GG Fic: Sometimes You Do 11/40
Aug. 7th, 2009 01:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
faye_dartmouthA/N: This one seems kind of slow to me, but it is a set up chapter thematically. This fic just sort of meanders, I think, in a very roundabout, Stars Hollow kind of way. Rory is back and forth and up and down, and I just hope you all can humor me enough to see it as growth :) Thanks! Previous parts here.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
She found her mother at the inn. Staring at a wall.
What was more disturbing, when Rory thought about it, was that it seemed perfectly normal. Not quite normal normal, but certainly not abnormal. Or abnormally normal. Just normally abnormal.
Whatever the case, the point was, it didn't actually faze her.
Instead she joined Lorelai, cocking her head and staring thoughtfully at the blank space on the wall.
After a few moments, Rory leaned closer and whispered. "What are we doing?"
Her mother collected and released a sigh. "Contemplating."
"I was hoping for something more specific."
"Artwork," Lorelai said. "I need new artwork."
"Oh," Rory said. "You mean you don't want a blank wall?"
"Well, look at it," her mother said, nodding at the empty place. "It just screams for something to fill it. There are some places that are just made for that kind of thing, especially nooks. You can't have a nook without decoration, otherwise you're really not utilizing the nook at all. Because what else do you do in a nook beside appreciate the decoration?"
"Good point," Rory said. "Utilization of a nook is often overlooked."
"Unduly so," her mother said. Then she paused before looking at her daughter. "Somehow I'm not sure you actually care about nooks, decorative or otherwise."
"Of course I care," Rory said. "Deeply and passionately. Nooks are very important. Crannies, maybe not so much, only in relationship to the nooks they correspond to."
"Liar."
"I do it for you."
"What do you want again?"
"Do you believe in fate?"
Lorelai frowned. "Okay, random," she said. "Unless, you know, it was fate that made you ask the question, in which case then it might make sense because then at least it's connected to something."
Rory rolled her eyes. "I've just been thinking about it," she said. "About how I ended up back home. Writing for the Gazette. Falling into new routines that are practically old routines and if somehow it's all meant to happen."
"Are you sure you're my daughter?"
"Mom--"
"Because my daughter has never believed in fate," she said. "Whatever happened to hard work and perseverance and--"
"Mom--"
"And making lists!" Lorelai said. "You love lists. Pros and cons and--"
"I still do all those things!" Rory protested. "But it's just--I don't know. Sometimes the way this is working out, I just feel like it's all something I can't control."
Her mother paused, looking at her as carefully as though she was a wall in need of decoration. "You're really serious, aren't you?"
"Look, I'm just asking your opinion," Rory said. She did not need the mockery. Not that she ever needed it, but it was a part of how her life was but today she just didn't have the heart. "Just forget it."
"No, no," Lorelai said, seeming to sense Rory's desperation. Perhaps her maternal instincts weren't completely impaired, as they sometimes seemed to be. "Stop. Now, listen. You're thinking about fate, right? About whether or not there's something pushing us in certain directions that we can't control?"
Rory shrugged.
"Well, everyone thinks that from time to time," her mother said. "Like, for example. Last week a guest ran into that doorway and knocked the picture on this wall over, effectively shattering the glass. The shattering of the glass scratched the picture, which, by the way, was an original painting by some old lady who used to live here. It was all very traumatic and awful and Michel nearly cried for a day straight. But, if this guest hadn't knocked into the wall, then I would never have had the chance to replace it. So I never would have been staring at this wall. And if I hadn't been staring at this wall, then, who knows? You may not have asked the question at all. So, really, yes, there is fate. It's just not always as dramatic as we like to think."
"So, you don't think that it's fate that you and Luke are you and Luke?"
Lorelai laughed a little. "Maybe," she said. "If fate has a very roundabout way of doing things."
"What about me? Being back and all."
"You know why you quit your job, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then maybe circumstances pushed you to it, but that was still all you, babe."
Rory hesitated. "What about--what about me and Dean?"
At that, her mother raised her eyebrows. "Last I heard, there wasn't much to you and Dean."
