Sarah Gilmore is everything Richard and Emily Gilmore ever wanted in a daughter. She is as addicted to coffee as her big sister Lorelai, and maybe a little bit smarter than her Niece Rory. She is the apple of her parents' eye. Will that change when...
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Sarah Gilmore sits on the floor of the studio her mother had gifted her. A small, open room full of natural light. Her brunette curls are clipped half up, out of her face, as she finally finds inspiration to paint. It suddenly hit her in the night like a tonne of bricks. And when inspiration strikes, who is she to deny it. She has been painting since 4 a.m., her imagination running wild– allowing the paintbrush to do its thing. She is so engrossed in her work that she doesn't hear the studio door open.
"How long have you been up here?" Emily asks, looking around at all of the fresh- drying paintings strewn across the wooden floor. "Wow, Sarah."
"What time is it?" Sarah asks, not taking her eyes off the canvas in front of her.
"Eleven-thirty," Emily says, placing a glass of fresh lemonade next to her daughter. "I thought you might be thirsty."
"Thank you," Sarah smiles, putting down her brush and taking a sip. The cool drink hits her throat, and she gasps, not realising how thirsty she was. Or hungry, for that matter. "I've been up here for about seven hours, maybe longer," She tells the older woman who is hovering over her.
"I might take a break, I am starving," she says.
"I'll get Maria to whip you up some food," Emily says. "Do you think you'll be painting all day?" she asks, and Sarah cranes her neck, stretching.
"I don't think so– I didn't realise how uncomfortable I was, sitting on the floor. Can you help me?"
Emily smiles, wandering back over to her daughter and taking her hands. "Up we get," she heaves as she pulls the small but heavy woman to her feet. "My lord," Emily says, wiping her brow for dramatic effect. "How do you walk around with ease? That belly of yours is so heavy."
"I don't need reminding of that," Sarah laughs, stretching her back out and groaning. "Remind me to never sit on the floor for seven hours ever again."
"You are a mad woman," Emily says as they walk down the stairs together. "Go and sit down, I will get your food sorted. Would you like tea as well?"
"Yes please mama," Sarah smiles, wandering over to the sofa where her father is reading his newspaper.
