Specter~Chapter 2
Spring 2012
Her classes were finally getting interesting. She was nearing the end of her junior year at the University of Mary Washington, studying historic preservation. The first two years were mainly pre-requisites; now, the classes were more specific to her major. She had chosen this school because of its proximity to Washington DC and all the history that entailed. Historic buildings and architecture had always intrigued her and when she found out she could actually study it in college she was all sign me up!
There was just a couple months left of the school year and it was time to register for classes for the fall, her senior year. She couldn't believe time had flown by so quickly. As she sat in a course about the National Register of Historic Places, her instructor began the lecture talking about internships. She knew she had to complete an internship to earn her undergraduate degree but really hadn't given it too much thought at that point. Her instructor advised that the students start looking into internships because the good ones, i.e. the paid ones, went fast. The instructor passed around information about available internships, and she tucked it in her binder to read later.
xxxxx
"Oh…oh…Noah…don't stop…please…" she whispered to him. He pushed a few more times, grunted, and rolled off her. She heard the snap of the latex as he pulled the condom off and tossed it aside.
Her breathing was heavy, even though he left her unfulfilled…again. She felt the shift of the bed as he got up and made his way to the bathroom. He returned to the bedroom and began pulling on his clothes. She sat up, clutching the sheet to her chest.
"You're leaving?" she asked. "Again?"
"Yeah, babe, I've got an early class and I just need the sleep…you're all elbows and knees…it's hard to sleep with you," he answered gruffly. "I'll catch up with ya in a few days…I always do."
Her shoulders slumped. Why did she always put up with his bullshit?
"M'kay…" she mumbled. He leaned over her and kissed her on the top of her head, then strode through her apartment.
She heard the door slam, so she got up to lock it behind him.
xxxxx
"I need to choose an internship," she said to her best friend, Santana, over coffee at the student union.
"That should be easy…there are tons of historic places here," Santana said, nibbling on a scone. "I already have mine lined up."
"You do? Where?"
Santana smiled. "New York City, baby! They needed a Spanish interpreter at this theater, so, it should be interesting. The stipend is awesome, too." Santana was majoring in performing arts, minoring in Spanish studies.
"Wait…you're getting paid?"
Santana nodded happily. "Yep! They're putting me up in a condo and paying me for three months!"
Santana laughed at her friend's reaction of wide open eyes and jaw dropped. "You need to get yours lined up, Quinn, time's a'runnin' out!"
Quinn took Santana's words to heart and began researching the ones on the list she had been given that sounded promising.
It took her a week to go through them all and they had all been filled. She was in her Preservation Law class pondering this and listening to her classmates talk about their glorious internships…at Mount Vernon, the Smithsonian, Williamsburg…and she sighed. Her mind lately had been clouded by Noah and his antics.
Class ended, and she followed the other students into the hallway. She passed an announcement board and a posting jumped out at her.
INTERNSHIP~ROOM AND BOARD INCLUDED
ABRAMS ESTATE
BATTENFIELD, MAINE
HISTORIC PRESERVATION MAJORS ONLY
APPLY AT: 207-392-6678
She stopped and plucked the phone number from it. No other numbers had been pulled. The announcement was handwritten, in calligraphy it appeared, on parchment paper. It definitely caught her attention. She tried to recall studying an Abrams Estate in Maine but it didn't ring any bells.
Not paid, Quinn, remember that, she thought to herself, frowning.
She got to her apartment and opened her laptop to research this Abrams Estate before calling the number provided. She searched Google and was thankful there was a Wikipedia entry for the place, even a picture.
The place basically looked like a massive gray stone castle. The lines of the building were unique. The sizes and placement of the windows were odd. It was built high up on a bluff overlooking the Atlantic, right on the coastline. The nearest town was a place called Battenfield, a small town that had been around forever, it seemed.
Its history was it had been commissioned to be built in the mid 1850s by a man named Arthur Abrams. He had been unsatisfied with the original layout and ordered more wings to be built. He was a lifelong bachelor and eventually his large estate became a home for other unmarried folk in the area. After he died, the town took it over and it then became the poorhouse, then it sat empty and was in disrepair by the time of the Great Depression. It was recognized as a historic place by Maine in the 1970s and bought by the state and it had been going through restoration slowly since then. She wondered what the internship would entail, so she took a deep breath and dialed the number.
xxxxx
"Arthur Abrams Estate," a female voice answered on the first ring.
"Hello...I'm calling to inquire about the summer internship," Quinn said.
"Oh!" the woman said happily. "Are you a student at Mary Washington then?"
"I am. If I may have an address where to send my app-"
The lady interrupted her.
"We can conduct a mini interview over the telephone if you have the time..."
This took Quinn by surprise but she went with it. "Sure..."
Quinn gave the woman her personal information (name: Quinn Miller; date of birth: September 1, 1992; address; major: historic preservation; what year of school she was in).
The woman then introduced herself as Emma Pillsbury, a direct descendant of one of the previous residents of the estate (when it had been an old folks' home, she said). She told Quinn that the state of Maine's objective with restoration of the property was to eventually open it to the public. The restoration was nearly complete, what needed to be done now was sort through and catalog items left at the estate. Some of the items were, of course, possessions of Arthur Abrams; however, when residents there died, if no family took possession of the decedent's items they were stored away in the basement. Ms. Pillsbury said there was a significant amount of things to go through because most of the people who had resided there, then died, were without family.