"Well, that's why I'm asking," Rory said. "Because it seems like there should be. Like fate brought us both back here for a reason and everything is clicking and--"
"Honey, that's called hormones," Lorelai said. "The little things that make you go all wacky for a guy when you see him. I'm pretty sure we had this talk when you turned twelve. They've calmed down some, but you still have them."
"But it's more than just a feeling," Rory insisted. "It's the history and--"
"Does Dean feel the same way?"
Rory sighed. The simplicity of her mother's question was an immediate downer. Because she knew the answer. "He's being very evasive."
Her mother smiled sympathetically. "Look, fate may exist. There are undoubtedly forces out there that are setting things up, moving pieces in some kind of cosmic chess game. But it doesn't make you act. It can't dictate your feelings. And fate or no fate, it still takes two. Right now, all you've got is one."
"Well," Rory said, turning back to the wall. "I think we'll have more luck with your problem."
She didn't have to look at her mother to know she was smiling. Not a lighthearted smile, but a sympathetic one. But this wasn't something Lorelai could fix. Not that she was the type who would do that anyway. Sink or swim. Fate or choice, this was Rory’s challenge and she'd just have to figure it out, no matter how difficult Dean Forester seemed bent on making it.
-o-
Writing was always a difficult process. Writers were by default nearly always temperamental and had to work around the whims of their muses. That was where journalists suffered greatly. Not only were they expected to meet word quotas on a daily basis, but they were expected to do it well. Other writers could produce pages of crap to get to a paragraph worth saving and call it a good day. But good day or bad day, Rory had a thousand words to come up with, and given how much of a hit her writing seemed to be, she couldn't hit a clunker just yet.
It wasn't like she didn't have stuff to work with. Odd stuff, yes, but even she had to admit that it was entertaining. Miss Patty's quotes were as excessive and flamboyant as her personality. All Rory had to do was string them together coherently and let Miss Patty sell herself.
Additionally, it was her first piece under the new contract, her first piece as a regular staffed member. Her first piece as the voice of Stars Hollow. Sure, Ned had suggested the content based on some rumors he’d heard, but Rory was already being granted the daunting task of writing about Miss Patty. This was an article of proof, an article of ego, an article that was a gateway to the rest of her so-called career.
So, why couldn't she focus?
It would have been easy to blame it on Luke--the way he talked about Dean, the way he knew Dean, the negative reaction to the whole idea that she'd expected Dean to be hers again.
But it wasn't just Luke. It was her mother, too. They both knew more, they both knew Dean, and she couldn't figure out why she was still at arm's distance.
Because she was Rory. She was the voice of Stars Hollow. It really kind of seemed like the world was hers for the taking and everyone was playing along--everyone except Dean.
Rory had a healthy sense of self. That didn't make her wrong. And really, it was okay if Dean didn't find her attractive anymore or if Dean had other girls he was interested in. But the fact remained that she was into him and he was into her and it was so damn obvious--
Wait, she'd heard that before.
She sighed.
She didn't have time to think about this. Well, she had time, she just didn't have it now. She was the voice of Stars Hollow and more importantly, she had a deadline. Rory didn't miss deadlines. Not without good reason anyway, and obsessing over her ex-boyfriend hardly seemed like a valid excuse.
Except it was valid. Because she wasn't used to not being able to follow her heart where it wanted to go. It was true that sometimes things didn't work out the way she wanted them to, but she still had always been able to figure out why. And now, it wasn't so much that Dean was putting her off as it was that she couldn't wrap her mind around it.
And hadn't she been on this train of thought before? Since when had her logic taken her in a circular motion and when was she finally going to just let it go? Leave it to fate?
Because fate was Rory's fair-weathered friend and she didn't like where it was taking her when it came to one very attractive ex-boyfriend.
Again, though, she'd been here before. She'd probably be here again. Which meant for tonight she needed to either talk to her mom or let it go.
Her mother would be merciless. Probably still vague and without any real advice. At least not advice she wanted to hear.
Which meant letting it go. Easier said than done, perhaps. But mind over matter. She could do that. She knew she could.
She looked back at her computer and went to the word count. Forty-five words.
With a sigh, she put her fingers back on the keys. Only 955 left to go.
