I'm not the one who broke you/I'm not the one you should fear/ What do you got to move you darling/I thought I lost you somewhere/ But you were never really ever there at all

Lola hated interruptions. Scratch that. She especially hated being interrupted while doing she something she absolutely loved. Take now, for instance. Her stereo was playing some indie chick band that her friend Aurora had insisted that she buy, while she reread a favorite novel of hers- The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides. It contained all the ingredients for a perfectly serene afternoon. The problem? The damned phone was ringing.

She had, of course, considered letting it ring until the person bought a clue and hung up- she had her own line, but no machine, but in the end she decided that it would be best if she answered it. It could be her father, after all.

“Hello darr-ling,” The words rolled off her tongue seductively with practiced ease.

“Hello daughter,” came the amused replied.

So she had made the right decision answering the phone. “Hey Daddy. How’s London?”

“So far it looks like a bunch of board rooms filled with grumpy old men that speak with British accents.”

“At least they speak with British accents, otherwise it would sound perfectly dreadful,” Lola teased. “You’re coming back in three days, right?”

“Still want me to?”

“Of course,” Lola really did love her mother, truly but Hartford just felt more like home to her.

“Then yes I am because ‘whatever Lola wants, Lola gets’,” Her father quoted the old line like he had many time during her childhood.

“Good,” Her eyes flickered down to the page she was on.

“Did you bring Venus with you?” Tristan asked, referring to her white Persian cat.

Lola shook her head, forgetting for a moment that her father couldn’t see her, and also out of habit. “No. I left her with the staff. She doesn’t seem to like Stars Hollow that much.”

“So what are you amusing yourself with then?”

“Reading. I was doing that when you called,” She replied.

“And what are we reading today, Lo?”

Lola looked down at the paragraph she had just read. “In comparison, the loves of his early manhood were docile creatures with smooth flanks and dependable outcries. Even during the act of love he could envision them brining him hot milk, doing his taxes or presiding tearfully at his deathbed. They were warm, loving---”

Tristan cut her off, “Virgin Suicides, I got it Lola.”

She laughed, “Too much?”

“A little,” Tristan looked down at his watch. “I have to go for one more meeting before bed. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Okay,” Lola replied with a sigh. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” He told her before hanging up the phone.

Lola hung up the phone, looking forlornly at the phone before returning to her book.

Lorelai Gilmore flipped to a new page in her magazine before casting a glance at her granddaughter’s closed door. Lola would remind Lorelai of herself if she was being stifled and was unhappy. But Lola got along great with her parents. She enjoyed her life with her father, the whole socialite scene. In fact she reveled being in the spot light. So Lola was just Lola because she could be. In short, she was far too much like her father.

Lorelai loved Lola, she truly did, and hell she even liked Tristan, but the two of them treated life as if it was just a game there to amuse them. Tristan had mellowed out in that field after he and Rory began dating but there was a period after the divorce that he had reverted back to his own ways and them some. But having the most custody of Lola mellowed him out again.

Her inner musings were cut short by the front door opening; Lorelai set the magazine back to its original place and stood to greet her daughter.

“You have a house, right?” Rory asked as soon as she saw Lorelai standing there. “It’s not just a figment of my imagination?”

Lorelai glared at her daughter, “Yes, I do. But I came to see my granddaughter and daughter.”

“So Lola is here?” Rory asked, stepping towards her daughter’s room.

“Yeah,” Lorelai answered before adding. “How do you feel about becoming a grandmother?”

Rory stopped dead in her tracks, “Now?”

“Well in the very near future if you don’t put a leash on Tristan Juniorette.”

She rolled her eyes; “Lola is nothing like Tristan at that age. Well, she does have that much charm but that’s about as far as it goes, Mom.”

“Tell that to Devon Mariano,” Lorelai grumbled.

Rory guffawed, “Please, Mom, we raised them like brother and sister.” She continued on to Lola’s door as Lorelai rolled her eyes. She knocked softly before entering.

Lola looked up from the book she was reading, saw who it was and then continued on. “Hey Mom.”

“Hey sweetie,” Rory replied, leaning against the doorframe. “So Devon was here?”

“Uh-huh, he’s in town during break.”

“Well we’ll have to invite him and Dallie to dinner tonight then.”

Lola looked up sharply. “What?”

“I know you and Dallie are never on the best of terms…”

“To say the least,” she interjected.

“But I spent most of my high school years being forced to do thing I didn’t like,” Rory finished off. “So please let me do this one thing?”

Lola sighed, “Oh I suppose I can put up with the Cowboy for one night.”

“And you’ll be on your best behavior?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” She muttered and then flashed her mother a blinding smile.

“Cute.” Rory replied, “Can you go down to Luke’s and invite them for me?”

She thought for a moment, “Now?”

“Within the hour, please,” Rory, said before leaving the room.

Lola sighed before returning to the book.