living in a daydream @burberryharold - Tumblr Blog

Jan 14

Have a Nice Day, Miss - Part I

You'll eventually read the rest here: Have a Nice Day, Miss | ~4.2k words

From Me/Warnings: so I was inspired a little by Only Murderers in the Building. The good news: no murders in this one, lol. Bad news: you'll probably see a bit of angst throughout, but not in this part. I hope you like them 💕

Summary:

“Alden’s niece?” Niall asked from behind him. “I think I caught a glimpse of her. Cute. Is that her stuff?” Harry nodded silently keeping a steady gaze on her items. “You alright?”

He nodded again. “Jus’ keeping an eye on her stuff.”

He snorted. “Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow at his friend. Harry stared at him. “You’ve got it bad,” Niall chuckled quietly.

One of the hardest parts of Harry’s job was being happy (or at least looking like he was happy) when he was not having a good day. He didn’t get the best sleep. A lot of his night was spent thinking about all the things he had to do today and all the things that he didn’t get to before falling asleep.

Fortunately, the first resident he saw early that morning was Arthur. So, at the very least, it was a little easier to pretend that he was doing okay this morning.

“Mr. Langley, good morning,” Harry smiled, a real genuine smile that he didn’t need to fake. “Your driver is right outside; your coffee was delivered just a moment ago. What time should I expect you back so I can put your thermostat back on?”

“Five-thirty, Mr. Styles. Thank you,” he took the coffee and checked his watch. Arthur was older, his watch was probably worth more than Harry’s entire salary for a year. But Arthur was kind, tipped well at the holidays, and thanked Harry profusely every single day regardless of if he did all that much for him. If Harry was rich, he’d want to be just like Arthur. “How’s the weather out there?”

“It’s a typical January day. Warm in the sun, cold in the wind.”

“Sure, alright. I’ll see you this evening. Don’t work too hard,” he winked.

Harry couldn’t help but grin. Arthur was one of his favorites. “Have a good day, Mr. Langley,” he said holding open the door for him and then turned back toward the lobby. It was huge, the desk where Harry spent a lot of his day was across from the main doors and it was the shortest distance to the elevator. There was ample seating. Some of the residents spent time down there, especially during the holidays to admire the tree Harry put up and get warm by the beautiful fireplace.

Harry didn’t have a lot of money, but the lobby was one of his favorite places.

Except for when someone, who was consistently in a worse mood than he was, arrived like clockwork.

He was sorry to say, but Mrs. Wentworth was… not one of his favorites. She was very particular and was displeased more often than not.

Harry strode back across the lobby to his desk waiting for the list of demands that he was sure were about to fall from her lips at any moment. “Good morning, Mrs. Wentworth,” did he grit his teeth behind his smile a little? Perhaps. It was something he had perfected morning after morning. The older woman barely acknowledged his greeting.

“I have a package coming this morning. It’s very important it doesn’t get mishandled. I don’t want it lying around down here for anyone to take nor on my doorstep. Set it on my kitchen table.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded politely at her demand. In Harry’s time as doorman, he had not once lost a package to theoretical thieves. Hell, he’d hardly ever mixed up two packages when he brought them to a resident’s doorstep. Most people gathered their items in the lobby. Mrs. Wentworth was one of the only people who asked for her packages to be delivered to her door. “Do you need me to call a car, Mrs. Wentworth?” He asked kindly. Get you out of here a little faster, perhaps? He thought to himself.

God, he was not chipper at all this morning.

“Well, it’s not going to call itself now, is it?”

Harry swallowed the ironic laughter that threatened to bubble out of him. He couldn’t help it; it was comical—almost like clockwork that this curmudgeonly woman would have an attitude like that with Harry. He was nothing but polite to everyone, but the least not her, always. “Right away, Mrs. Wentworth,” he nodded and quickly busied himself with the phone call for her car and driver. He hoped for the person at the other end of the line would send a veteran and not a new driver. That would be disastrous for everyone involved.

Seconds after hanging up, he found Mrs. Wentworth gathering her mail from the boxes in the small little room where they resided to the right of the lobby. He took a small, relieved breath to not have to worry for fifteen seconds before her next demand was ordered. Or that she wasn’t eyeing him like he forgot to iron his shirt.