-o-
She finished the article. Just as she'd suspected, Miss Patty's quotes told the story enough. Once Rory had finally gotten her mind through its clogged thinking process, finishing it really hadn't been that hard.
Too bad the rest of her life wouldn't fall into place like that. Too bad her ability to let go lasted all of five hours, four of which she was asleep during. Because when the morning came, that awful sense of discontent was with her still.
The worst part was that she really couldn't place what was wrong. She had a successful career. She was back home and everyone so was thrilled to see her. She was with her mom, she was growing close to Luke again, so what on earth was the problem?
Okay, so she knew, but she just didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to admit it. Because...because it wasn't something within her comfort zone, wasn't something she even wanted to deal with, something she'd never had to deal with in the past.
There was a song Rory knew, not well, but that she'd heard. Older, she figured, by some group she really should know the name of but really couldn't quite remember. All she could remember was the hook, of course, and it was the kind of line that got stuck in her head, on endless repeat.
You can't always get what you want.
And that was far too true.
She wanted to try for more with Dean. Not just a little summer fling, not just because he was suddenly new and attractive and exciting like he had been at the beginning. But because she did. There were a million reasons, but it all came down to the simple fact that this wasn’t a passing fantasy. It was a real desire, a staying one, a desire for Dean.
Yes, the Dean who she'd let walk away like five billion times. That Dean. Maybe she was just lonely. Maybe it really was just nostalgia. Maybe she was simply falling victim to the unnatural attractiveness of his newly adult body.
But whatever the reason, she wanted him. And she had to be his friend.
The deadly words in the dating world. Just friends. She'd relegated Dean to that role before and he'd gotten married too young because of it. She hardly thought she was prone to the same mistake, but the last time they'd really tried to be just friends, they'd ended up in an adulterous affair with an unhappy ending.
But whatever! History! Past! She was grown and he certainly was as well.
But she couldn't always get what she wanted. Not even a Gilmore could be that lucky.
Besides, the song had one more line she knew. If you try sometimes, you might just find...you get what you need.
And what she needed wasn't a boyfriend.
She needed to reestablish her career. Re-find her direction. And that much she could say with certainty was happening.
One published piece in the Gazette and her second one finished. She needed to start in the places that made sense, the places where she only had to convince people to hire her, to read her, not to fall in love with her. She'd won over Ned, she was winning over Stars Hollow, and now she just needed to direct some of her energy into figuring out where on earth that would take her next.
-o-
Ned was in the office when she got there in the morning, devouring a doughnut (glazed with some kind of hazelnut frosting, it looked like) and downing some coffee. He brightened when he saw her, which was always sort of pleasant. She didn't know Ned well, but she didn't have to. Everyone liked to see people happy, especially to see people happy in response to them. It did wonders for the ego. And Rory needed that boost at the moment, more than she had realized.
"You have it?" he asked.
She held out a disk and a hard copy. "One thousand words, just as requested," Rory said proudly. "Though I'm sure Miss Patty would have gladly talked for about a thousand more."
Ned accepted them, eyes scanning the page. "Well, old Patty's just lucky I humor her at all," he said. He looked up at Rory with a conspiratorial wag of his eyebrow. "She doesn't realize that we don't have to publish stuff about her. I could have easily spiced up the town meeting report enough to fill the space."
"Well, I'm sure Miss Patty will be quite grateful," Rory said. "Though those town meetings--pretty intense."
"I know!" Ned said, oblivious to Rory's quasi-sarcasm. "Taylor had some nutso ideas last night. Did you know that he wants to rezone the team boundaries for Little League? Do you have any idea what that would do to the town?"
"Make new teams?"
"It would disrupt the entire flow of the season!"
"Oh," Rory said, hoping that she was seeming more interested than her feigned attempts really justified. "We certainly wouldn't want that. Little Leaguers, after all, carry bats and all. Dangerous thing to make bat-wielding kids mad."
He looked at her, head cocked, perplexed. Then he laughed. "You could probably write one heck of an article about it, couldn't you?"
She raised her eyebrows. "About Little League boundaries?"
