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Lorelai stares at it.
“Oh my God,” she finally says.
“I know.” Luke’s voice is heavy. Grim. Though some could argue, under the circumstances, not heavy and grim enough!
“And it was just … here?” She tries to comprehend the depravity.
“Out front when I showed up this morning. In a Walmart box.”
“Walmart?” Lorelai recoils some more.
“I know,” Luke says, even heavier. Grimmer. That’s more like it.
They keep staring at the offending object where it sits, pretending to be oh-so-innocent, on the diner counter. Normally, getting up earlier than absolutely necessary is a big no for Lorelai, but she’s glad Luke alerted her to this disaster while it’s still dark out and the diner hasn’t opened yet. She can’t imagine what it would be like if this got out.
“Walmart dares besmirch the streets of Stars Hollow? Did Taylor see it?”
“I think I got it inside in time.”
“You better hope you did. Because if Taylor thinks you’re ordering stuff from Walmart, that’s it. Game over. Every town meeting for the next calendar year will be him railing about why Doose’s Market has everything that every Stars Hollowian could need, actually, and to shop at a big box store is tantamount to shooting every local small business owner in the town square.”
“I got it inside in time.”
“Sounding mighty confident for a man who’s staring down the barrel of a straight twelve months of Taylor rants.”
“I’ll burn the box. How’s that?”
“Oh, Luke. Evil doesn’t burn. We’re talking stake through the heart. We’re talking rocket launcher!”
“Don’t rocket launchers burn stuff?”
“How can you expect me to understand the logistics of a rocket launcher right now??”
“At least we’re staying calm about this.”
“Is that snark I detect? Here, now, in the most ‘woke up with a horse head in the bed’ moment we’ve ever experienced?”
“Sorry.”
“So. Walmart, huh?” Lorelai tries to channel her inner Benoit Blanc. “Is it Jess? Is this a Jess thing?”
“Are you kidding me? That kid’s not spending money at Walmart. He’d rather die than line those guys’ pockets. Have you seen his Substack?”
“Jess has a Substack?”
“Something to do with writing and publicity. He pretends it’s such a big burden, but I think he’s having fun with it. Lots of long, angry essays about the modern American hellscape with lots of references to political philosophers I’ve never heard of. I understand about half of it.”
“Aw, that’s nice.”
“It’s called The Substack. You know, like The Subsect. That was his first book.”
“That’s fun!”
“Don’t tell him that.”
“That’s, um, edgy. That really sticks it to the man.”
“Much better.”
“Should Rory have a Substack?”
“Probably. But I think we’re losing focus here.”
“Right!” Lorelai turns again to the thing on the counter. She sneers to the very depths of her soul. “The Keurig.”
They silently watch it, wary, as if it might attack at any moment. Lorelai racks her brain for anyone who could possibly have it out for them this badly, or misunderstand them this much.
“I think I know who could have done this,” she says at last, with what she likes to think is a Broadchurch sort of gravity.
***
“Yes, it was from me.”
“But Mother,” Lorelai says, “why?”
Luke stares in horror as Emily’s voice pours out of the phone speaker.
“It’s a gift, Lorelai. Must I have an occasion now to send a gift to my daughter and son-in-law?”
“No,” Lorelai says, striving for patience. “It’s very nice of you, Mom. But, uh. Why this gift?”
“We have one at the whaling museum in the breakroom, and it’s the most convenient little thing! You just pop the little K-Cup in, and there you go – an instant cup of coffee! I wouldn’t drink it at home, of course. Absolute swill. But the convenience!”
“Mom,” Lorelai says, abandoning patience. (Hey. She tried.) “This is insane! It’s perverse! I can’t believe you’re endorsing the world’s tackiest cup of coffee. You fired our maid for using Folgers.”
“She had it coming. Any other objections?”
Luke flashes a dramatic bit of miming her way.
Lorelai gestures, What?
Luke does more emphatic hand movements. Something to do with round shapes, and perishing in violent agony.
After a second, Lorelai gets it.
“And the environmental impact!” she adds sternly. “Our planet is dying. The last thing it needs is – is hundreds of thousands of K-Cups filling up landfills and making new garbage islands in the ocean.”
Luke nods, satisfied.
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Emily says, unmoved. “I know you can have an inflated sense of your own importance, Lorelai, but I don’t think you and your coffee habits will be the ones to stop climate change in its tracks.”
