Harlyn
Highton House sits just outside the city on a few acres of sprawling grass. The house is beautiful, all tan brick and white framed windows and so many chimneys. The grounds are empty except for a few lone willow trees and a two story, u-shaped carriage house that I'm told is full of the rest of the Earl's extensive collection. They've also brought in three temporary buildings. One is set up with the command center for the historians on the job. The other two will be where we sort and store the most delicate artifacts while they do renovations on the house.
They've already started the outside work so they can get it done before it's too cold. And as I walk up the drive for my first official day on the job, I wave at some of the workers putting together scaffolding. They don't wave back.
I've been here a couple times in the last few weeks, mostly to get paperwork signed and to meet my fellow employees. I'm one of three Uni students recruited to help the real historians catalog and organize everything to eventually be open to the public. I haven't actually been inside the house yet, just on the grounds. They were waiting for all of the legal stuff and paperwork to go through so they could start work.
"Harlyn, good morning," Marty Williams greets when I enter the office to clock in. He's hunched over the desk in the corner, scrolling on his laptop, blue button up rolled to his elbows.
"Good morning, sir." I scribble my time in on my timesheet and stick it back in my cubby. "Do we finally get to go inside today?"
He turns to face me and rubs his hands together. "We do. Well, I've been inside, but we finally get to start doing stuff in there."
The door opens and a girl strides in, long brown hair swooshing around her shoulders. Hannah, a student from University of Kent, smiles at me in a way that makes me slightly uncomfortable. I can't pinpoint why, but it makes smiling back at her hard. So, I pull out my phone as an excuse not to interact with her and text Finley back.
He's applying to jobs today, and he keeps sending me screenshots of weird job listings. I haven't seen him since we dropped him off at his flat yesterday. After we had lunch with Marley and Mel before they went off on their honeymoon, we helped clean up a bit and drove home. I got to sit with him in the backseat holding his hand. But after most of the week away from home and surrounded by people, we were both exhausted and figured just going home would make the most sense.
Honestly, I'm disappointed. He's been here over a week, and I've only spent a few hours completely alone with him. It's stupid. I know. He's here for longer than a week. He lives here now. I'm seeing him tonight. But I can't shake the feeling that I don't have enough time with him.
I don't have much time to dwell on it, though, because the other student working on the project strides in and pecks Hannah on the cheek. Brandon. I'm convinced the only reason he got the job is that he's Hannah's boyfriend and Hannah's got Marty wrapped around her finger. It's kind of disgusting. But I try to ignore it. I'm here to do a job, not judge other people for...uncomfortable flirting at work. With a man three times your age.
"Evans!" Brandon exclaims when he sees me. He bounces on his toes, and his dirty blonde hair swooshes obnoxiously across his forehead. "How are you, mate?"
"Fine. You?" I ask, my mind still half focused on Finley and the last screenshot he sent me.
"Good. Good. You ready to start classes next week?"
I'm not entirely in the mood to chit chat with Brandon of all people. But I've had to make small talk with much less pleasant people. So, we talk about what classes we're taking and how crazy it is that it's our last year at university.
And then finally, the other person who is here day to day shows up. Stewart Wentworth - the Earl's butler. Well, former butler. He still refers to himself as the butler even though the rest of the staff was let go when the Earl died at the beginning of the year. And when I say "rest of the staff," I mean the cook and a single maid who only came in for a few hours a day. Only Mr. Wentworth was still living on the property full time. He probably still would if he could.
He raises a bushy gray eyebrow at us all when he enters the office, dressed as always in a three piece suit. "Good morning."
"Good morning, Mr. Wentworth," Marty greets, brushing past Hannah to shake his hand vigorously. "Excited to finally be digging in today."
"Mm," Mr. Wentworth hums, eyebrow still raised. "So am I. Excited to make sure you all treat His Lordship's things with respect."
Marty coughs. "Of course."
We all stand in awkward silence while Marty fumbles for his keys. Today's just introductory, I guess. We're just looking around the house and getting the run down from Marty on the Capital P Plan. We've gotten some idea, a glimpse into what the board's been working on in the six months since they were appointed after the Earl's death. But I'm itching to get inside, see everything, and be in the house.