"About anything," Ned said. "You've got talent, kid. More talent than I even know what to do with in some rinky-dink operation like this. I have no idea why you're really here, but I'll take it for as long as I can get."
It was almost like damning with faint praise, but Ned was so sincere. And she couldn't fault the guy, could she? Not when the highlight of his day was his doughnut and coffee? "So you think the Little League thing has potential?"
He grinned. "I say go for it. As long as you want. Sports page header."
Her eyes lit up. Sports page header was better than Local News secondary. Much better than the Recipe Corner, perhaps even better the Feature page, though that really was a toss up. "You won't be disappointed."
He chuckled, slipping the disk into his archaic machine. "I know I won't," he said. "And, Rory, this article? About Miss Patty? Brilliant."
She couldn't help but beam. Praise was praise. "Thank you."
"Only you could make Miss Patty sound like a true figure of interest and not a town gossip."
"Well she doesn't make it easy," Rory said.
He scoffed. "Trust me, I know," he said. "I've been writing in this town for nearly thirty years."
"When do you want the baseball piece?"
"Day after tomorrow work?"
"Will do," she said.
Ned nodded. "Good," he said. "Good. I'd request a word count, but I'd rather let you take it where it goes. I can't put restraints on something like this. I'm learning. Slowly. But I'm learning."
He was smiling and Rory was smiling and she was still smiling when she left the office. This was working. This was happening. Her career, wherever it was heading, was solid. Established. Glowing. Sure, she needed to think about where to next, but for now? She could bask in the glory of where she was. Because the way her luck on the job was going, the next step wouldn't be hard to figure out.
Which meant...
Which meant she could focus on other things.
She'd gotten what she needed.
Maybe she could get what she wanted, too.
Okay, so that was sort of a quick turnaround from the night before. After all, a Sports page top story in Stars Hollow still didn’t exactly cement her journalism career. Nor did it tell her exactly where she was supposed to go. But this was fate. Fate, all over again. It was telling her something. All this momentum. This work stuff, she barely even had to try. So if she had what she needed so readily in her grasp, then maybe it was time to try for that whole boyfriend thing that had been bugging her since she saw Dean again.
One thing she knew for sure. If she could write an article about Miss Patty's clandestine operations to kick-start her career as the next Martha Stewart, she could go talk to Dean.
Next
She found her mother at the inn. Staring at a wall.
What was more disturbing, when Rory thought about it, was that it seemed perfectly normal. Not quite normal normal, but certainly not abnormal. Or abnormally normal. Just normally abnormal.
Whatever the case, the point was, it didn't actually faze her.
Instead she joined Lorelai, cocking her head and staring thoughtfully at the blank space on the wall.
After a few moments, Rory leaned closer and whispered. "What are we doing?"
Her mother collected and released a sigh. "Contemplating."
"I was hoping for something more specific."
"Artwork," Lorelai said. "I need new artwork."
"Oh," Rory said. "You mean you don't want a blank wall?"
"Well, look at it," her mother said, nodding at the empty place. "It just screams for something to fill it. There are some places that are just made for that kind of thing, especially nooks. You can't have a nook without decoration, otherwise you're really not utilizing the nook at all. Because what else do you do in a nook beside appreciate the decoration?"
"Good point," Rory said. "Utilization of a nook is often overlooked."
"Unduly so," her mother said. Then she paused before looking at her daughter. "Somehow I'm not sure you actually care about nooks, decorative or otherwise."
"Of course I care," Rory said. "Deeply and passionately. Nooks are very important. Crannies, maybe not so much, only in relationship to the nooks they correspond to."
"Liar."
"I do it for you."
"What do you want again?"
"Do you believe in fate?"
Lorelai frowned. "Okay, random," she said. "Unless, you know, it was fate that made you ask the question, in which case then it might make sense because then at least it's connected to something."
Rory rolled her eyes. "I've just been thinking about it," she said. "About how I ended up back home. Writing for the Gazette. Falling into new routines that are practically old routines and if somehow it's all meant to happen."
"Are you sure you're my daughter?"
