Morningstar Manor

Ben had felt pretty awful all day Monday and had spent his time in the stores rather than the shop. It was strange how, after an episode like that, he felt so exhausted, but he had been warned to expect really bad days.

Today he felt better, and just as well because Kelsey had a dental appointment. He sat at the desk with a cup of tea and read "The Line of Beauty" with a critical frown.

They were doing a roaring trade in horror - Ben had bought in a mass of low priced paperbacks and was selling them 3 for 2. Although no particular fan of Hallowe'en himself, not since his age arrived in double figures, he was right behind getting fans in and had decorated the shop accordingly.

The door opened, and instead of the usual bell there rang out the manic cackle of a witch.

Ben winced. "Hello - mind the plastic spiders."

The weather as cooling off quickly and many of the Manor tenants were stopping in the Mocha in the evenings for coffee not only for the ritual of it but for the warmth as well. Tonight for instance it seemed rather busy.

JJ was flipping through a magazine Deacon had let him borrow.

Jack was looking through some proofs of his latest batch of head shots.

Gabe was preparing the spa's next supply order and had decided that doing it in the Mocha - with coffee - was far better than doing it in the spa itself.

Max - dressed for once in jeans and a form fitting t-shirt instead of a suit - sat in one of the over stuffed chairs with an iPad in his lap as he sipped his coffee. But he wasn't doing work. He was playing Angry Birds.

Loki had another overstuffed chair, his coffee, and another old and battered book. Not Poe this time. No this one was the works of de Sade. And it was autographed.

Kara had worked two long shifts and was - thank GOD - done for a solid twenty four hours. She could get coffee at the Lamb of course but she had been craving a Mocha Latte all day and now she waited in line to get one.

Kelsey had expressed a deep and terrible need for box files. Preferably multicoloured ones to speed up filing. Ben considered this to be a frivolous but reasonable request. He would have preferred sensible black ones, but since Kelsey did the filing, and did it so well and so cheerfully, and nobody would be seeing them anyway, he was walking back across the Square with a rainbow's worth in two huge plastic bags.

Plastic bags were anathema to Ben - especially cheap tin ones that stretched and split and, as now, spilled their cargo onto the pavement.

"Oh f ...." There was a toddler nearby in a stroller so Ben bit that word off and said, "Drat," instead. It didn't have nearly the same cathartic effect.

The shop was taking shape and new stock was arriving daily. Ben had got into a routine for dealing with it - he could shelve while workmen were there, they didn't like him under foot, so he did it in the evenings, when it was quiet - when he had nothing better to do.

Tuesday evening he got his sack truck and stepped out of the back door of the bookstore to fetch another crate of books from the lock up but what he saw made him scowl and then made him hurry across to the lock up opposite and hammer on the half open door.

Guy took a break between pickups and bought a coffee and took it to the angel statue. He liked sitting in the shadow of the big green wings while he drank. It made him feel safe.

###

Ben also had a drink - tea he had made himself. It was getting cold on the counter while he unpacked and shelved books. The door was wide open and the workmen were in and out whistling. Ben was very pleased with the way the work was going. The soft pale turquoise paint on the walls made him feel happy and relaxed. he hoped it would have the same effect on his customers.

###

Charlie should have been answering emails but a thought had struck him and he'd gone and found a sheet of paper and had got out some pastels and was making a glorious smudgy mess that was slowly beginning to look like the City on a windswept and rainy evening. He was particularly enjoying doing the neon reflections in puddles.

There was a big smudge of pink across his cheek.

###

Allan pumped the bellows watching the iron go from red to a glowing yellow-pink, then he took it from the fire to the anvil and picked up his hammer. White sparks showered as he struck, and again. He wasn't making anything in particular, but it really helped him to think.

Ben thanked the barista for his small coffee, the only drink on the menu that he recognized and could pronounce with confidence. After grabbing as much creamer and sugar as his hand could clutch, he scanned the coffee shop for a place to sit. Coffee houses were never his thing. They were too often populated by snobby rich people or equally snobby artists with their expensive lattes and Apple laptops giving dirty looks to anyone who made a noise and dared to interrupt the typing of their ground-breaking novel. This place looked okay, though. Not many people were around, probably because it was night time and the post-work crowd had already left.

( First night )