Within those fifteen seconds, however, the electronic beeping of a large moving truck pulled up and backed up against the curb outside the building. Briefly he glanced at the notes he had prepared on the desk in front of him just to double-check he had all the relevant information corrected.

The newest resident of Kingsley Place was moving in.

The building had been around for nearly a hundred years but had been renovated in the current century. It was hard for a new person to move in unless they had a lot of money or a lot of wealth prior to signing the lease.

Which was exactly what Harry was afraid of.

“That truck is going to get in the way of my car,” Mrs. Wentworth snapped.

Especially if the new resident was going to be anything like Mrs. Wentworth.

Harry hurried to the door hoping to assure Mrs. Wentworth of any problems. (Plus, if the truck blocked her in, Harry would never hear the end of it, and he might not make it through his workday). He waved to the driver to get his attention. “Can I trouble you to move up a bit?” He asked. The driver saluted him and moved up just as Mrs. Wentworth’s car pulled up. Harry held the door open as the old woman crossed the threshold. Harry was excited to see her off for the day. Who knew what she did while she was gone all day, but at least she wouldn’t be souring his mood in the lobby for any longer. The driver of the truck got out and started to open the back with a loud, clanging, metallic sound as the door slid to the top.

“Whoever the new resident is, better not scratch up the floor or the elevator with their junk,” Harry held open the door for her to pass through. She stood just in front of the entry way waiting for Harry’s next move.

“Course not, Mrs. Wentworth,” Harry held his arm out for her to take to walk to the edge of the sidewalk and get into her car.

“Oh great,” she scoffed bitterly. “It’s another one of you young’uns,” her voice was filled with distaste. “She better not play loud music and better not be on my floor.”

Better for her sake, surely. Harry knew next to nothing about the new resident other than her name. Other than she was Henry Alden’s niece and had been given the luxurious apartment on the twelfth floor (luckily for everyone involved, not the same floor as Mrs. Wentworth). For once, Harry sided with the old, cranky lady.

Harry was frustrated that she was young too. Or perhaps jealous was a better word for how he felt (although he would deny it tooth and nail). Harry worked hard. He tried his best every day and yet people were still handed the pretty apartments like the one this woman was about to move into.

Harry glanced in the direction of the truck expecting to find a woman like all the other new-money residents that lived in his building. He expected name brand athleisure wear and a mere photo op of her “moving in” with her make up and hair perfectly done and a crew of men to do the actual moving. He’d seen it at least ten times over.

Harry thought about when he moved into the building. It was a small living space, he was allowed in what was practically the basement of the building. He moved every item in himself without help. Granted he didn’t have much. He was very grateful for any space in the beautiful building at a reasonable price when he saw how much the apartments he served cost.

“Excuse me, ma’am.”

The voice came from behind them as Harry helped Mrs. Wentworth into the car. The woman that Harry had been thinking about, and the one Mrs. Wentworth was worried about being too loud appeared just off the side of Harry’s elbow. “I believe you dropped this,” she said holding out an envelope. Harry glanced at it briefly and he wasn’t quite sure of its contents of course, but he’d bet there was a check or money in it, for sure.

Mrs. Wentworth snatched it out of her hands. “Harry, did you see it fall? Did you try to take it?!”

Harry nearly gaped. He started to protest before he could stop it; he spent a lot of time refraining from speaking his mind around his least favorite resident. But he slept poorly and he was on track for a bad day. It would rid himself of Mrs. Wentworth once and for all if he just told her off.

If this angry, old woman got him fired because she was going to accuse him of stealing when he had never been anything but nice to her, he would without a doubt cry.

But before he could finally tell her off, he was interrupted.

