Can I Lean On You | Finley & Harlyn #2

Chapter 23

Harlyn

The Universe is laughing at me. I thought that after going to Windsor Castle with Finley and the huge success that was movie night on Saturday, we were back on track. Despite the fact that we still haven't had a chance to have a deep conversation about the possibility of moving in, I was feeling pretty good about everything. And then Monday came around, and Finley seemed to be even more distant than he had been. It really threw me off after how affectionate he was on Saturday night, especially.

Tuesday was...fine. A long day alone in the dusty attic of Highton House without seeing the sun followed by an evening in the University library pouring over old books for hours and hours wasn't ideal. But it was heaven compared to Wednesday. It starts well enough. Mum surprises me with pancakes for breakfast, and my morning class goes smoothly. But when I get to work, I discover that I'll be working for the rest of the day - a good four hours - with Brandon and Hannah in the basement sorting through and polishing silver dinnerware.

Three weeks ago, this would've been a mild inconvenience, an annoyance. Something I'd politely chit chat through and then vent to Finley about later. But after The Incident, and after three weeks of avoiding them as much as I possibly could, I have a feeling it's going to be less of an inconvenience and more of a confrontation. Thankfully, Marty stays with us for a bit to direct us, and I put my earbuds in as he's leaving. So, I'm able to ignore them for the most part, staying in my little corner of the butler's office, sorting the serving ware, and setting them aside to take to the kitchen to polish.

That works for a whole hour and a half until Mr. Wentworth shows up. He does this rather often to "check in." Normally, he checks in with just Marty, probably because he doesn't trust us to be doing anything at Highton House. But he sweeps into the butler's office, and I realize a fraction of a second too late that up until about nine months ago, this was his office. And I'm sitting in his chair. I pull out one earbud and pause my music.

"Mr. Wentworth, hi," Hannah greets from where she's pulling wine decanters from the cabinets on the other side of the room, always trying to butter up any adult within a five mile radius.

"Hello," Mr. Wentworth drawls, raising a single eyebrow. Sometimes I wonder if that eyebrow is permanently stuck like that. "Dr. Williams told me that you had made it down here today. Thought I should come supervise. Make sure you are polishing correctly. This was one of my duties, you know." For a moment, he actually looks nostalgic. "I guess you haven't actually made it to the polishing portion, have you?"

I shake my head. "No, not yet. Just sorting and cataloging now." I hold up the notebook sitting on the desk next to me. "But I'm about to take all of this into the kitchen and get started."

"Well, I will help." Mr. Wentworth hooks his walking cane over his forearm and slides his hands under one of the stacks of serving trays.

"Oh, that's alright, Mr. Wentworth," I argue, shooting out of the desk chair.

"Can't have you polishing them incorrectly, can I?" he says, sweeping out of the office and toward the kitchen before I can say anything else.

Hannah smirks at me. "Good luck with that."

I don't respond. I just gather what I can carry from the rest of the serving platters and dishes and hurry to the kitchen. Mr. Wentworth has already started polishing away at a large platter with the microfiber cloth and silver polish that was waiting on the broad butcher block island. I think just the island is the size of our entire kitchen.

As soon as I set my portion of dishes down, Mr. Wentworth hands me another cloth and starts prattling on about proper polishing techniques - don't polish in circular motions, rinse in warm water right after, dry and buff shiny with a soft cloth. There are boxes with a bunch of old towels and other packing materials in the kitchen, too, and Mr. Wentworth instructs me on some of the best ways to properly pack the dinnerware. I try to make meticulous notes as we go so we know which box has which stuff.