Author's Note: I originally wrote this, previously titled "False Hopes" under the name "plumlucky" many, many, moons ago and never finished. Needless to say, almost a decade later, I don't have access to that login nor can I produce the recovery information for it. It always stuck with me, especially after AYITL came out, and I desperately wanted to finish this idea, so I figure I'd try. FF does have a "one unique story per site" rule, so I've changed the Title, cleaned up any mistakes I could find, and straightened out some storylines.

One

Rory knew by the tone in her Grandmother's voice that something was up. She was asking Rory to come to dinner, keyword: asking. Emily Gilmore never asked unless she had something up her sleeve, and Rory knew full well what Emily Gilmore was capable of.

She wished she could be alone, with her homework and her books, to finish her final year of Yale out in peace before escaping into the world of journalism or anything else for that matter. Still, the matriarch Gilmore always seemed to have other plans, plans Rory knew full well revolved around Hartford Society and Rory's place in it.

She may not have had a conventional upbringing, and her arrival to the world had been surrounded by scandal, but Lorelei Gilmore-Hayden had an inheritance to live up to. As the sole surviving heir of both the Gilmore Insurance Group and Hayden Development Corporation, Rory was steps away from having a fortune handed to her, and one day they both would be entirely under her jurisdiction. No pressure or anything.

As she listened to the voicemail her Grandmother had left her, rambling on about specifics she cared nothing about, that familiar aching in her heart began as it always did. She missed her mom and their crazy conversations and desperately wished she was there to play interference with her Grandparents as she so often had before. But after her untimely death 2 years ago, Rory was left alone, and she didn't have the attitude, or the spine, that her mother had to maintain any boundaries.

Since her mother had passed away her grandparents had been starring a little too much in the show that was her life. Their presence had been a relief immediately after her death, they had seen to all the arrangements, something a 19-year-old Rory couldn't wrap her head around at the time. It was the beginning of the end, she soon realized, as their monthly dinner had turned into weekly dinners, the phone calls increased dramatically. Her Grandmother even managed to get her involved with the DAR over the summer, much to Rory's dismay. Suddenly the world that she had built and maintained over the years had been subject to a hostile takeover.

She erased the message, immediately walking over to her giant calendar of events, crossing off "Book Club" this Saturday night and inking it "Dinner at the Gilmore's," sighing as she dialed the all too familiar number.

"Hello, Grandma," she called into the phone, trying her best to sound polite.

"Rory, darling!" a voice cooed back, "Did you get my message?"

"Yes, Grandma, I've put it on my calendar, I was just letting you know I'd be there."

"Fantastic! We are having a few other guests and I want you to look your best. It's going to be semi-formal attire, so a long gown would be appropriate, perhaps that dress I got you in Paris?"

"That sounds delightful," she responded, trying her best not to gag on her own words.

"Wonderful, wonderful, we'll send a car around 6:30."

"I'll see you then, have a good night, Grandma."

"See you then, sweetheart, we love you," and with that, they hung up.

Not having anything of her own to look forward to, the week flew by, much to her dismay. She was careful to wear the dress her Grandmother had requested and made herself as Emily approved as she could.

She paused briefly as she headed to the door. Recalling the times her mother and she would take turns asking to ditch and run to Luke's for dinner instead.

She forced the memory away and smiled. She rang the bell, immediately ushered in by the butler who took her wrap and announced her arrival.

"Rory you look lovely," her Grandmother said, kissing her cheek lightly, careful not to transfer her lipstick.

"Thank you," she smiled graciously, happy to have gotten it right and not to have immediately been whisked upstairs for a "redo."

"Ah, Rory," her Grandfather bellowed, kissing her forehead and taking her by the arm, "so lovely to see you and so soon after our last visit," he said as he steered her toward the parlor.

"Nice to see you as well," she smiled, genuinely happy to see her Grandfather, who shared her love of reading and news and politics, holding onto him like a lifeline as to not be sucked into the whirlpool that was Emily Gilmore.

"Now, our other guests are already here and are most looking forward to seeing you!" her Grandmother went on, grinning as she turned the corner, leading them into a basically empty room. Except, of course, for Mitchum and Shira Huntzberger, whom Rory recognized from previous gatherings at the Gilmore Estate. What she hadn't expected at all, however, was the tall, handsome, young man, whom, though they had never met, Rory knew by reputation as the illustrious Logan Huntzberger, playboy extraordinaire.