Donna
"Oh. My. GOD!" Donna spun around on her heel on the tiles. "This isn't a summer house, it's a ruddy palace!"
The other newcomers heartily agreed, slowly turning in the central courtyard of their home for the next month and taking it all in. The house proved to be a grand mediterranean-style villa, three full floors wrapped around three sides of said courtyard, complete with tinkling fountain in the center of the painted tiles. Arches and covered walkways and brilliantly blooming bougainvillea crowning gleaming white stucco walls were everywhere, and a boardwalk bridged the gap from the middle-floor balcony to the tall dunes separating the house from the wide sandy beach. The opening of the U faced the road, away from the beach, containing the elaborate wrought-iron gate through the high stucco wall; the front half of the courtyard thereby doubled as the driveway between gate and multi-car garage underneath the house proper. The rest of the ground floor was devoted to various storage and work rooms, keeping the living areas up out of hurricane-induced flood danger.
The top floor was given over to a dozen bedrooms of various sizes, each with its own private balcony overlooking beach or courtyard, and three positively sybaritic bathrooms. All the common rooms were in the middle level, which was split right in two by a large, covered breezeway-balcony, which tunneled through the entire bottom of the U between courtyard and dunes. A complete bamboo living room set upholstered in tough outdoor fabric complemented the patio-style tables and chairs on the carpeted balcony – and now also a familiar blue wooden box tucked into one corner, out of the sun. Kitchen, formal dining room, indoor living room, TV room (more properly called a private theater), library, bathrooms, and all kinds of nooks and crannies were arrayed on both wings of that middle floor. And finally, a pair of large cupolas crowned the two seaside corners, with an open widow's walk running between them on the roof. The southern cupola was open to the breeze on all sides, while the northern one was closeable with glass and shutters in each window.
"Like it?" Mike grinned at his wife.
She gaped at him, duh! Then, in a scandalized whisper, she asked, "But how much did it cost?"
He grimaced. "Don't worry about it, love. Summer Rain's paying for this, and there's plenty left over." He waved her off and turned to the kids. "Who's for the beach?"
The chorus of ME!s threatened to drown out Rose's "Take your bags to your rooms first, 'cause I'm not carrying them all in!" but she got it in anyway – because they had to dig out their swimsuits. A tour of the house was thereby called for, and the bedrooms aportioned out. Hannah was instinctively drawn to the north cupola, closing the shutters against the direct sun and turning it into an artist's retreat, and then she imperiously drafted the Doctor into helping her move her paintings and canvases and paraphernalia she'd insisted on bringing up the three flights to her new aerie. He shared an exasperated look with his twin for their mother's attitude, and got to work, grumbling under his breath.
Personal bags properly dumped in each room, the kids threw on their swimsuits and besieged Mike to take them across the dunes, and he laughingly complied, dragooning Grandad Wilf into helping him ride herd and leaving Donna, Sylvia, and Rose to make the multiple trips from TARDIS to kitchen with their supply of food. "Tell me again why we brought an entire market with us?" queried Sylvia.
"Because there isn't a market in town, only a tiny convenience store," replied Donna. "Mike said the nearest grocery is back up in Nag's Head, and that's a couple of hours away – and probably twice as expensive as our market at home. And I'm NOT eating every single meal in the two restaurants here in Summerville; that'd be both ridiculously expensive, and boring to boot."
"Oh. That's why. Good thinking," replied her mother, only slightly put out. There were a LOT of bags to carry in. "Remind me to thank Mike for spotting the TARDIS on this floor, rather than down below in the courtyard."
Donna grinned. "Hark at you, now! Anybody'd think you'd been traveling by TARDIS for years, rather than this being your second whole trip in her!" The first had been a visit to Rome on a whim a couple of years before, a surprise for Sylvia's birthday. Sylvia simply smiled, sphinx-like.
Trips done, the two Nobles waived Rose off to join the fun at the beach, saying they'd put it all away themselves. They worked in silence for a bit, but Sylvia kept shooting curious glances at her daughter. Finally, she spoke up. "OK, girlie. What's going on?"
Donna turned a confused face. "What are you talking about?"
"Between you and Mike. Something's off. What is it?" Subtlety had never been her strong suit.
"Nothing's off, Mum. We're fine!"
"Donna. Don't give me that, I've known you too long." She stepped over to Donna, putting both hands on her shoulders and stopping her. "What's going on?"
Donna sighed. "I don't know. It's... Honestly, Mum, it's nothing. It's no big deal. Mike's just... he's just been a bit quiet lately. I don't know why."
"Quiet?"
"Yeah. Quiet. Restless. Distracted. Tired. Distant." Now that the words had started, they didn't seem to want to stop, and she kept finding new ones at the tip of her tongue. She caught herself then, and shut her mouth with a pop. "It's nothing, Mum," she repeated. "He's just been working hard on his book, that's all."
"He finished writing that thing months ago, Donna," her mum reminded her. She turned back to her cabinet and resumed putting up boxes of cereal. "It's not the book. Something else is going on." She glanced over her shoulder at her daughter gazing into space out the window. "Have you been treating him right?"
"What?"
"You know what I mean."
"Mum! None of your business!" Donna flushed and didn't turn. Something on the breezeway caught her eye and she peered closer: Rose and the Doctor were having a private conversation. An intense one, from the unhappy look on Rose's face.
"Well, I'm just asking. 'Cause if you ask me, and you didn't, all those things you just mentioned point to one thing." She didn't continue, waiting for Donna to ask.
Finally, Donna gave an exasperated sigh and obliged her. "What's that, Mum?"
"He's having a midlife crisis."
Donna spluttered. "A midlife crisis! Don't be ridiculous, Mum! The man's over nine hundred years old! Well, not literally him, the Doctor is, but since Mike's got all his memories from before Mike was born, it's the same thing."
"So? All the more reason for him to be bothered by the fact that he has only a few decades left – and I've seen those gray hairs at his temple."
Donna snorted, but she was speechless. That couldn't be it, could it? A midlife crisis? Mike? No way. But the idea wouldn't go away.
"I'm telling you, dear, that's what it is." The groceries all put away, Sylvia turned and began walking out of the kitchen, tossing a last dig over her shoulder. "All that's missing is the red sports car."
Donna was staring out the window again. "Or the younger blonde," she whispered to herself.
The Doctor had reached towards his wife, placating, but Rose threw both hands up, warding him off. Then she shook her head at him, turned and stumbled towards the boardwalk bridge, but not before Donna caught a glimpse of tears.