“No ma’am,” she said quickly instead. “I was just coming over to introduce myself, when you adjusted your purse over your shoulder, I saw it flutter out. Must have caught the breeze. It’s okay! It’s all sealed and I didn’t see anything else fall,” she said reassuringly with a kind smile. Her voice was gentle and it sounded like the way her smile looked: pretty, warm, and lovely. Harry only had a peripheral visual of her at the moment. He was trying to make sure Mrs. Wentworth was safely inside the car and not about to break a leg between the curb and the door frame. “It’s nice to meet you,” she stuck her hand out in between Harry and the open space of the car. He chose this moment to look at the driver up front, steeling himself for a ride with Mrs. Wentworth. It clearly wasn’t his first rodeo either—and Harry was glad the company sent someone used to her antics—and if she was in a bad mood before she got in the car it was all over for him.

“Oh.”

Harry, in the seven or so years of being at Kingsley Place, had not once seen Mrs. Wentworth at a loss for words (or complaint). She shook the new resident’s hand awkwardly and Harry stepped away from the side of the road. “Have a lovely day, Mrs. Wentworth,” he hoped he sounded level and cool, and not like he was begging for her to leave..

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Wentworth,” the woman beside him smiled beautifully.

(It was right at that moment that Harry felt some flicker of emotion in the pit of his stomach. It echoed in his chest. It had been a long time since he wanted a relationship. When he was surrounded by all that money and glamour—especially the new-money residents—he didn’t think of relationships much at all. Since he lacked the kind of money he saw every day, it was hard to convince himself that he could be in a relationship or support someone else. It didn’t feel like it was in the cards for him at this juncture in his life. That was fine by him. He wanted to be out of debt. Wanted to live his quiet little life and nothing more. So, the woman’s kindness and helpfulness to the lowly doorman made that dormant emotion that Harry wasn’t quite sure what it was flutter in his body. It felt almost like some long-ago memory of falling for someone. Was it because she was pretty or because she told off his least favorite resident with nothing but sugar on her tongue? He couldn’t quite tell just yet, but he figured at the very least it was probably both.)

She gave a gentle wave and turned back to her moving truck where the driver was stacking boxes on the sidewalk.

Harry wasn’t sure what he expected.

The new, younger residents didn’t do anything on their own. They needed help with everything. The eye rolls Harry kept at bay when they asked him for inane things and help felt like he was going to develop a head trauma at any moment. They knew how to flash their money around and that was it.

But here she was, thanking the driver and climbing on the back of the truck and procuring a handcart to help with her boxes. “Oh, you’re still here, great!” she said with a bright smile as she hopped down again. “She’s a piece of work, hmm?” She smirked knowingly and tilted her head toward the retreating car.

Harry realized he was staring. How could he not? He had full visual of her now. She was wearing athleisure wear, but he wasn’t sure it was name-brand. He thought back to when the building first opened. Maybe there was something about ankles that were cute. It was cool, but she just wore a sweatshirt over her head. It had a logo for a science seminar of some kind. He didn’t want to get caught staring at her chest, so he opted for a quick scan and nothing more. He cleared his throat. “Uhh… yeah.”

“I’m the new resident. The old Alden residence. My uncle,” she explained.

He nodded solemnly. He tried not to notice the way she lifted her boxes onto the cart because it involved a lot of bending and stretching and she was…pretty. Very, very pretty.

He should have offered his help. He peered around her and noticed the large truck had a lot of extra space and not nearly enough to warrant such a large truck. “You’ll jus’ need t’sign in at the front,” he mumbled.

“Sure, of course,” she grinned sweetly. “I believe I spoke to someone on the phone about who I’d meet today. You’re Mr. Styles, is that correct?”

He cleared his throat again. “Harry, yes,” he reached for one of the boxes and placed it on top of the other. He wasn’t supposed to. If anything, he should have waited for her to ask, at least.

Her pretty eyes followed the movement immediately. “Thank you, Harry,” her voice was so kind, filled with gratitude. “I’m sure you’re busy and I know you’re not supposed to help; I appreciate that. Let me sign whatever you need so I can get out of your way,” she pulled her cart behind her as she headed for the front door.

Harry was a bit stunned. A wave of awe washed over him. She had to have money… right? Her uncle had a lot of money so… it was a family thing… right? Where were her movers? Harry shook his head and tried to remember how to do his job before one of the other residents saw him. Mrs. Wentworth would probably tear him a new one if she saw him not holding the door for her—even if the old lady decided her feelings about the new resident before getting to know her.

