Rory smoothed her hand over the worn copy of Moby Dick balanced on her lap. Perched on the flowery cushion-topped window seat in her room, and surrounded by her most prized possessions, she read quietly, immersing herself in her own little world. The Pequod had just left the harbor. Ishmael was discussing the natural history of the whale, and describing a colorful cast of crew-mates.
Completely enraptured, only the shriek of her mother's laughter tore her attention away from the pages. Through the frosted plate glass window, she turned her head just in time to spot her mother throw her arms around Luke's neck and burrow her face against his chest. The ladder he had brought over to hang up their Christmas lights sat abandoned in the yard.
The phone rang, and Rory set her book aside. She trotted over to the hall table and answered on the fourth ring, "Hello?"
"Rory, dear. Hasn't your mother taught you proper telephone etiquette?"
Her grandmother's sharp tongue had Rory instantly straightening her posture, even though she couldn't see her through the line. Her eyes widened and she fussed with the coiled phone cord, "I, um–"
"I'm terribly sorry to have missed our phone call last week. Your grandfather was called away to France for business and at the very last moment I tagged along. Paris is simply wonderful this time of year."
Rory dragged the phone cord into the living room and kept an eye on the scene that played out through the window with a small smile on her lips. Her mother had gathered a dusting of snow off the ground in two mittened hands, tossing it at Luke's back, it sprinkled across his jacket like a Jackson Pollack painting. She couldn't remember if she'd ever seen her mother so comfortable with another grown up. Maybe comfortable wasn't the word–she searched her vocabulary-logged brain for a word more fitting. She had never seen her mother so…full, so complete and at ease.
With the phone still pressed to her ear, she faintly registered her grandmother's voice discussing the museum exhibits and cultural landmarks she had visited.
"How is school? Has your Christmas break begun?"
"School is great! We have one more week and then we're on break until after New Years. Oh! I just finished at the top of my class in our spelling bee too. Luke helped me study after school, we made up games and everything. I was soo nervous but he helped me learn all these tricks to stay calm under pressure. Do you know about breathing techniques? They really work! After I won, he made Mom and I a giant ice cream sundae! We had four flavors because we couldn't decide what went better together, double-chocolate–"
Her grandmother abruptly stopped her mid-sentence, "And, who is Luke?"
Rory felt her throat go dry. Her grandmother repeated her question, patiently waiting for the next words to tumble out of her young granddaughter's mouth, "He's, uh, my friend. Mom's boyfriend," she said in a pipsqueak voice.
There was a single beat of silence on the other end. Her grandmother cleared her throat before speaking. "Well," she said with forced politeness, "That's quite an achievement, congratulations Rory on your well-deserved award. Your grandfather and I look forward to see you all at our upcoming Christmas party."
The phone conversation wrapped up just moments before her mother burst through the front door, cheeks rosy from the bitter cold New England air, a wide smile plastered across her face, "Rory!"
She held out a hand to her daughter and waggled her fingers enticingly, her blue eyes sparkling with child-like glee, "Come see!"
Luke shuffled past the girls on his way to the kitchen, a small smile playing on his lips as he started to pull out pots and pans from the cabinets. Rory held onto her mother's hand as they wove back through the living room, careful not to trip over the overflowing boxes of Christmas decor that the girls had collected from thrift stores and home-made art projects over the years.
Side-by-side they stood in the yard, heads tilted up towards the strands of multicolored lights that were hung in rows on the exterior of their house, dripping like icicles off the edge of the roof. Rory huddled into her mother's side, "Wow," She whispered, a puff of cool breath visible in the chilled air. Lorelai squeezed her daughters side, "Perfect, right?"
Luke appeared in the open doorway then, holding a scarf out that Lorelai had recently knitted. He jogged over to the two of them and quickly wrapped it around Rory's neck in a haphazard way, his brow furrowed in concentration as he fiddled with the ribbons of fringe.
