Gilmore Girls: Wish Upon a Snow

Chapter 31

"Logan!" Mitchum said with faux cheer, striding into the center of the room and crossing his arms. Rory felt exhausted and uncomfortable. The old feelings she had as his intern- the insecurity, the discomfort- came roaring back to the surface as if they had never left.
"Hello, Dad," Logan said with trepidation.
"Hello Rory," Mitchum said, narrowing his eyes and stepping closer to them. Rory instinctively took a few steps away from Mitchum, placing herself behind the desk. The added barrier of its solid oak brought her the twinge of security that she desperately needed.
She swallowed. "Hi, Mr. Huntzberger," she said quietly.
"Well, son. I've got to say..." Mitchum began, picking up an expensive paperweight from the corner of Logan's desk and holding it in his hand as if to consider its weight, "When Odette told me you all had broken up, I was very disappointed. I will add that I was not entirely surprised that it had to do with our friend Rory Gilmore over here. You've been hung up on her for over a decade now. I thought that we had dodged this particular bullet a long time ago when she foolishly turned down your proposal. It seems now that she realized she is not the journalist that she thought herself to be that she has come crawling back, looking for a wealthy benefactor." Mitchum smirked as he turned to Rory, turning the paperweight over in his hand. "I do believe I accurately predicted this particular downfall many years ago. It's a shame really. You could have had so much extra time to pursue a more realistic passion...but you decided to jump into my game even after I so kindly tried to shield you. And you failed, miserably," Mitchum laughed derisively, turning back to Logan.

Logan remained stoic, standing across from his father, his face betraying no hint of emotion. Rory felt a cold sweat beginning to form on her arms and the back of her neck as Mitchum cleared his throat and continued, louder than before.

"Now all of this, I can tolerate. I feel quite vindicated, really, that your small town college girlfriend with her big city dreams turned out to be a terrible journalist, just like I predicted. It is poetic, in a way. Such a cliche," he smiled condescendingly at Rory, his eyes flashing fire.

"Now what I cannot tolerate," he went on, stepping towards Logan, "Is the two of you making me look like a fool," he yelled, his voice full of hatred. He threw the paperweight across the room. It whizzed past Logan's head at full speed, smashing into the custom wood built-in bookshelf behind him with a crash. The paperweight shattered, sending shards of porcelain all over the office and leaving a sizable dent in the bookshelf. Rory screamed involuntarily, crouching behind the desk with her hands over her head.

Logan barely flinched at his outburst. He put his hands in his pocket, sighing. "Do you feel better, Dad?" he asked, the hint of a smile playing across his lips. Behind the desk, Rory began to sob quietly, sinking down to a sitting position out of sight and covering her face with her hands.

Mitchum pushed the strands of hair that had fallen on to his forehead back and smoothed his suit jacket. "No, I don't, and I am not going to until you take care of this problem. I told you," his voice crept up in volume and he shook his finger at Logan. Mitchum took a deep breath as if realizing he was close to getting out of control again and lowered his voice to a dangerous whisper. "I told you," he repeated, his eyes narrowed, "that Rory Gilmore and her white trash family were going to railroad you for every dollar you had. I told you that. Ten years ago. Ten! And what do you do? As soon as you find someone who has money of her own that does not need a dime of yours...who is bright, beautiful, and actually has an upbringing similar to yours? You go and knock up this girl who is not even worthy of five minutes of your time. That is what you do. Typical Logan Huntzberger. Can't take one damn thing seriously, ever." He took a deep breath again.

Logan leaned against the bookshelf, crossing his legs at the ankles and placing his hands in his pockets. He said nothing, watching his father.

"I really wanted more for you, you know. I thought after watching Shira and my marriage implode that you would have wanted to find someone who was your equal. Someone you could call a real partner in life, not someone who was looking for a leg up. Odette did not need anything from you. You really hurt her. I am so disappointed in you." Mitchum's voice, though clear and strong, betrayed more than a hint of sadness.

Logan still did not speak, burying his hands deeper into his pockets and gazing at Mitchum.

"I hope you think about what I said, Logan."

Logan gave him a curt nod, striding across the room and opening the door, signaling the end of the conversation. Mitchum turned to leave, stopping at the door to face his son.

"I love you, Logan." At this, Logan did flinch, visible pain spreading across his face.

"Goodbye," Logan said.

Mitchum nodded sadly. "Goodbye, Logan."