Morningstar Manor

He finally had a night off and had ordered far too much Chinese food, so thought it worth taking the chance on Eris being in to see if she would like to share it.

So he carried the bag up to her door, still in his museumy tweeds, and knocked.

Del was working tonight and, as he had warned Isabella, it had been tight getting from the museum to home, changing, and then back out to the restaurant where he was supposed to meet his client.

As it turned out, she had been late. She was a total workaholic and had been on the phone almost all the way through their meal and periodically ever since. Del wondered what on earth she needed an escort for but she was paying so he waited patiently for her and danced when required, fetched drinks, smiled as she told him about her day and finally, at this moment, watched her walk away to the ladies room.

As she reached the door she grabbed for her phone again and he sighed. It looked like he'd be waiting a while.

Del checked his watch and made his way to the entrance lobby of the museum. The sparse weekday crowd was beginning to thin now and so he was sure he would spot Ms Gonzalez when she entered.

Del was going to be at the museum every afternoon this week, so got up early to see if he could pick up his assignments for De Rossi.

Entering the outer office he gave Daphne a bright smile and placed a little white cardboard box tied with gold string on the desk in front of her.

"Rum truffles," he said. "I'd value your opinion. Too much rum, not enough truffle. I can't decide."

Jazz had found a package in her mailbox today: a sturdy, mailing envelope that was thick and vaguely squishy. It was held closed with liberal amounts of packing tape. The return address and customs stamp declared to be from Cleo.

Intrigued she carried it with her to the Mocha where she purchased her usual diabetes inducing cup of sugar she dared to call coffee and settled in one of the booths. It took a few moments, but she eventually tore her way into the envelope and found a book with a small note tucked inside the cover.

A gift to help you recover your sense of humour, along with a sense of self-preservation. XOXO Cleo.

Smirking, Jazz turned the book over and read the blurb on the back before she shifted to rest her back against the wall and stretched her long legs out along the bench seat. She held the book open with one hand (inadvertently flashing other patrons with the vaguely macabre cover) turning to the first page and picked up her coffee to sip with the other.

A gift it might have been, but Jazz also suspected it was a gentle dig at her current choice in men.

Isabella hadn't slept at all last night. She knew she had to make the trip back to New York today, and she knew Micah had to be back to work. She knew that if she called him he would do whatever he could to go with her again, but she didn't want to do that to him. Instead, she thought of Del. Del was her friend and he was steady and dependable. She knew he'd never say a word if she cried on him like an idiot. She picked up her phone and dialed.

Hi Del. It's Isabella. I guess this will teach you to be such a nice guy if the roomate thing hasn't already done so, because I'd like to take you up on the offer you made the other day. I know it's horribly short notice, but do you think you could ride with me to New York? It's not a huge deal if you can't. I understand entirely. Just let me know, okay? Thanks. Bye.

A coffee shop! They had a coffee shop right here in the building. And history. Sibyl walked into the lobby, and right into layers and layers of local history.

She fell in love instantly.

Stunned, she looked around, and didn't find anybody whom the description of Del Avilar fit; then she looked at the big clock and realised she was ten minutes early.

Perfect for getting to know the coffee shop!

Only two minutes later, she was seated at a table near the door with a large latte, watching the people of her new temporary home with great curiosity.

It was Saturday, and finally time to call the number Sibyl had been given by the museum.

Everything else had fallen through, and she was not ready to take an illegal sublet in one of the older run-down Rutherford dorms.

So she dialled the number, and waited.

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.

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.

These handmade dark chocolate shells filled with strawberry and double cream mousse and topped with flecks of edible gold leaf, plus a note:

Hey Guapa,

Heard you were poorly so I thought I'd send these little melt in the mouth morsels and assure you that I haven't forgotten about my invitation.

Let me know when you feel up to a trip?

Del

He had got home close to dawn so had slept late this morning, Then he had showered and messed around in the kitchen for a while and had only emerged at 3pm to collect his mail and have some life-giving coffee.

Lounging on one of the couches he sipped his espresso and helped himself to one of the dark coffee truffles he had made and read his mail.

A letter from mother, one from Junia, one from an old friend now working at the V&A and finally, he smiled, a letter from the Ashford.

... The Ashford Museum's winter exhibition, The Rocks Remain, will run from Saturday 17th October, 2009 to Sunday 31st January, 2010. There will be a private viewing for sponsors and Friends of the Museum on Friday 16th October, commencing at 7pm. Please be at the museum at 5.30 prompt for briefing. Black tie essential. A list of approved suppliers is appended should you need to hire. Also enclosed are the information sheets associated with the exhibits. Please ensure that you are completely familiar with all the details ...

Del grunted with approval and leafed through them until he found one that interested him and took another choclate then began to read.

[ooc: the link goes to quite a substantial document that I got overenthusiastic about. There are pictures! I don't really expect anyone to plough through it but basically it's about greed and being cursed.]

Technically they shouldn't have put it in the pool, but the Manor could afford to replace it if necessary and it had to be admitted that a genuine floating pirate ship was a lot more fun than one on the grass.

Nick tied it off securely at one side of the pool so the prow was in the shallow end and the stern over deep water for jumping in, and wondered who would be the first to find it. There were plenty of posters up, that was for sure.

{Standard party post - get your pups' scantiest swimmers on and come and say 'Aaaaar'}

Isabella sat in her office wearing a black and white dress with a pair of strappy black stiletto sandals, staring out the window and daydreaming. She hadn't gotten to go on her vacation this week, Max'd had something come up, and she was feeling a little wistful and more than a little tired.
She also felt like doing jack shit with the rest of her day.

