little, before stepping into the narrow galley-style kitchen.

"You don't need to pretend to like it. I know it doesn't really compare," Rory replied, wanting to establish an honest line of communication. Since she'd gotten older, she was a lot more reluctant for small talk and formalities, loving it when a person enabled her to just get straight to the point and cut through the surface.

"It doesn't have to compare. It's just organic and homey, nothing wrong with that," he added. This time Rory actually began to believe it.

"It kind of reminds me of the place where I grew up. I mean our first real house, that is," Rory shared, sensing now how keeping up part of the guessing game between them, created a very special kind of tension. It felt almost like there was a buzz in the air.

"Did you live around here somewhere at the time?" Logan asked.

"We were in a small town near Hartford - you've probably never heard of it. Stars Hollow? It's tiny, quirky, some might say crazy… but it was home at the time," Rory explained.

"Sounds interesting. What's the criteria for a town being 'crazy' exactly?" Logan inquired, finding her somewhat dreamy storytelling in that very special tone of hers quite captivating.

"Um… I don't even know where to start," Rory said, smiling at him briefly, loving that he had asked. "There's 'Al's Pancake World' that pretty much serves anything but pancakes," Rory began, going on to tell Logan about all the reenactments, holiday festivities and town meetings.

Logan chuckled. "Must look it up sometimes," he said. "You seem to love it. So why not live there anymore?" he inquired.

"Ah, you know… it kind of began to feel a little suffocating after some time. Like it was always me and my mom in that town and it just started to feel like it was closing in on me after she passed," Rory shared.

"I'm sorry," Logan reflected.

"It's fine. It's been a while. And all things considered she went quickly, whilst doing what she loved so while naturally it's sad, it was just her time, you know?" Rory said, having made her mends with the fact. Sure, one would have argued that her mother was far too young to die, but if an aneurysm hits her as she's enjoying a cup of coffee on the porch of the Dragonfly before the morning rush, she'd accept that there were a lot worse ways to go.

Logan just observed her, for a second having felt like he'd been privy to something pretty personal.

"I'm sorry. I didn't just mean to unload on you like that," Rory said, pressing down on the French press.

"It's fine. It's just rare for someone to be so open," Logan commented.

"I decided a while back that I was sick of holding back. If people don't like me for my thoughts, then they don't have to like me. I'm not a perfect person, and that's fine," Rory said, pouring the coffee into two large cups.

"Truthfully I find it refreshing," Logan said, accepting the cup from her hands, nearly touching her as he did, while maintaining eye contact.

They remained there for a second, both leaning their hips against the counter, holding a steaming hot cup of coffee in their hands, eyes meeting - lingering.

Logan took a sip, and as did she, they both continued to look at the other.

"I have a confession to make," Logan said, deciding to meet her half way on this whole honesty thing. He didn't want to play complicated games either.

"Uh?" Rory asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

"I googled you," Logan said.

"Uh-huh," Rory nodded. "And what did you find out?" she said, feeling intrigued, raising the corner of her mouth, eager to hear what he had to say.

It was odd - somehow despite knowing him so little, she seemed to trust him unproportionally much.