"Dinner's in the oven. Let's move this inside before one or both of you catches a cold and you're stuck eating nothin' but soup for a week."
With matching grimaces, the girls followed quickly behind him.
All through dinner that evening, the phone conversation with her grandmother replayed in Rory's mind, rewinding itself backwards and forwards like a Blockbuster's tape. Even at the tender age of 10, Rory had recognized the noticeable tension between her mother and grandmother through the years. Every time they visited Hartford–and there hadn't been that many visits to draw memories upon–each one had ended in dramatics. Her mother rolling her eyes and in a huff, ushering young Rory out the door, or her grandmother throwing her arms up in annoyance and disappearing upstairs.
What had started as a simple "Thank you" phone call to her grandmother after school one afternoon, had quickly blossomed into weekly phone conversations. It was purely coincidence they just happened to occur while her mother was otherwise occupied.
"You feeling ok, Sweets?" Her mother's voice forced her out of her thoughts. She glanced down at her barely touched dinner and then met two pairs of concerned eyes. She picked up her fork and dug into the mound of mashed potatoes swimming in gravy and speared a carrot for good measure.
"I'm good!" She replied sweetly, "Luke, your pot roast is awesome."
He gave her a humble smile and sipped on his ice water, "You excited for winter break comin' up?"
Winter break. Christmas. Her grandparent's party.
Rory felt her heart rate speed up. She nodded without meeting either of their eyes and distracted herself by cutting up the rest of her pot roast and eating quietly.
Lorelai and Luke exchanged looks across the table. He tilted his head towards the young girl and looked wide-eyed, Lorelai simply shrugged her shoulder in confusion. Sure, Rory was quieter then usual, but she was downright chipper the whole day.
The rest of the evening was spent tip-toeing around Rory's mood. She seemed more chatty around dessert, happily digging into the apple pie and homemade ice cream that Luke's grandmother had sent over. When Lorelai brought up her mother's famed apple tarts and pronounced the Danes' dutch apple pie as a close contender for first place, Rory quieted down again.
Again, Luke and Lorelai exchanged questioning looks to each other, but skirted the topic. By the time the pie plate had been scraped clean, Lorelai broke the tension and suggested another installment in their Christmas-themed movie marathon. She popped in "A Christmas Story" and the three of them settled into the living room with a fire roaring courtesy of Luke.
Rory curled up in the armchair under an afghan, her mind silently on overdrive, a million words on the tip of her tongue. Instead, she rested her head on an embroidered pillow and stared at the screen.
On the couch, Lorelai cuddled against Luke, his arm tightening around her shoulders and automatically pulling her in closer. He seemed relaxed, which made Lorelai flush with happiness. She glanced around the darkened living room, at Rory's silhouette on the armchair, the firelight flickering, and the glow from the television set in the corner.
It really was the perfect day.
Luke had hired extra help for the holiday season, and along with some light encouragement from Lorelai, had actually taken advantage of it. On a rare day off from diner duties, he'd spent the day dusting off boxes of ornaments and holiday decor from Lorelai's attic and stringing up lights on direction from the girls.
With the movie blaring in the background, Lorelai had already replayed their day three times in her head. She paused a time or two, and tried to pinpoint a moment that could explain her daughter's off-kilter behavior.
By the time the credits were rolling on the screen, Luke's arm had gone heavy and limp around her frame. He had fallen asleep. She had yet to discover a film that didn't have him snoozing a quarter way through. Rory lolled her head to the side and met her mother's eyes from across the room before quickly averting them.
Lorelai frowned, and carefully unwrapped herself from Luke's embrace. She shuffled over to the arm chair and brushed Rory's bangs out of her face soothingly, "Ready for bed?" Rory silently nodded, offered her a small smile, and made her way to the downstairs bathroom to wash up.
Leaving Luke to snooze in the living room, Lorelai wandered into Rory's room a few minutes later and tucked the blankets around her daughter, a million questions still floating around her head. Rory let out a yawn and wrapped her arms around her stuffed Hug-a-World.