“And you ordered it from Walmart? You’ve never stepped into a Walmart in your entire life.”
“I know, I know. But your father and I did cross paths with the Waltons once or twice, and they really weren’t the agents of Satan all those late night show men of yours make them out to be.”
“Oh weren’t they? That’s great! Glad to hear it!”
“You could barely see their horns and forked tails. And you won’t believe the prices!”
“The prices? Are you hurting for money these days? Are you in your big savings era?”
“Of course not. But there’s something about the website. It’s just so blue, and it really wants you to get excited about deals.”
Lorelai feels a pang of affection amidst the madness. Turns out even the formidable Emily Gilmore can be, at times, an overwhelmed senior citizen on the internet.
“Mom,” she says, “thank you for the gift. It’s incredibly sweet of you to think of us. But Luke and I are never going to use a Keurig.”
“Oh, all right, then. I just wanted you to know I was thinking of you.”
“Thanks, Mom.” The pang of affection intensifies. “We’re thinking of you too. We were actually talking about coming out to visit soon.”
“Were you?” The smile in Emily’s voice is audible. “Well, that would be lovely.”
“Hey. We’ll bring the Keurig.”
“Oh, no,” says Emily. “I couldn’t have one in the house.”
Lorelai rolls her eyes at Luke.
“Say,” Emily adds, her voice alight with excitement, “would you be more in favor of a beautiful six-quart programmable slow cooker in White Icing by Drew Barrymore?”
“Mom! Close that website!”
Luke gives her a Hold on a second look.
“But also,” Lorelai says, “sure. If you need to get us something. That sounds nice. I’m always kicking myself that we don’t have more Drew Barrymore around the kitchen.”
Luke has been experimenting in homemade meals for Paul Anka’s adorable four-legged successor Perry Como. The man needs a souped-up kitchen.
“Perfect,” says Emily. “It’s on the way.”
“Hey, Mom, you still have Taylor’s number from when you helped out with the antiquing festival here, right?”
“Right,” Emily answers warily.
“Can you just text him and tell him you’re the one who’s been bringing Walmart into city limits? You, and absolutely not either of us? Great! Love you! Talk soon! Bye!”
Lorelai hangs up before her mother can bedeck their entire kitchen in Drew Barrymore splendor. She sends Emily a heart emoji to make up for the hasty goodbye. She really is trying lately. And she guesses, in her own oft-misguided way, Emily is too.
It’s kinda nice.
Luke wraps an arm around Lorelai’s shoulders. “You know if you keep encouraging interactions there’s a chance Taylor might become your stepdad, right?”
“Please. Taylor’s gay. I think. Or … asexual? I honestly still can’t get a read on that guy. In any case, he and my mother would kill each other.”
“I’m just saying. I can see Taylor really devoting himself to one particular mean, bossy woman.”
“That will never happen,” Lorelai scowls, giving Luke a chastising peck on the lips. “Probably.”
Still, she shudders. Turns out there’s something more repulsive than a Keurig after all.
“Well.” She considers their new nightmare appliance. “Looks like we’re stuck with it.”
“Looks like,” Luke agrees.
Lorelai stares at the infernal machine. It stares back at her. Somewhere, in the deepest recesses in her brain, some wanton, Gollum-y voice cries out, Coffee, coffee, coffee! Convenience, convenience, convenience!
“Should we maybe … try it?” she finds herself asking.
“Wow.” Luke shakes his head ruefully. “After twenty years together, you think you know a person.”
“I was just kidding,” Lorelai retorts with a defensive scoff, and banishes the evil thought from her mind.
“Let’s give it to Liz and TJ,” Luke decides.
“Sounds like a plan. Hey, Luke?”
“Yeah?”
She flutters her lashes. “Coffee, please.”
He gives her a fond smirk. “Coming right up.”
***
“A Keurig?” TJ exclaims. “Are you kidding me? Have you heard how bad these things are for the environment?”
“Wow, Luke,” adds Liz. “This really isn’t like you.”
***
They wind up putting the Keurig in the closet until they can foist it upon Stars Hollow’s next charity fundraiser. Sometimes Perry Como goes into insane barking fits in its direction. The house feels a little haunted.
But still, Luke keeps making the greatest coffee imaginable. And the occasional delicious slow-cooked meal, courtesy of a very shiny Drew Barrymore Crockpot knockoff. If you ask Lorelai, all’s right in the world.