Ugh, I’m just like Mrs. Wentworth. Harry thought.

“Uhh… right, yeah, sorry,” he shook his head and hurried for the door. He grabbed it and allowed her through. Behind them, the driver was still stacking boxes on the sidewalk. She pulled the cart behind her, it stuck a bit on the lip of the door frame and she huffed as she exerted a little more energy to get it over the entryway.

“This is going to be such a pain,” she frowned and whispered it to herself.

God, she was cute.

No, no she’s not, stop it. Harry shook his head, moved behind his desk and found the appropriate paperwork and whatnot. “Sign here,” he stated and handed the pen to her. She skimmed over the words; it wasn’t a contract or anything. That was all sent electronically. This was just acknowledgement that Harry handed off her keys.

“I know we just met and all and you don’t have to stand over it or anything, but could you keep an eye on the boxes he leaves on the sidewalk? I just have to run up to my apartment and drop these off. I’ll be right back down,” she looked at him expectantly. Her eyebrows knit together just a bit, and she looked a little nervous, like Harry was going to say no. And he could. She was right. It wasn’t in his job description.

Was it hot in the lobby? Did he turn the heat up too high since it was colder outside? He felt warm as she spoke to him and maybe a little nervous himself. He didn’t like that she was pouting. It seemed genuine. She seemed… lost. There was no one there except for her. Did any of Alden’s family live near by? He couldn’t remember. “You don’t have to fight anyone over it either. I grabbed all the important ones first,” she said quickly. Like that would be the deciding factor for him.

“You’re moving your stuff in?” He realized by then, but it was like he needed confirmation.

She tilted her head. “Well, yeah…”

“What about the driver?”

She turned to look out at the sidewalk briefly before turning back to him with a shrug. “He’s going elsewhere. More pickups, I think. I paid him a little extra to help get the stuff off the truck but I’m on my own here.”

“Oh,” he shook his head. “I’ll… I’ll keep an eye on it.”

“Yeah?!” She sighed with relief. “Thank you, Mr. Styles. Seriously, I appreciate it so much,” she said gratefully and placed the pen back on the paper she signed. He handed her the key to her apartment and then she all but skipped over to the elevator with relief that Harry was going to help her.

Harry realized too late that he was once more not doing his job. He all but ran across the lobby to smack the button before she could. He needed to be a little useful to this woman. Anything would be better than standing there with his mouth halfway to the floor in awe of her.

“You can call me Harry if you want,” he mumbled.

She smiled waiting patiently for the elevator to ascend. “It’s really whatever you would prefer.”

For a brief moment he considered keeping it the utmost professional. But she was young and Harry was lonely and she was moving in all by herself so maybe she was a little lonely too. “Harry is fine,” he said very softly.

“Great,” she grinned brightly. She tucked the strand of pretty, soft looking hair behind her ear that was pulled from the bun she had artfully affixed to the back of her head. “Thank you again, Harry.”

“My pleasure, really. Welcome to Kingsley Place,” he nodded, just as the elevator chimed with its arrival. He held the door open (not that it was going to close any time soon, but he wanted to make sure she was safely inside with all her belongings before it shut) and let her pass across its threshold.

“Harry?” She asked gently.

“Yes?” He pressed the twelfth-floor button.

“What apartment number am I?”

He smirked. “12A, Miss.”

“12A,” she repeated. Harry noticed it sounded like a bird singing a song first thing in the morning. “I’ll be right back,” she took a deep breath and Harry stepped back as the elevator doors closed.

He stared at where she was standing just moments ago. She was moving in on her own. She didn’t even know which apartment she was living in. Harry knew next to nothing about her and yet there was some long-forgotten familiarity to her. Something that he couldn’t quite place that made him feel a little lighter.

Was he having a bad morning? He couldn’t remember.

“Who was that?” He spun on his heel and saw Niall making his way to the office behind the front desk to hang up his coat. He dressed a bit differently than Harry did, but still looked professional. Harry heard the jingle of his keys as he hooked them on his belt loop and strapped his tool belt around his hips. Harry returned to the door and watched as the driver moved the last of her items on the ground. Harry gave a nod to him and watched him depart from the curb.