"Mom--"
"Because my daughter has never believed in fate," she said. "Whatever happened to hard work and perseverance and--"
"Mom--"
"And making lists!" Lorelai said. "You love lists. Pros and cons and--"
"I still do all those things!" Rory protested. "But it's just--I don't know. Sometimes the way this is working out, I just feel like it's all something I can't control."
Her mother paused, looking at her as carefully as though she was a wall in need of decoration. "You're really serious, aren't you?"
"Look, I'm just asking your opinion," Rory said. She did not need the mockery. Not that she ever needed it, but it was a part of how her life was but today she just didn't have the heart. "Just forget it."
"No, no," Lorelai said, seeming to sense Rory's desperation. Perhaps her maternal instincts weren't completely impaired, as they sometimes seemed to be. "Stop. Now, listen. You're thinking about fate, right? About whether or not there's something pushing us in certain directions that we can't control?"
Rory shrugged.
"Well, everyone thinks that from time to time," her mother said. "Like, for example. Last week a guest ran into that doorway and knocked the picture on this wall over, effectively shattering the glass. The shattering of the glass scratched the picture, which, by the way, was an original painting by some old lady who used to live here. It was all very traumatic and awful and Michel nearly cried for a day straight. But, if this guest hadn't knocked into the wall, then I would never have had the chance to replace it. So I never would have been staring at this wall. And if I hadn't been staring at this wall, then, who knows? You may not have asked the question at all. So, really, yes, there is fate. It's just not always as dramatic as we like to think."
"So, you don't think that it's fate that you and Luke are you and Luke?"
Lorelai laughed a little. "Maybe," she said. "If fate has a very roundabout way of doing things."
"What about me? Being back and all."
"You know why you quit your job, right?"
"Yeah."
"Then maybe circumstances pushed you to it, but that was still all you, babe."
Rory hesitated. "What about--what about me and Dean?"
At that, her mother raised her eyebrows. "Last I heard, there wasn't much to you and Dean."
"Well, that's why I'm asking," Rory said. "Because it seems like there should be. Like fate brought us both back here for a reason and everything is clicking and--"
"Honey, that's called hormones," Lorelai said. "The little things that make you go all wacky for a guy when you see him. I'm pretty sure we had this talk when you turned twelve. They've calmed down some, but you still have them."
"But it's more than just a feeling," Rory insisted. "It's the history and--"
"Does Dean feel the same way?"
Rory sighed. The simplicity of her mother's question was an immediate downer. Because she knew the answer. "He's being very evasive."
Her mother smiled sympathetically. "Look, fate may exist. There are undoubtedly forces out there that are setting things up, moving pieces in some kind of cosmic chess game. But it doesn't make you act. It can't dictate your feelings. And fate or no fate, it still takes two. Right now, all you've got is one."
"Well," Rory said, turning back to the wall. "I think we'll have more luck with your problem."
She didn't have to look at her mother to know she was smiling. Not a lighthearted smile, but a sympathetic one. But this wasn't something Lorelai could fix. Not that she was the type who would do that anyway. Sink or swim. Fate or choice, this was Rory’s challenge and she'd just have to figure it out, no matter how difficult Dean Forester seemed bent on making it.
-o-
Writing was always a difficult process. Writers were by default nearly always temperamental and had to work around the whims of their muses. That was where journalists suffered greatly. Not only were they expected to meet word quotas on a daily basis, but they were expected to do it well. Other writers could produce pages of crap to get to a paragraph worth saving and call it a good day. But good day or bad day, Rory had a thousand words to come up with, and given how much of a hit her writing seemed to be, she couldn't hit a clunker just yet.
It wasn't like she didn't have stuff to work with. Odd stuff, yes, but even she had to admit that it was entertaining. Miss Patty's quotes were as excessive and flamboyant as her personality. All Rory had to do was string them together coherently and let Miss Patty sell herself.
Additionally, it was her first piece under the new contract, her first piece as a regular staffed member. Her first piece as the voice of Stars Hollow. Sure, Ned had suggested the content based on some rumors he’d heard, but Rory was already being granted the daunting task of writing about Miss Patty. This was an article of proof, an article of ego, an article that was a gateway to the rest of her so-called career.
So, why couldn't she focus?
