Morningstar Manor

On weekends, the Mocha was always packed with people having a late breakfast all through the morning. The crowd today included:

• Andras, who was talking via Skype with his brother in London, for whom it was already between lunch- and teatime.
• Sibyl and Urquhart, who were sharing a table and a plate of cookies, and discussing a shared problem: - what you could possibly give Ruth for Christmas that she'd really enjoy.
• Chandika and Rahul, with Hanu the hound in tow, who were spoiling themselves with a sweet breakfast made by somebody else, as Bethan was working an early shift at the clinic.
• Cindy, who sat a few tables further on, reading a magazine in Greek and keeping an eye on Axminster and Hanu. At the moment, they were just laying in a heap under her table, but she knew those guys, and they could get boisterous.
• Ricky, usually quite as boisterous, was at the moment curled up in the corner of a sofa being morose into his phone. "No, mom, you really can't do that to me," he complained. "We are having this big concert on the -- what you mean, they can play without me just as well? Do you know what the industry is like? Mom??"

• Urquhart was doing the laundry, but one of the washing machines had gone weird on him. He could try and fix it on his own, but it would be much more interesting to find himself some handyman or maid and that way meet more of the staff. So he went up to the first floor to stick his head into the staff corridor and mildly bleat for help.
• Cindy was in the lobby, waiting for Andras to return with the dog. She was reading a cooking magazine, occasionally looking up from it to still not see the two loping shapes come in through the front door.
• Ricky was in the conservatory, wondering whether some seedlings of his mum's illicit crop might be grown here, hidden beneath and behind the regular plants.
• Chandika was sitting in the Mocha, having a Mocha mocha with whipped cream, syrup and sprinkles. She was texting on her phone, and giggling as she was doing so.
• Andras was outside, just around the corner, taking pictures of Axminster who was busy meeting a small pink female poodle.
• Sibyl was in the garden, walking around and looking up at the sky, while obviously deep in thought.

On a Saturday night, the Lamb usually did brisk business, with many of the usual staff on duty at once, and perhaps a few extra hands here and there. Drink was flowing, food flying from the kitchen, and the noise level of talk and laughter and music was like a warm wall when you came walking in through the front door, out of the crisp early autumn evening air.

Among the many patrons, there were:

• Andras Toth, at the bar with a pint of cider and a basket of fries, watching people and chatting briefly to anybody he knew.
• Cindy Papadopoulos, in a booth in an out-of-the-way corner, drinking a nice red wine and reading a book that she was glaring at quite angrily. She didn't have her wheelchair, just crutches. This had been a good day, and she'd decided to dare going down the pub without wheels.
• Ricky Sands, with a pint of Guiness, monopolising the jukebox even though hardly anybody paid much attention to the music.
• Chandika Malhortra, at a little table in the middle of the bustle, drinking malibu lemonades with a friend, resting high-heeled feet after an afternoon's and early evening's shopping.
• Urquhart, with a half-empty glass of really good single malt (and there had, of course, only ever been the customary finger's breadth), throwing darts at the dartboard near the door. He wasn't playing against anybody, but kept score in his head.
• Sibyl Gray, with a pint of shandy, leaning against a pillar and wondering what her room-mate's 'boyfriend' (if you could apply that word to a well-weathered man in his mid-fifties) was up to, now in particularly, and ultimately as well.

It was a sunny Saturday morning in the City, and around eleven, you found several of the Manor population in the garden, with beverages from the Mocha, enjoying one of the last sunny mornings this summer might afford them. Among them were:

• Maude Temminck, who was sitting on a bench with a small latte, watching her two-year-old granddaughter Morgan carefully stack pebbles nearby. Occasionally, she made a note in a little Moleskine notebook she took from her purse every time a thought struck her.
• Chandika Malhotra, who was talking on the phone to a friend in an excited mix of Hindi and English while walking up and down with a large mocha with all the extras, cream and sprinkles. It was her day off, Rahul was with his dad, Bethan was working, and Chandika felt like being all young and irresponsible again for one day, so she'd called Anjali, and they were planning and afternoon and evening of spending money and causing very mild outrage. Hanu had lost himself somewhere in the undergrowth, but would of course come when whistled for, so she wasn't worried.
• Cindy Papadopoulos was sitting and drinking straight coffee in her wheelchair by the entrance to the conservatory because WLAN signal strength tended to be especially good around there; she was going through her email on her laptop and throwing a ball for Axminster every time he came bouncing up with it, which however hadn't happened for a few minutes now. Cindy had seen Hanu and his missus earlier, so guessed that the dogs were probably chasing mucklas or wrackspurts in the undergrowth together.
• Sibyl Grey was in the maze, with a chai latte, and carefully explored the rather awe-inspiring passages. This wasn't her first time in here, but it was different each time, somehow. She'd just met two stray greyhounds, one smaller and brindled, one larger and a lovely silvery grey, who were very friendly, so she'd put her cup on a bench and was bending down to pat them both as the looked up at her and lashed their whip-like tails.

Kris had been passing the florists and had been drawn in by the wonderful heady scent. Now he was crossing the Square with his purchases - a bunch of brilliant orange tiger lilies and a cactus of hilariously suggestive shape - and was debating what to drop of where. Celeste seemed like a good sport but would she appreciate a wang shaped cactus? Demitri on the other hand would probably find it as funny as he did.

Sometimes being sophisticated was such hard work that Kris gave it a miss.

###

Ylva was in Riverwalk Park with her lunch and a book. She was possibly a little too close to the Manor for comfort but the park was full of blondes today, she'd blend in.

She crossed long tanned legs, settled her sunglasses more firmly on her nose and turned a page.

###

The roof garden was open again, if a little sparse of plants, and Nick was on his knees unpacking the crate that had been left for the Manor by the Sexton family. At least this time there had been family. So often, he'd heard, they had carefully packed the lost life away into boxes and crates, had sent the furniture to auction for charity and had packed everything away. Rooms and rooms full of memories and nobody to appreciate them.

But this was another matter, he thought, as he uncovered the piece of relief sculpture and the discreet little plaque he was supposed to mount near it.

###

Allan lay flat on his back in the garden, with his eyes closed and his arms spread out. The un shone down and he was warm and drowsy and full of lunch and thinking hard about his latest bronze. It was back and he was halfway through finishing it and he was worried that Deacon and Charlie wouldn't like it. It hadn't turned out the way he'd intended at all.

But he'd worry about that later. For now he was warm - and might go to sleep.

It was a wonderful sunny afternoon, and the Square was full of people. Among them:

• Urquhart, who was sitting by his red door with a bottle of beer, watching football on a little portable TV set.
• Cindy, who was wheeling herself across the entire Square, followed by Axminster, who was slouching along lazily.
• Ricky, who was sitting on the steps of the angel statue and smoking a cigarette. Or something.
• Chandika, who was standing at the window of the new vintage clothes shop, looking eagerly at everything.
• Andras, who was sitting in the Auberge, drinking an iced coffee and watching football on his iPad.
• Sibyl, who was taking a wheelbarrow full of what looked like old horse-blankets from the disreputable antiques shop towards the Manor.

On Saturday afternoon, Vine Square was busy as usual. Many people were about, among them:

• Sibyl, who was browsing the basket of bits, scraps and ends in front of the Indian shop; they always had interesting little bits that would come in useful at some stage
• Andras, who was talking to somebody on the phone, throwing around all sort of technical terms while lounging on the steps of the angel statue
• Chandika, who was trying to keep Hanu under control on his leash while at the same time trying to cheer up little Rahul by promising him ice cream; she couldn't see any, though, and started looking decidedly harried
• Ricky, who was cheerfully bopping along while making a meandering diagonal across the entire square; he was wearing big earphones labelled 'Bose' that held back his fluffy blond curls
• Cindy, who was sitting in front of the building that was up for renovation next, just looking at it
• Urquhart, who was sitting outside the Auberge watching people being busy while sipping a triple espresso.

[[OOC: Say in your tag whom you want! Open all weekend.]]

Leo had actually been into the office on a Sunday, not unheard of but not a regular occurrence, because Carnahan had called him to say that some papers from Pangolin had been misdirected to his office and that he had, shamefully, forgotten to mention it. He had offered Leo Sunday evening dinner in recompense and Leo had accepted cheerfully, then had put the phone down and cursed and got down there sharpish. Now he was back, envelope in pocket, considering options and ready for tea - possibly iced because it was a warm day.