Finally, Marty finds his key - a shiny new thing, freshly cut - and we head across the lawn. The house has only been empty since February, but there's already a layer of dust covering everything. Mr. Wentworth swipes his finger over a table in the entry hall and scowls. I'm too busy taking in the grandeur to even really notice. The entry hall is all dark wood and soaring columns of tan marble that stretch all the way to the second floor ceiling and hold up the gallery above. I tiptoe across the black and white checkered floor, soaking in the slightly eerie, slightly magical feeling I always get walking through a place like this.
Marty and Mr. Wentworth are already bickering about something and we're only in the first room. I attempt to ignore them and just be, taking in everything as we wander through the library and dining room and butler's pantry. We peek into the rooms upstairs just long enough for Marty to point out interesting artifacts.
"Items," Mr. Wentworth is careful to correct him every time.
Marty coughs again. "Right, of course."
Brandon sidles up next to me as we're taking turns inching up the attic staircase. "Hannah says that he's the reason it's taken so long to get us in here, start everything."
"Who, Wentworth?" I ask.
"Mmhm," he murmurs back. "He's not too happy about...us. Being here. All of this."
"It was the Earl that put all of this in his will. Donating it to the city. Forming the board. All of it. Wentworth's even the head of the board. That was...in black and white."
Brandon smirks. "Yeah, well, looks like Wentworth's beloved Earl didn't leave him everything he wanted him to." He follows Hannah up the staircase. "The Drama."
I roll my eyes. There's not any room in my life for drama at the moment. I'm here for the history. Although, I guess there is quite a bit of drama in history.
The attic is mostly servant's bedrooms. Or they used to be. Now, they're full of stuff. Boxes. Wooden crates. Plastic totes. Even garbage bags of who knows what.
"God, how much of a hoarder was this guy?" Hannah grumbles. Mr. Wentworth shoots her what might be a glare if he wasn't so posh. She snaps her mouth shut. At least I know what gets her to shut up.
We trudge to the carriage house next. I don't know the last time there was a carriage or a horse in here, but it's been a while. At least twenty years. And it's become just another storage space. This is where Marty really comes alive. The late Earl moved a bunch of his father's stuff out here when he took over the house and title. Of course, there's a ton of stuff in the house itself. But this stuff is older. And I can see the glee all over Marty's face.
A bit of that glee settles over me, too. And even though I've seriously doubted Hannah and Brandon's interest in history and wondered every time I've talked to them why they chose history as their study program, they also bounce on their toes a bit. The only person who seems to be less than excited is Mr. Wentworth. He just looks bored.
When we're back to the office, Marty hands us each a binder with everything we need to know about the plan - the renovations, the cleaning, the gathering of items. Mr. Wentworth sits in the corner, ankle crossed over his knee, seemingly completely uninterested. I'm fascinated and itching to look farther into those rooms, find all the secrets, read all the diaries and family histories and help put together exhibits and plaques.
And by the time I get to Finley's flat, I'm vibrating with excitement.
It's Elly who answers the door, phone pressed to her ear. "Yeah, of course. I get that but..." She waves me in and up the stairs, and as much as I want to ask who the heck she's talking to on the phone I just want to see Finley. So, I dart up three flights to his door and knock.
"Come in!"
When I push the door open, he looks up from his laptop. He's sprawled on his bed, bare feet kicking in the air and head propped in his hand. His hair's all messed up like he's been running his hand through it too much.
"Hi," I greet.
"Oh, hey." He glances at his phone. "Is it that late? I didn't realize."
The look in his eyes is slightly vacant, and it deflates my history joy bubble a little. I haven't seen that look in a while. I flop onto the bed and end up half on top of him.
"Oof. Dude. Warning," he grunts. But he doesn't move. He just drops his head to his arms and smirks at me.
"Sorry." I close his laptop and set it on the floor. "How long have you been staring at your laptop?"
He shrugs, his face disappearing behind his arm. "A while."
I pull out my phone and scroll back through our texts to the first job listing he sent me this morning. "This was almost seven hours ago. Have you been looking at job listings this whole time?"
"Maybe." He draws the word out and smirks again.
I raise my eyebrow. "Have you eaten?"
"Um. No."
"Finley Bowers," I murmur, pressing a kiss to his temple. "You need to eat."
"I know. I got...distracted. Caught up." He melts into my touch a little, and I look him over.
"Find anything good?"
He nods and rolls onto his side. "Applied to a few. Mostly fast food places, restaurants. That's what I have experience in." He grins. "Nando's is hiring."