Lorelai bit her tongue, and simply kissed her daughter's cheek and dimmed the lights. She closed her bedroom door softly behind her, leaning against it for a moment longer, still wondering what could possibly be on her Rory's mind.
She heard rustling in the living room, and pushed herself off of the door. Luke was awake, the waning fire had been put out and the afghan was neatly folded on the arm of the sofa. He was sitting on the arm chair, lacing up his boots when Lorelai entered the room.
"Where do you think you're going, Sleeping Beauty?"
Luke looked over his shoulder and smirked, "I was not sleeping."
Lorelai sauntered over and straddled his lap. She removed his beaten up cap, and ran her fingers through his hair soothingly kissing and nipping along his jaw.
He let himself get lost in the feeling, loving the way her fingers worked their way through his hair, scratching his scalp, and twisting the curled ends. His hands smoothed up and down her denim-clad thighs, stroking them softly, "You're making it hard to get up," he murmured.
She pulled back with a wicked smile and ground her hips, her hands still buried in his hair, "I can tell."
He moved his hands to the dip in her waist, tickling her lightly until she squealed with laughter, "Luke!" He shushed her quickly, reminding her that Rory was but a few feet away in the next room.
"Mean," She whispered.
"Late," He whispered back.
She pushed her bottom lip out in a well-practiced pout, her arms slung around his neck. She leaned in and nuzzled his ear, "Stay."
Luke had spent the last seven nights at Lorelai's. It had started innocent enough, he came over after work to fix the leaky kitchen faucet and brought over burgers. The next night, it was a marathon study session with Rory that took him out. After winding Rory down for the evening, he'd passed out on the couch with Lorelai. Some hours later, with an endless roll of infomercials on the television, Lorelai had wordlessly dragged him up the stairs without a fight.
The next morning and those that followed, he'd awoken before the sun, slipping out of her bed with a featherlight kiss to her forehead. Dressing quickly with his boots in hand, he crept down the staircase, careful to avoid the spots that creaked.
Briskly, he'd made the half mile trek to the diner, slipping through the back door and taking the stairs up to his apartment two at a time. By the time his morning deliveries would show up, he was showered and dressed in fresh flannel, where the day would start all over again. So far, their nightly sleepovers had gone under the radar from Rory and the neighbors. However with the sudden change in Rory's attitude that evening, Luke was hesitant to further test their luck.
He tucked a loose curl behind her ear and motioned with his head towards the kitchen, "Rory," He whispered.
Lorelai let out a sigh, she nodded, and crawled off of Luke's lap. She held out her hand and led him towards the staircase, "Lorelai…"
She turned around at the hesitance in his voice, "Just…to talk. "I promise, I'll be good," she added with a small smile. Still holding onto his hand, she led him up the stairs and into her bedroom.
Luke took a seat on the edge of her bed, he watched Lorelai unearth a pajama set from her over-stuffed dresser and disappear into the bathroom to wash up and get comfortable. She had held out a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants to Luke, but he insisted he wasn't staying.
With a huff, she sat down on the bed in her coffee-cup pajamas and crossed her arms. "Ok now spill."
Luke's words tumbled out quickly, "Do you think Rory has a problem with me spending more time over here?"
Lorelai shook her head stubbornly, "Of course not."
"You don't think she was acting a little off tonight?" The color drained from his face, "Oh god, you don't think she's…" He cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. "Y'know heard us or anything?"
Lorelai smoothed her hand across his denim-clad thigh, a teasing smile on her lips, "Well we've learned my headboard seems to knock a steady beat or two…"
He chased her hand away from his lap and stood up to pace her bedroom, "Lorelai!"
Lorelai laughed, "Babe," She stood up and grasped both of his hands in hers, "Look at me."