#

Vincenzo greeted Lawyer Beck on his way through the lobby then settled back in his seat and eased his collar. It was hot. He might have to fetch the one of the fans from the security suite. They didn't need ALL of them in there.

#

Ruth had finished her laundry and paused to look in the mail room. She felt - restless - and couldn't work out why.

On impulse she spoke to the young man at the security desk and he smiled and agreed to keep her small package of laundry, neatly folded inside a pillow case, in his cupboard until she came back for it, and she hitched her purse under her arm and went for a walk. Maybe to the park - or the Square.

Though she would probably end up at the museum.

#

The lack of the pool house was being felt quite keenly by some of the residents so Charlie had obtained an extra large and extra tough paddling pool and obtained permission to put it on a sunny patch of ground not far from the gazebo. Overnight he and Nick and Phil had put it up and filled it and now the sun was busy warming it.

He sat on the grass laughing as Nia, in a very frilly swimsuit, dipped her hands in and squealed and ran about shaking them and going "brrrrrrrrrrr". The way the temperature was rising it would soon be milk warm and he might even have a paddle himself.

It was an absolutely beautiful day, and the two little groups - one comprising Bethan, Chandika, Rahul and Hanu, and the other just Sasha and little Morgan had found themselves in the garden. Chandika had prepared a snack tea for her little make-shift family, and Sasha had a book and a flask of iced tea for herself and sippy cup of juice for Morgan.

When the women had seen each other, Sasha had offered a bright wave to the little group, beckoning them over to the blanket she had set out in a patch of sun.

There were several people around Vine Square going about their business this fine Saturday morning. Nobody would have thought there had been a blizzard only a week ago!

	Andras was wheeling his bike over the Square, talking into his phone as he went. "No, she won't want any fucking promotional items, you fucking moron," he growled. "She's a fucking pro and wants to use stuff she fucking knows. Where the fuck did you get my fucking phone number anyway, you fucking dick, and on a fucking Saturday morning!" He glared at his phone as he disconnected the annoying call. He'd need some coffee now!
	Charlotte was leaving the Auberge just at that moment, having paid up, carrying three dainty shopping bags that screamed of luxury, and looking airily around her. Had the air just turned a shade bluer?
	Cindy was visiting her building site, where the plasterers were putting in an extra shift so everybody could get on with things on Monday. Of course, they were being paid for it, but she still thought it great that they'd give up their Saturday instead of keeping everybody back another day. So she was bringing them several large bags full of Chinese food from those little folding boxes, fresh from a restaurant three blocks down, as a surprise lunch.
	Maude was hesitating in front of the gallery windows. She had had a call from a friend in California, who knew a friend who had a question. Pity Andy wasn't working here any more. So, Maude was pretending to look at the things in the windows while trying to determine who was there.
	Chandika was rather exhausted and made a beeline for the Auberge as well. She'd done lots and lots of Easter shopping. With a Catholic flat-mate, there was an excuse to get a good breakfast for when Bethan came from church, nice dinner, and lots of seasonal candy. You were never too old for hot chocolate with tiny yellow peeps in! But you had to find all the stuff somewhere.
	Ricky was sitting on the base of the bronze angel, smoking a roll-up. It was not discernible as anything but an ordinary roll up, but you could never tell what might be in one of Ricky's roll-ups. He wasn't quite completely happy. Something had gone wrong lately, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
	Sibyl had been browsing the disreputable antiques shop that was still sprawling through several old garages, workshops and commercial storage space in an alley off Vine Square. She was proudly carrying three late 19th century dining chair with their upholstery in an unspeakably vile state. But re-upholstering a chair was one of Sibyl's most familiar tasks; she'd find some nice fabric, pamper the wood a little, and then make them all pretty again. The substance of the chairs was completely sound, so she proudly lugged the apparent ruins across the Square.
	Urquhart was lounging on what was, temporarily, his own doorstep, sipped a coffee he'd fetched from the Auberge, and watched people. By now, he knew where he was going with this contract. Some rumours about the Manors were rather weird, though. Some were quite silly. A few were laugh-out-loud preposterous. One or two were actually worrisome.