It would have been easy to blame it on Luke--the way he talked about Dean, the way he knew Dean, the negative reaction to the whole idea that she'd expected Dean to be hers again.
But it wasn't just Luke. It was her mother, too. They both knew more, they both knew Dean, and she couldn't figure out why she was still at arm's distance.
Because she was Rory. She was the voice of Stars Hollow. It really kind of seemed like the world was hers for the taking and everyone was playing along--everyone except Dean.
Rory had a healthy sense of self. That didn't make her wrong. And really, it was okay if Dean didn't find her attractive anymore or if Dean had other girls he was interested in. But the fact remained that she was into him and he was into her and it was so damn obvious--
Wait, she'd heard that before.
She sighed.
She didn't have time to think about this. Well, she had time, she just didn't have it now. She was the voice of Stars Hollow and more importantly, she had a deadline. Rory didn't miss deadlines. Not without good reason anyway, and obsessing over her ex-boyfriend hardly seemed like a valid excuse.
Except it was valid. Because she wasn't used to not being able to follow her heart where it wanted to go. It was true that sometimes things didn't work out the way she wanted them to, but she still had always been able to figure out why. And now, it wasn't so much that Dean was putting her off as it was that she couldn't wrap her mind around it.
And hadn't she been on this train of thought before? Since when had her logic taken her in a circular motion and when was she finally going to just let it go? Leave it to fate?
Because fate was Rory's fair-weathered friend and she didn't like where it was taking her when it came to one very attractive ex-boyfriend.
Again, though, she'd been here before. She'd probably be here again. Which meant for tonight she needed to either talk to her mom or let it go.
Her mother would be merciless. Probably still vague and without any real advice. At least not advice she wanted to hear.
Which meant letting it go. Easier said than done, perhaps. But mind over matter. She could do that. She knew she could.
She looked back at her computer and went to the word count. Forty-five words.
With a sigh, she put her fingers back on the keys. Only 955 left to go.
-o-
She finished the article. Just as she'd suspected, Miss Patty's quotes told the story enough. Once Rory had finally gotten her mind through its clogged thinking process, finishing it really hadn't been that hard.
Too bad the rest of her life wouldn't fall into place like that. Too bad her ability to let go lasted all of five hours, four of which she was asleep during. Because when the morning came, that awful sense of discontent was with her still.
The worst part was that she really couldn't place what was wrong. She had a successful career. She was back home and everyone so was thrilled to see her. She was with her mom, she was growing close to Luke again, so what on earth was the problem?
Okay, so she knew, but she just didn't want to talk about it. She didn't want to admit it. Because...because it wasn't something within her comfort zone, wasn't something she even wanted to deal with, something she'd never had to deal with in the past.
There was a song Rory knew, not well, but that she'd heard. Older, she figured, by some group she really should know the name of but really couldn't quite remember. All she could remember was the hook, of course, and it was the kind of line that got stuck in her head, on endless repeat.
You can't always get what you want.
And that was far too true.
She wanted to try for more with Dean. Not just a little summer fling, not just because he was suddenly new and attractive and exciting like he had been at the beginning. But because she did. There were a million reasons, but it all came down to the simple fact that this wasn’t a passing fantasy. It was a real desire, a staying one, a desire for Dean.
Yes, the Dean who she'd let walk away like five billion times. That Dean. Maybe she was just lonely. Maybe it really was just nostalgia. Maybe she was simply falling victim to the unnatural attractiveness of his newly adult body.
But whatever the reason, she wanted him. And she had to be his friend.
The deadly words in the dating world. Just friends. She'd relegated Dean to that role before and he'd gotten married too young because of it. She hardly thought she was prone to the same mistake, but the last time they'd really tried to be just friends, they'd ended up in an adulterous affair with an unhappy ending.
But whatever! History! Past! She was grown and he certainly was as well.
But she couldn't always get what she wanted. Not even a Gilmore could be that lucky.
Besides, the song had one more line she knew. If you try sometimes, you might just find...you get what you need.
And what she needed wasn't a boyfriend.
She needed to reestablish her career. Re-find her direction. And that much she could say with certainty was happening.