"Oh, that is not fair," I exclaim. "Do you know how many times I complained about Nando's never hiring when I needed a job?"
"No. But you've definitely said it enough for me to get the picture." He taps me on the nose. "Don't worry. If I get the job, you can come see me every day."
"Free food?"
"I don't know what their employee discount policy is but maybe."
I roll my eyes. "Alright. Now. You're going to take a break. We're going to eat. And I am going to tell you all about Highton House and how much I want to take you to work to show you."
His eyes light up. "Ooh, yes please."
Elly's still on the phone when we trudge down the stairs to the kitchen. I raise an eyebrow at Finley, but he just shrugs. We make grilled cheese and sit in the dining room while I fill him in on everything I can remember about the house. Everything I can try to put into words.
"Finley, you'd love it. You'd go crazy. I just...I kept making mental notes of things to tell you about, because I want you to see it. I don't even remember everything. It's just - what?"
He shakes his head, but he's grinning. "Nothing. You're just...you're really cute when you're excited about stuff. It's like...seventeen percent of the reason I fell in love with you."
I can't count the number of times we've said "I love you" since the reception. We got a tiny bit champagne drunk near the end of the night and just kept saying it over and over while we danced, while we ate too many cupcakes, while we laid in the grass and looked at the stars and kissed. But it still makes my entire body melt every time he says it again.
"A whole seventeen percent, hm?" I tease.
"Yeah. All those...trips you and Elly took us on. Couldn't ignore that little sparkle in your eyes.
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
"God, you two are such saps," Elly exclaims, plopping down in the chair next to me. "I knew you'd be here all the time. Forgot how gross you two are."
I push at her shoulder. "You love it. What was the phone call about?"
"Oh, nothing. Boss is being crazy about hours."
The front door opens and Francesca calls, "Hiya!"
"Hey, babes. In here. Warning, the boys are being gross."
Francesca leans halfway into the dining room. "Of course they are. They're in love." She undoes her top button. "We doing it now?"
Finley shakes his head furiously and I frown. "Doing what?"
"Polly will be home in five minutes. We'll do it then," Elly says.
Francesca gives us a thumbs up and disappears up the stairs.
I look at Elly. "What are we doing?"
"You'll see, babes."
Finley winks at me and grabs my plate to take back to the kitchen. No matter how much I bug him and poke him and kiss his neck, he won't tell me. When Polly comes through the front door, she smiles at me.
"Ah. He's already here."
"Where else would he be?" Elly asks, brushing past both of us and sinking onto the couch with a bowl of ice cream. "Fran! We're doing it!"
"What are we doing?" I ask again.
Polly pulls her hair down. "Do I have time to shower first?"
"No. I want to know what you lot are talking about," I demand.
"Alright, calm down, sweetheart," Finley chuckles. "Elly, put him out of his misery." He pulls me onto the floor against the TV stand and into his lap. I don't think he's ever done that before. I'm not sure what to do with it, so I just let him wrap his arms around my chest and watch the girls sit on the couch, trying to steal bites of Elly's ice cream.
She smacks at their hands until they give up. "Alright. Harley. Babes. We had our first official roommate meeting last night after Finley got home." Finley squeezes me on the word home. "And Fran had a great idea that we all voted on."
She tosses something at me. I barely catch it before it hits my face. It's a key. "What's this?"
"It's yours, sweetheart." Finley kisses my ear.
"You're basically the fifth roommate anyway," Polly says, shrugging. "We thought we'd make it...sort of official."
Elly half smiles at me. "I know you don't want to live here. But I know you'll be here a lot. This way, you can come and go even if no one's home or Finley's upstairs and can't hear you pounding."
I want to throw back that I don't pound, I knock. And that I don't need this. I'm fine waiting for someone or whatever. But I'm too choked up.
"Are you sure?" I finally gasp. They all nod. "Like...really sure? I don't want to...walk in on you...I don't know."
Polly cackles. "You think we're going to be walking around here naked?"
I blush to the tips of my ears, and Finley giggles in my ear. "Just take it. They're not going to take no for an answer."
"Alright. Thank you."
Polly pats my head and disappears to shower. Elly and Francesca start chatting about their days. And I lean my head back onto Finley's shoulder.
"Good surprise?"
"Good surprise."