near ingleside

Centerville 

 

Bloomfield Hills by car

Berkley 

winter gear

 winter 

 

non-haiku falling autumn winter

the odd incongruence 

of a shatter of golden, ochre, autumn leaves 

upon a near foot of white snow 

illuminated under the lamppost 

Fritz

The first day Daphne arrived she was thrown into the whirlwind of the WB Ashbridge universe. “Fritz” apparently was Daphne’s assistant; he handled scheduling her meetings and prioritizing her duties to focus on how to comprehensively rebuild the site.

On Saturday she learned all the secret lock combos and how to navigate their security codes. Then given a tour of the grounds which were vast and they had even supplied her with a map to help get her bearings. The detailed tour took up most of the day with Fritz making sure not to leave out a single detail. On Sunday Daphne was introduced to the entire headquarters staff at a Sunday meet and greet that took place for the entire day. She was exhausted by the time the evening meal was through and fell asleep fast by ten o’clock. 

Which was a good thing because Monday started bright and early with a nine o’clock meeting with her new immediate staff.

And when had she the time to even sift through and organize all her own decades worth of physical paper notes they had specially flown in on a temperature controlled carrier, when the meetings never stopped? She had tried on Tuesday evening to start the work but the room where they had all the sealed boxes of her work had a coded lock they had forgotten to share with her. By Wednesday Fritz said he’d find out the code for her.

Fritz ? It was a nickname he said that stuck as it didn’t quite suit him.

“Fitzgerald —I don’t know why but the former ceo never got it right so it sadly stuck, but— do you see me complain?” he gave her an odd wink, “I’ll answer to whatever they call me, how about you—are you just Daphne?”

The Ashbridge Headquarters

From behind the mirrored glass she watched the meeting take place in the east wing reception room. When the meeting was over the parties dispersed but one walked to the heavy velvet draperies afterward and slipped through the secret door 

“What did you think of her?” the long time friend from Flintlock Publishing House asked the stately elderly woman who sat on the other side of the glass. She was an intimidating woman, despite her age, with sharp glassy pale grey eyes that missed nothing behind her wire frames that, with her upswept and elegantly pinned hair gave her a remarkable appearance of resembling her mother whose well known face always graced the backs of her famous novels

Celest Ashbridge Rathbone, only daughter of the great author but not the only product 

“Hmmm….” the elder woman looked back at Simone with a thoughtful glint before she said, “she will do….now come sit by me, we have much to plan.”

<<I’m sorry I can’t get away until later in the week, I have meetings every day until late in the week.>>

<<why don’t we meet up later? When is your last meeting at?>>

It is awhile before the reply comes 

<<I have two days they owe me for holiday—I can get away by Wednesday night>>

<<then meet me then>>