Morningstar Manor

It was October and that meant Tristan was donating to the Susan G. Korman fund again. He always had, figuring it was a worthwhile cause to contribute to, especially in his line of work. He generally bought the girls at work shirts too, and this year he'd gone a step farther, buying up a lot more than usual.

Three boxes of shirts had been delivered, each with a variety of sizes. The first design was simple and he figured they could work for anybody. The second style obviously targeted at guys and the third towards the women. He had to admit, the sayings never got old. He wondered if he should leave them with a note for other tenants to help themselves and support second base or distribute them personally. The debate went on while he prepared for the note method, since everybody had different tastes and such. Pulling out a piece of paper and a marker from Jerry's supply stash he a sign to post on the bulletin board. There were arrows pointing down, directing people to the boxes and the sign read: Show your support and spread the word... Second base needs saving!

Dear Ms Grey,

Re: Accommodation problems.

We are anxious that you start on the agreed date so are doing our best to find a substitute for the apartment that was so disappointing. In the meantime, as agreed, we have asked around amongst our staff members to see if anyone could provide temporary accommodation until a suitable apartment is available.

We have arranged with Mr Fidel Avilar of 7130, Morningstar Manor, that you can room with him for the first week or so. He is one of our conservators and very trustworthy and you may find the Manor interesting from an historical point of view.

I have appended a map showing the location of the Manor, and Mr Avilar's cell phone number. He will collect you from your hotel and help you to move in.

Please get in touch with the office to collect your museum keys. Induction is scheduled for Monday and Tuesday. We are very pleased that you will be coming to work with us.

Yours sincerely,

[illegible squiggle]

Secy. to Director of Ashford Museum.

Dear Del,

Remember you said you were willing to do anything to help? I hope so.

We have a new member of staff commencing on Monday and her accommodation has fallen through. Remember how you said you had a spare bedroom that you didn't use? Honestly we wouldn't ask unless we were desperate.

We've given her your cell phone number and she'll be in touch to tell you where to collect her and her belongings.

We will owe you one.

Yours sincerely,

[illegible squiggle]

Secy. to Director of Ashford Museum.

Anastasia was down in the gym on the tredmill in a pair of retro blue running shorts with white stripes going up the side and a white tank top. There was a look of sad concentration on her face as she ran mile after mile and thought about her husband. What he'd accused her of, how much merit there was to it, and all the accusations that she could have thrown at him, but didn't.
She sighed as she cleared the eight mile mark, breathing heavy and sweating as she finally turned the machine off and sat down, pressing a bottle of cold water to her forehead. She should think about something good, like what she wanted to do with her new studio.

Niles lay on his back under Piglet in the garage, changing the oil. His white t-shirt had grease splatters all over it and his hands were black, but he didn't care. He liked taking care of his girl. She was distracting in a good way and loved him unconditionally as long as he took care of her. All women should be so simple. Then again, if they were that simple he'd never hold interest. 
He sighed, wishing he were as simple as his car too.

Isabella sat in the Mocha in a cream colored sweaterdress, her cell phone in front of her and a blank expression on her face. She'd gotten a call from her father of all people. She hadn't talked to him in over seven years and he'd call to tell her that her mother was in the hospital with some sort of kidney infection. She marveled at how he still sounded the same. It was a voice she hadn't heard in several years, but she could still pick out of a crowd anywhere. She missed him. She worried about her mother. Pinching the area between her eyes, she took a sip of coffee and pondered what she should do.

Smith sat on a bench in the conservatory in a grey t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans, hiding out in there mostly because he figured it was the last place anyone would look for him. His cell phone was opened and he'd just finished listening to Laura's voicemail for the fifth time.
She'd called him sweetie. She'd sounded understanding. Fuck, he hated doing this to her. To them.
With a weary sigh, he decided to text her back: Busy all weekend.

Bea was out in the garden with Pippa, huddled into a long, grey, grandpa-looking fuzzy cardigan. It was almost longer than the black slipdress that she'd been running around in all day. She'd been in a creative frenzy, working on fixing the final draft of her second comic. She'd only been reminded to come up for air when Pippa had let out a yowl that she'd come to understand as "take me the fuck outside before I shit on one of your shoes." Bea loved her shoes, so she didn't fuck around with that.

Declan was up by the pool again in his white linen shirt and olive green swim trunks, mostly because it was emptier this time of year and it let him get out of his apartment and still smoke. He had a lot to think on, so he did, letting the curls of smoke waft up toward the ceiling.

Olivia had been wandering the halls. She walked when she was upset, and she was definately upset now. Had been since Monday. The Manor was big enough for her to suitably work out all her neurosis without freezing her ass off, which she would definately do outside. She huddled into herself, pulling the sleeves of her pale green sweater into her palms and crossed her arms over her chest as she walked.

Everything had gone as planned - so far. The trip to the airport had been quick and easy, the place wasn't too busy and because they had a toddler they had been shown into a nice waiting room with plenty of toys. Now they were embarking for the first leg of their flight and Nia was still in good humour if a little heavy eyed.

Deacon had the carry on luggage while Charlie wrangled the munchkin. He had high hopes that nobody would get rowdy.