[[OOC: Open all weekend and Monday! Say in your tag whom you want!]]

"Bura na mano Holi hai!" That was Rahul, first thing in the morning, greeting Bethan with a mischievous smile and a pinch of bright pink powder right on the top of her head. He knew he wasn't to make a mess in the apartment, but no-one else was going to colour Bethan before he did! She blinked at him for a moment, and then remembered why she'd taken the day off - it was Holi, and she'd promised Rahul (and Chandika) that she would spend it with them.

"Happy Holi to you too, brat," she told him affectionately, planning to get her own back later. Let's see how he liked being bright yellow. . .

Into the Mocha they went and Kris looked around, seeing a few of the gorgeous faces and bodies he had hoped to see, and he cleared his throat and tapped on a table to attract their attention.

"Um - ladies, gentlemen," he said, "we are in - frankly - awful trouble and are hoping some of you might be kind enough to help us out. The fact is - we have a designer and a complete collection of clothing but the photographer and all the models are stuck in Switzerland. So - would you be prepared to wear Lewis's clothes and have photos taken? What do you say?"

He looked round hopefully. "Anyone?"

The Mocha was, as usual for a Saturday early morning, full of people either grabbing something caffeine-laden to-go on their way through, or lounging watching the harried folk.

Bethan was sitting at a table near the windows, half-reading her latest copy of Contemporary Pediatrics, and drinking a cup of karma chai. There was a muffin sitting on a plate next to her cup, white chocolate and cranberry, and she was trying to ignore it's siren call.

Cam had bagged himself a chair in a corner from which he could watch people come and go over the top of his black coffee, which he held before his nose, enjoying the armoa almost more than the taste. Not that is wasn't good - for all her attitude, Joy certainly made a good cup of coffee.

Jos and Toby were sharing a cafetiere and bickering good-naturedly over whose DS had flat batteries and whose was fully charged - they could never seem to convince anyone not to get them matching things - and here was the reason! How were they to know which belonged to which of them? The idea of stickers was obviously foreign to them.

Sasha was sitting on a coach, Morgan's car seat next to her. The baby was napping after a tiring shopping trip, and Sasha was taking the time to kick back and relax with hot chocolate before heading back up to the apartment.

Into the manor came five figures, three human and two canine. Te humans were all wrapped up warmly against the cold and damp, and the two large dogs were prancing enthusiastically. It had been a wonderful walk, but now it was time for hot drinks at the Mocha for all! Perhaps even for the dogs, if Rahul got his way, as he usually did where the two hounds were involved.

Charlie dropped Nia off at his usual time, unleashing her into the middle of the gaggle of children with a request to be good, and since Penny was hastily making a phone call he stayed to help with any other early arrivals.

He was pleased to see the day care going so well, although Penny had mentioned one thing that made him a little apprehensive. But he was sure it would work out.

###

And at the end of the day he was back again and poor Penny was even more frazzled, so he waited to help again.

Really it was the least he could do.

Weekend!!

Chandika had not got a Saturday or Sunday shift this weekend, and she had got off work, with one thing or another, at half past five this Friday, bought a really, really nice tea on staff discount, and then hurried home, to her kid and the dogs and her dear friend, and a real weekend!

At the daycare place, Rahul pleaded with her to be allowed to stay until his little buddy's mom came to get him as she was working late on something terribly important to do with 'foreclosures', which the tiny little redheaded guy pronounced so naturally, it gave Chandika a shudder. She agreed, asked the woman in charge to call her when Rahul's friend was picked up, and took the elevator home.

Ahhh, home!

As Rahul wasn't there, she could perhaps try the special treat she had -- not just the tea. Flora, one of the massage therapists, had given her an almost-empty bottle of her best oil, sandalwood and neroli, to try on Bethan -- really invigourating, Flora had said, and grinned. Chandika was always telling how important and fulfilling but stressful Bethan's job was, so of course: - take a nice hot shower, use the oil to massage kinks out, and then start into a weekend that would be as fun as it was relaxing...

The garden had new facilities tucked away in a corner near the gazebo. It also had a table with a bright parasol shading cool boxes of drinks and large number of small children scampering about followed by their parents.

In fact there were two inflatables, one smaller and more toddler friendly than the other, because it only seemed fair to let the grownups have fun as well.