One published piece in the Gazette and her second one finished. She needed to start in the places that made sense, the places where she only had to convince people to hire her, to read her, not to fall in love with her. She'd won over Ned, she was winning over Stars Hollow, and now she just needed to direct some of her energy into figuring out where on earth that would take her next.
-o-
Ned was in the office when she got there in the morning, devouring a doughnut (glazed with some kind of hazelnut frosting, it looked like) and downing some coffee. He brightened when he saw her, which was always sort of pleasant. She didn't know Ned well, but she didn't have to. Everyone liked to see people happy, especially to see people happy in response to them. It did wonders for the ego. And Rory needed that boost at the moment, more than she had realized.
"You have it?" he asked.
She held out a disk and a hard copy. "One thousand words, just as requested," Rory said proudly. "Though I'm sure Miss Patty would have gladly talked for about a thousand more."
Ned accepted them, eyes scanning the page. "Well, old Patty's just lucky I humor her at all," he said. He looked up at Rory with a conspiratorial wag of his eyebrow. "She doesn't realize that we don't have to publish stuff about her. I could have easily spiced up the town meeting report enough to fill the space."
"Well, I'm sure Miss Patty will be quite grateful," Rory said. "Though those town meetings--pretty intense."
"I know!" Ned said, oblivious to Rory's quasi-sarcasm. "Taylor had some nutso ideas last night. Did you know that he wants to rezone the team boundaries for Little League? Do you have any idea what that would do to the town?"
"Make new teams?"
"It would disrupt the entire flow of the season!"
"Oh," Rory said, hoping that she was seeming more interested than her feigned attempts really justified. "We certainly wouldn't want that. Little Leaguers, after all, carry bats and all. Dangerous thing to make bat-wielding kids mad."
He looked at her, head cocked, perplexed. Then he laughed. "You could probably write one heck of an article about it, couldn't you?"
She raised her eyebrows. "About Little League boundaries?"
"About anything," Ned said. "You've got talent, kid. More talent than I even know what to do with in some rinky-dink operation like this. I have no idea why you're really here, but I'll take it for as long as I can get."
It was almost like damning with faint praise, but Ned was so sincere. And she couldn't fault the guy, could she? Not when the highlight of his day was his doughnut and coffee? "So you think the Little League thing has potential?"
He grinned. "I say go for it. As long as you want. Sports page header."
Her eyes lit up. Sports page header was better than Local News secondary. Much better than the Recipe Corner, perhaps even better the Feature page, though that really was a toss up. "You won't be disappointed."
He chuckled, slipping the disk into his archaic machine. "I know I won't," he said. "And, Rory, this article? About Miss Patty? Brilliant."
She couldn't help but beam. Praise was praise. "Thank you."
"Only you could make Miss Patty sound like a true figure of interest and not a town gossip."
"Well she doesn't make it easy," Rory said.
He scoffed. "Trust me, I know," he said. "I've been writing in this town for nearly thirty years."
"When do you want the baseball piece?"
"Day after tomorrow work?"
"Will do," she said.
Ned nodded. "Good," he said. "Good. I'd request a word count, but I'd rather let you take it where it goes. I can't put restraints on something like this. I'm learning. Slowly. But I'm learning."
He was smiling and Rory was smiling and she was still smiling when she left the office. This was working. This was happening. Her career, wherever it was heading, was solid. Established. Glowing. Sure, she needed to think about where to next, but for now? She could bask in the glory of where she was. Because the way her luck on the job was going, the next step wouldn't be hard to figure out.
Which meant...
Which meant she could focus on other things.
She'd gotten what she needed.
Maybe she could get what she wanted, too.
Okay, so that was sort of a quick turnaround from the night before. After all, a Sports page top story in Stars Hollow still didn’t exactly cement her journalism career. Nor did it tell her exactly where she was supposed to go. But this was fate. Fate, all over again. It was telling her something. All this momentum. This work stuff, she barely even had to try. So if she had what she needed so readily in her grasp, then maybe it was time to try for that whole boyfriend thing that had been bugging her since she saw Dean again.
One thing she knew for sure. If she could write an article about Miss Patty's clandestine operations to kick-start her career as the next Martha Stewart, she could go talk to Dean.
Next