At the shift in her tone, he tore his eyes away from a spot on the floor, "It only happened that one time, plus you brought over your other toolbox the very next day to secure it." She giggled at the memory but stifled her smile at his still-serious expression, "Truthfully, I don't know what's bothering her." Lorelai squeezed his hands, "It's not you. It can't be. Rory adores you. She fell asleep tonight before I could get anything out of her. But tomorrow, hopefully over pancakes," She gave him another meaningful look, "I'll find out."
"I just, I just know it's been a lot of change for her. For everyone. I don't want it to be too much for her."
The smile on her lips faltered, "Is it too much…for you?" A little afraid of his reaction, her eyes fell to her bare feet. There was a chill in the air, and she suddenly wished she'd put on a pair of fuzzy socks and a robe to ward off the chill. Lorelai dropped his hands and once again wrapped her arms around herself protectively.
He breathed out her name, and in an instant, had her gathered in his arms, reassuring her with the pull of her body against his chest. He kissed the crown of her head, "I've never felt…" He wracked his brain to try to find the words, "You make me so goddamn happy."
He tilted her chin to meet his penetrating gaze, "Lorelai, I–"
She kissed him. She swallowed his words with her kiss. Felt herself propelled backwards onto the soft mattress, shedding her pajamas as quickly as she'd pulled them on. "Ditto," She finally managed to mutter when he broke his lips away and trailed them down the length of her body.
Lorelai had been wide-awake from the moment Luke crawled out of her bed at the crack of dawn. From her pillow, she watched him gather his scattered clothing from around the room. He began to button up his flannel, but gave up halfway through, realizing several buttons had been torn off in haste the night before.
He turned to face her with his flannel hanging open and his hands on his hips. He shot her a smirk, giving Lorelai the perfect view of his abs, thanks to the tight t-shirt he had on underneath.
She sat up, brushing her wild curls from her face with one hand, hugging the flowery sheet to her chest with the other. She crooked a finger towards him. He couldn't help himself and leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. "I'll fix 'em," She murmured, before planting another one on him for good measure.
She ran a hand down his chest, but he backed away, her hand dropping down to the quilt, "Go back to sleep," he whispered.
Lorelai sunk down into her warm bed and stretched her arms over her head. The sheet slipped, giving him a view that had him letting out a growl. "I should get up too," She murmured.
Luke hung by the door for a moment longer, "No, stay just like that."
From bed, she gave him a dazzling albeit sleepy smile.
"That…is what I'm gonna think about, all damn day long."
However the moment that Luke quietly left, Lorelai threw back the covers and got herself up. She took her time to pick out an outfit, flipping through the hangers in her closet with practiced ease. She curled her hair just-so, and applied a light dusting of makeup and a swipe of crimson lipgloss. Settling on a favorite pair of jeans and form-fitting navy blue sweater, she skipped downstairs but frowned at Rory's still-closed bedroom door.
Lorelai downed two cups of coffee and a single toasted strawberry pop-tart by the time the bedroom door swung open and Rory emerged. Relieved to see that her daughter's spirits had infinitely improved overnight, she picked up the newest issue of InStyle to peruse while Rory finished getting ready for the day.
With her chin resting on the heel of her hand, Lorelai was absorbed in an article about spring trends, apparently polka dots were coming back; when Rory peeked her head out from the bathroom and asked for French braids in her hair. With a grin, she pushed her chair back and happily obliged.
"Purple or blue ribbons?" Lorelai asked, holding a different color ribbon up in each hand.
Rory looked down at her fuzzy multicolored jumper, "Purple!" She declared.
Lorelai tied the deep purple ribbons onto ends of her braids with a satisfied nod. "Can I have some lipgloss too? The sparkly one?" Rory asked.
The girls' lazy morning of primping had them all but starving for breakfast by the time they strolled into the diner thick in the morning rush.
Luke quickly got them settled with short stacks of pancakes and sides of bacon and sausage with only the slightest disapproving grunt. The diner was packed, so he didn't even have time to argue when Lorelai cajoled another hit of coffee out of him, blowing a kiss at his retreating back as a thank you.