{ooc: sorta party post. It's Nia's birthday party but that isn't generally known. What IS obvious is that anyone who wants a bounce can have one! Ladies - no stilettos, 'kay?}

Saturday at 11 am, and the Mocha was really busy. Among them were:

• Andras, who had visitors. One of them was his brother Lajos, in the City again for lawyerly business, even though he no longer kept a flat here; the other was a bloke he brought along to sleep on the sofa, some researcher from Cambridge whose cousin apparently was Ilona's best and most high-strung graphics designer, here to briefly consult something arcane that was kept at Rutherford. Andras had no hope of even understanding what it was, except that it was Historical; so the bloke was most likely a historian, right? Funnily, though, he was from the same area of Old Blighty originally where Charlie had that farm Andras visited once; so there was something to talk about, at least.
• Charlotte James, who had just been to an early morning visit to the new spa, and was discussing the relative merits of that versus the Michael's Brothers spa with Maude Temminck (whose character had much improved, Charlotte thought, since she was widowed, dried out, and had a grandkid) while her son Manny was sitting peacefully by, as if the chatter of women was no more meaningful than the waves of the ocean, and just as calming. On his lap, little Morgan Temminck was fast asleep. Theoretically, he was waiting for his wife, but Charlotte got the impression that he was content to just sit there.
• Cindy was sitting a few tables on (having said hello to Charlotte and her lot, but still uneasy about the Temmincks, so she hadn't joined them), talking to the Indian woman, Chandika, and her adorable kid whose dog Hanu was most likely the illegitimate son of Axminster, but nobody minded any more, not even the owner of the mother, because Hanu was such a great dog, and while not pedigree, still an indubitable lurcher. They were talking about spas as well -- in particular, the one where Chandika worked. Cindy was very cautiously trying to work out whether it would be all right for her to go there, and Chandika was doing her best to gently reassure her that of course it was. The dogs were both under the table in classic Axminster pose, fast asleep.
  
• Ricky had his earbuds in, surfing MySpace on his netbook; he was sharing his table with some tall stranger with lanky hair and a large nose who was also working away at his notebook -- a rather larger and posher one. They were both drinking chai latte, and any attentive observer might have realised that they were each drinking distractedly from both cups and totally not noticing. Unless one of them had the swine flu, it probably didn't matter.
• By the door to the conservatory, two ghosts were lurking, mostly unseen by the rest of the Mocha. "Just listen to them!" Marek was saying. "They're totally superficial! All they ever talk about are spas." Manny shrugged. "I've spent my life talking about business; spas are a nice break. And I don't like women for their conversation, you know. More for their curves." Marek laughed.

[[OOC: Brief visit of Lajos Toth and Edgar Cobham to justify the icon and make sure that all twelve are really there!]]

It was Saturday morning, and around the ground floor and basement, people were busy:

• Chandika was looking around the place that was going to be the creche, admiring the colours and furniture, trailing the smell of coffee, from the cappuccino in her hand;
• Ricky was in the conservatory, drinking tea, but still smelling slightly of last night's hemp smoke;
• Manny was in the lobby, home from his morning run with a bright, sportsy push-pram, still hopping as he waited by the elevators, a faint smell of used diapers coming from the pram if you bent over little Morgan, who was fast asleep in there;
• Charlotte was just entering by the grand doors, having been shopping already, the scent of mixed perfume testers coming from the small but exquisite Michaels Brothers bag dangling from her hand;
• Cindy was in the first elevator that stopped and opened, with her dog and in a marathon-class racing wheelchair, leaving a scent of citrus shampoo as she cheerfully left for her morning run;
• Marek was in the ballroom, going through classical exercises at furious speed, smelling of nothing but the dust motes moving through him, undisturbed;
• and Ashley was in the library, looking at art books and loving the scent of old books in the morning.

If you wore your work uniform out of work, you were a certifiably sad case. So Chandika, of course, would never do such a thing.

Instead, her joy in her awesome new job was expressed by sitting about in the Mocha and reading a professional magazine about holistic wellness therapies. In a bit, she'd have to go and fetch Rahul from his school, but right now, she enjoyed the time to herself, and soaked up the jargon from the magazine.