“New resident.”

“Alden’s niece?” He asked from behind him. He grabbed the clipboard off the desk and scanned the orders that Harry printed off when he got to the office. Niall had a busy day ahead of him. Harry nodded watching the stuff on the sidewalk like it might suddenly disappear. “I think I caught a glimpse of her. Cute. Is that her stuff?” Harry nodded silently keeping a steady gaze on her items. “You alright?”

He nodded again. “Jus’ keeping an eye on her stuff.”

“Hmm,” Niall tilted his head at his best friend. “That’s nice of you.”

“Would y’mind helping me move it into the lobby?”

He snorted. “Oh?” He quirked an eyebrow at his friend. Harry stared at him. “You’ve got it bad,” Niall chuckled quietly.

“Got what bad?” Harry turned to glare at him.

He held the clipboard up like it was a shield. “Nothing, nothing at all. Just didn’t know you would break the rules for someone.”

“She’s all alone moving all her things,” he mumbled.

“That’s a nice change of pace,” Niall agreed. He and Niall talked at length, how differently the other half lived—the kind of wealth that they would never understand. Harry and Niall worked hard. Always. They believed some of their residents hadn’t worked a day in their lives.

“Will y’help or not?”

Niall chuckled again but followed Harry outside and started grabbing boxes to carry through the door to stack near the chairs in the lobby. He didn’t block any seats, didn’t block the mailboxes, or anything that could annoy other residents.

“She told off Mrs. Wentworth,” Harry mumbled with the thought of annoyed residents.

“Oh, you’re going to marry the fuck out of her,” Niall laughed loudly. Harry was grateful they were outside so none of the residents heard him.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I am not.”

“You’re bringing her boxes inside.”

Harry ignored his friend and continued moving boxes in as quickly as he could. The elevator signaled her arrival (although he realized after the fact it really could have been any of the residents, but he chose not to read into it) and he was right. She reappeared with her empty cart and that extremely bright smile of hers filled her very pretty face. “Oh, that’s so kind of you, but don’t feel like you have to, I know it’s not your job,” she said sweetly. “Thank you, Harry. Really.”

“I helped too!” His best friend pouted entering from outside once more.

She laughed this beautiful, sweet sound that Harry was in awe of; that long-forgotten feeling continued bubbling inside of him. “Nice to meet you,” she held her hand out and Harry was extremely jealous that Mrs. Wentworth and Niall were getting to hold her hand (no matter how briefly).

“If you need anything let Harry or I know. He’ll make sure I fix it,” he assured her. “I’d love to stay and help, but I’ve got a busy schedule,” he explained. “Harry would be happy to help you, still though,” he said and boarded the elevator to start his day.

Niall made kissy faces at Harry as the doors closed and Harry ignored him completely.

“I jus’ figured it’d be easier t’watch your stuff if it was inside the building. So, I could keep working on m’actual stuff,” he wondered if he sounded a little colder to her. He felt like he did. He was trying hard to keep a boundary that he feared was slipping away very quickly.

She nodded; her kind smile was full of gratitude still despite his prickliness. She was so pretty looking, and she didn’t look bothered that she was alone and moving all by herself. “Well thank you Harry. I was more worried about it on the street. This is really a huge help. Don’t trouble yourself with anything else. I’ll get this out of here in no time,” she began stacking more boxes on her cart as she spoke and it was filled within moments. “I’ll be spending most of the day unpacking, so hopefully I won’t bother you or anyone else once I’m upstairs.”

“Right, sure. That sounds good,” he muttered. Was he upset that he wouldn’t see her much once her boxes were gone? Maybe he could ‘hide’ one and ‘find’ it and bring it to her…

She stacked a few more boxes on her cart. “Well, if I don’t see you later, have a nice day, Harry. Thank you again.”

He watched her get on the elevator once more. He held it open until he knew she was safely inside with all her belongings. “Have a nice day, Miss,” he said gently. That pretty smile disappeared behind the closing doors and she ascended to the twelfth floor.

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