She took a greedy sip of her coffee and not for the first time wondered how a man who hated the stuff with a passion could make a brew so damn delectable. Speaking of, she admired his more than delectable backside as he scooted around tables and refilled half-empty cups on tables on his way back to the kitchen.
"I told grandma you had a boyfriend."
An icy cold feeling that had nothing to do with the wintery temperature outside shot through her veins. She asked Rory to repeat herself, even though she heard her perfectly clear the first time.
Rory worried her lip between her teeth, and looked down at her decimated breakfast plate. She felt her ears burning, "I told grandma you had a boyfriend," She said in a small voice.
Questions, so many questions ran through Lorelai's mind. She stole a glance around the busy diner, "What? When?" she finally spurted out.
"Yesterday."
Lorelai narrowed her eyes, the pieces finally clicking together for her. "So that's why you were so quiet last night? You were afraid I would be upset?"
Rory nodded her head and finally met her mother's baby blue eyes with her own, "Aren't you?"
Lorelai had been almost certain Rory's behavior the night before had something to do with school. She thought maybe there was a tiff with her classmates, or she was simply melancholic about winter break approaching. Not in her wildest dreams, did she think Emily Gilmore had anything to do with her daughter's about-face in mood. Lorelai responded evenly, "I certainly have questions."
"Grandma called me yesterday, when you were outside with Luke."
Lorelai frowned, but listened as her daughter continued on.
Rory spat out the rest of the story quickly, as if she'd been holding it in for much longer than roughly 18 hours. "She asked me about school and I told her about the spelling bee. How Luke helped me study, and the giant ice cream sundae he made us." She felt a few hot tears escape and run down her rosy cheeks, "She asked who he was and I just, I told her he was your boyfriend."
Any anger that had been building inside of Lorelai instantly dimmed at the sight of her daughter's crying little face. She got up from the table and led Rory down the short little corridor by the restroom. She ducked inside the cramped space with her daughter. "Shh," Lorelai soothed. She gathered her into her arms and murmured, "It's okay, it's okay."
Rory pulled back and looked up at her mother teary-eyed, "You're not mad at me?"
"I'm a little mad, but not at you."
"I don't want you and grandma to fight."
"Rory," Lorelai grabbed a couple squares of toilet tissue and dabbed her carefully cheeks, "I'm not mad that you told grandma about Luke. He's a big part of our lives."
Rory nodded her head, "I like having him around."
"I do too," Lorelai agreed, "Grandma has this way of…getting under my skin sometimes. She pokes at me." Lorelai sighed, "Sweets, I don't want you to be afraid to tell me things. We're in this together, you and me. No matter who else comes into our little world, it'll always be you and me. Okay?"
"Okay," Rory whispered, "So it's okay that I call grandma sometimes?"
Lorelai nodded, she swallowed a lump forming in her throat, "Of course you can."
Rory flashed a relieved smile, "Good, because grandma has a lot of fun stories. She and grandpa were just in Paris. Can you imagine staying in Paris for a whole week? Grandma said their hotel room had a balcony that had a view straight down the Champs-Élysées. Pretty cool, right?"
"Very cool," Lorelai agreed with a tremulous smile.
A soft knock at half-open door interrupted them. Luke's disembodied voice asked, "Everything okay back here?"
With her smile back to its original wattage, Rory opened the door the rest of the way. "Mom, can I go over to the bookstore? Grandma asked me to make a list for Santa."
Lorelai nodded, and told her she would meet her next door in a few minutes. With another smile and wave at Luke, Rory dashed past Luke and quickly shoved into her winter coat, the bells jangling in her wake.
Dumbfounded, Luke looked over his shoulder at Rory's retreating back then swiveled back to Lorelai, a questioning look in his eyes. Without hesitation, she took a few steps forward, letting him comfort her in a way only Luke's flannel wrapped embrace could.