Quinn found that sad in a way but also intriguing.
"Of course, now, with all the genealogy rage, people are coming out of the woodwork looking for any information on long-lost relatives who might've lived here so this would give them something, as well," Ms. Pillsbury told her.
"So, my duties would entail...?" Quinn asked.
"Sorting through what was left behind, building a database in Microsoft Access, cataloging it, and then we'll decide what should be put on display. Since this was considered an old folk's home and the poor house, I sincerely doubt there is anything of value to be found. You of course will stay on the premises and all your meals will be provided by the chef. You are required to work 40 hours per week through June, July, and August. However, the estate cannot afford to pay you a stipend unfortunately. Of course, you may work more than those 40 hours per week if you so desire. You can spend your downtime enjoying the scenery and the little town of Battenfield; it's very historic."
Quinn was actually very interested. "Do you live on-site?"
Ms. Pillsbury chuckled. "Oh no...I have a tidy little home in Battenfield. I'm here daily, though."
"So...I'd be there alone at night, then?" Quinn asked. This caused her a bit of anxiety.
"Yes, but there is an excellent security system in place to deter vandals. Let me give you our address so you may send your resume and references..."
Quinn wrote down the information and said she'd have her application in the mail within the next day. Ms, Pillsbury told her that as soon as she received it she'd be in contact with Quinn.
Quinn hung up the phone, strangely excited about this prospect.
xxxxx
"Hey baby...I brought some pizza...your fave...pepperoni and extra onions," Noah said at her door.
She smiled a bit. Those were his favorite toppings; she preferred sausage and mushrooms. She took the pizza from him, and he followed her in, pulling a beer from his six-pack and putting the rest in the refrigerator. He plopped down on her couch and flipped on the TV to ESPN. She sat down with him, plucking pepperoni and onions from her slice of pizza.
"How're your classes going?" she asked him.
"Eh...so-so...I might have to take that English class over," he mumbled. She sighed. He was majoring in broadcasting, sports minor, and still couldn't manage to pass his pre-req English class.
"I have a great internship opportunity," she said brightly, changing the conversation slightly.
"Oh really? Cool..." he said, going back to the TV.
"It's in Maine, though, and for the whole summer," she told him. He grunted in reply and didn't ask her anything further about it.
They sat there in relative silence and ate the pizza while he knocked back a couple more beers and flipped channels. Once he had finished eating, he belched and slung an arm around her shoulders. She knew the routine...pizza, beer, TV, sex. Him putting his arm around her signaled the beginning of foreplay. It was now or never, she thought.
"Um, Noah, tonight's just not a good night...I started..." she said quietly. She never had periods anymore; she was on the pill but he didn't know that. He removed his arm and sat next to her stiffly. After a few minutes, he made a production of stretching, then stood up.
"Well, babe, I'm doin' that thing tomorrow morning on the radio so, ya know, I better head out," he said. One of his classes was working on-site at a local radio station, mainly as a go-fer type boy, not actually broadcasting on the radio. She stood up with him and followed him to her door.
"Have a good day, then," she said smiling.
He suddenly remembered the three beers left in her fridge and ran to grab them, then took off after a quick kiss on her cheek. She was proud of herself for finally sending him on his way and not giving in to anymore meaningless sex.
The next morning, she mailed her resume and other vital information to the Arthur Abrams Estate in Maine.
xxxxx
One week later, Quinn received her acceptance letter from the Abrams Estate and began making arrangements to travel there. She subletted her apartment, let her mother know where she'd be for the summer, and met with Santana for drinks a couple nights before they both left town for their respective internships.
"So, are you and Noah done?" Santana asked her.
"Yeah, I think so...it kinda ran its course, I guess," Quinn replied, stirring her cosmopolitan.
"He was an ass, Quinn, and certainly didn't deserve you," Santana said. "You deserve someone who sees the real you."
Quinn smiled and sipped on her drink, looking around the noisy club. "We'll see...I doubt there's any free fellows up in Maine," she laughed.
"You never know where you'll find love."
"I'm pretty sure it won't be in the basement of this ancient castle-like home I'm going to!"
They both laughed about that.
"Just keep in touch, will ya?" Santana asked. "And take lots of pictures."
"Too bad you can't come visit me," Quinn said. "This lady I spoke to who will be there during the day sounds nice but super uptight and antsy."
"I'd love nothing more to come visit you in that musty, dusty old home...probably full of ghosts, ya know...but I'll be busy living it up in NYC, baby!" Santana then raised her glass and let out a yell. "C'mon! Let's dance!"
Quinn followed Santana to the dance floor, laughing, and danced the night away, her thoughts not on her internship at all.
A/N: Thanks for all the reviews on chapter 1! I know there wasn't a lot to go on...this story takes a couple chapters to get into where it's headed. That's why I decided to put chapter 2 up so quickly. :) Right now, I'm starting chapter 13 so we've got a'ways to go! Thanks again for reading and reviewing...I appreciate it!