First thing in the morning, Charlie paused on his way to open the gallery and looked at the sky. There was something in the air - just a little chill - that warned him to make the most of the good weather. Then he walked on, resolving to get the winter woollies out of storage that very weekend.

#

Around eleven Andy crossed the Square with her shopping list, Erik's suit, neatly bagged, over her arm and she too paused. But she was smiling as she watched a pigeon land on the head of the bronze angel. "Go on," she said. "Poop. You know you want to."

#

At noon Nick was at the other end of the Square, just coming out of a tatty little plumbing supplies shop that was nevertheless the only place within walking distance that stock a particular type of European metric dimension washer. Trendy French style bathrooms might look chic but they were a bugger to repair.

#

Lunchtime at the Auberge was part of the routine for Leo on working days and he sat and sipped his coffee while he waited for Paula to bring his salad. He was at a table outside, feeling he might as well make the most of what remained of the summer.

#

"May I?" Fin had asked as the tweedy Englishman had left the table and had got both somewhere to sit and that days local paper. He read it with as much relish as he ate his red onion quiche.

#

Vincenzo waited near the dance studio trying not to feel self concious about the bunch of pink rosebuds he was carrying. He glanced at his watch, then along the road hoping to see Emily but no, he was still a bit early.

#

Amarie romped through the Square on her way home from work. She had new shoes and had picked up pizza for dinner and all was right with the world, yeah, man. She paused at the lights, thumb busy as she sent a text to a friend, but took a moment to wonder at the scraps of mildewed ribbon tied to the upright by the crossing.

#

Del waited near the entrance of the Flamingo Lounge. He was carefully dressed, had a pale yellow rosebud in his lapel and was carrying a London Times. Sometimes customers liked a little intrigue and there was no way he'd say they couldn't have it.

They were late.

#

Jimmy had a bone to pick but the guy had fled. Much good it would do him. He OWED Max and Jimmy would collect. He'd give him one more chance and if he didn't pay up then Jimmy was happy to take payment in body parts.

Meanwhile he ambled along the sidewalk, killing time until he had to get to work.

#

Close to midnight and a horrible shriek disturbed the peace in the alley at the back of the gallery. Two bodies tumbled on the filthy paving, kicking and gouging, spitting curses, until one broke free and fled leaving quantities of ginger fur and a very pleased Palug. He rubbed a paw over a bloodied ear licked it and grinned. Just because he was off his usual patch didn't mean he wasn't still top cat.

Mrs Greenwich had been very attentive - at first - but in the past twenty minutes had been alternately over affectionate and distant. Del was having to pretend quite hard that he didn't know what and that his boss wasn't across the room with Mr Greenwich.

"Want to dance?" he said in the end. It was mainly ballroom stuff but he could cope with that as long as she didn't expect Fred Astaire. As it turned out, she knew less than he did, so he concentrated on making her look good.

He could do that, no problem.

Del was up early for once, bright eyed and bushy-tailed and amusing himself with the crossword in the local paper. He took a sip of coffee, gave Joy a blinding smile as she voluntarily refilled it and tried his best to ignore the amused look of the man two tables along.

Leo Beck scribbled on his feint ruled paper, half an eye on the time and half the other one on the man sitting near young Mr Avilar. For some reason he made him feel slightly edgy.

Palug hid in a dark corner behind a potted plant and growled softly - the sing-song snarl of a cat that's very very scared and trying not to show it. At no time did he take his eyes of the man and every time he moved the growl grew a little louder.

Fin Welch had started off in the Mocha but someone had brushed past him and he had started feeling the first gasping breathlessness of a full blown panic attack. Now he sat in the conservatory close to an open doorway and tried to get his breathing back under control.

Mr Vision sat with his coffee and his cigar, perfectly well aware of what was going on around him and thoroughly enjoying it.

Del was finding his work both easy and fairly enjoyable. Being paid to do what he would probably have been doing anyway was cool and all the other perks were just gravy. Last night had been fun and he had got home around 3 am. Tonight he was fairly certain he was free but there was no guarantee that Eris would be available, so an idea of the schedule for the next few days would be handy.

Plus it was always nice to talk to Isabella.

"Hi, Daphne," he said to the secretary. "Is our lady boss in?"

Yes the gossip was flowing this morning. Especially in the Mocha.

Eris had overheard Joy on the phone while she'd been at the counter getting her coffee. She'd stared at Joy for a moment then burst out laughing as she took her cup and headed for a couch.

***

Demitri did his best to ignore the gossip, because really he didn't care who was screwing who. So he tuned out Joy's babbling and just got his coffee and muffin and found a table.

***

Jack, of course, had to listen to the whole story when he came for his morning fix. Joy wanted reassurance that he'd never do a think like that - to which Jack obligingly told her of course not before getting his coffee and going to sit with Demitri.

Emma had been down in the lobby on time, dressed to impress in a micro mini skirt, decorated all over with black sequins and about two inches of fringing that meant it looked decent if she stood still. With that was a nice spaghetti strapped vest top in silver and black, and an overshirt of sheer black fabric shot through with silver, that was knotted at her waist, the tails dangling to just below the low riding waist (or should that be hip?) band of the skirt. Heels and her hair up made her look older, as well as taller, and her make up was bold but not over done. Now all she needed was Amarie, and a taxi!

"Whoa don't you look nice!" Amarie said. She did her best to ignore Frank's speculative gaze, knowing that her jeans and hoodie looked perfectly decent. "So you're going on somewhere after the movie? Cool! Come on, let's hurry. I don't want to miss the previews."

She grabbed Emma by the arm and hustled her towards the door hissing, "Gonna change in the cab. Frank would've told Vinnie."

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