Long after I was gone, the grey haired man shook his head, staring up the stairs then to the closed front door before wandering back into the kitchen.
I dove headlong into my car, bringing the engine to life as I sped down the gravel path away from Sebastian's huge house. The building lingered for a mile down the road in my rearview mirror, always watching.
Fortunately enough for me, I arrived at the bakery before the huge rush had begun for the day. I sat in my car, gazing at the storefront, only one little light on in the back office. It felt like old times again, when my father would stay up all night working on the office books.
The road in front of the shop was peaceful and calm, though I doubted it would stay that way for long.
I walked towards the front door of the shop, peering in through the darkened glass. I didn't think my ego could take another hit of not being recognized when I walked in the back door.
Surprisingly enough, the front door, however, was locked. I hadn't even realized the front lock still worked, though, then again, Alissa would definitely have taken care of that.
I peered again through the glass, rapping lightly on the door.
Seconds later, I heard the click of the lock popping open, door pushing out for me.
"Good morning, Mrs. Davis!" Lewis said cheerily, cup of steaming coffee in his hand, "Come on in."
The tall blond man stepped to the side, holding the door open for me as I walked in.
"It's Macy, Lewis." I sighed, still unsure how the sound of 'Davis' made me feel.
"Right, of course." The manager murmured, locking the door once it closed again.
"Aren't you all preparing for opening?" I asked curiously, checking my watch.
At the very least, the ovens should be preparing for the first morning's serving of lemon scones.
Lewis cleared his throat uncomfortably, smoothing a straight blond lock of hair out of his green eyes.
"Didn't...didn't Mr. Davis talk to you?" He finally asked, "I just assumed..."
"What did Sebastian say?" I asked, frustration coloring my voice.
Had I angered Sebastian the night before? Had he pulled all funding from the shop just to spite me?
He was going to get a strong piece of my mind. I wished I'd remembered that phone he'd purchased for me, so I could call him up and chew him out right this second.
"He said to close until you got a chance to review everything." Lewis continued, "I just figured that you talked to him about your ideas."
"Wait, what?" I sputtered, surprised.
That blue eyed man was full of surprises.
"He said you'd look over the policies and recipes and to make any changes you requested." The blond man reiterated, walking back towards the office and gesturing me to follow.
On the desk, where the neatly organized pile of notebooks had been piled before, they were now open and scattered about. It was frightfully reminiscent of my father's messy desk - though lacking the overdue notices.
"I tried to pull all the important information but there's just so much of it." Lewis sighed, taking a sip of his coffee, "Where do you want to start?"
I walked to the desk, slapping shut one of the notebooks, "We're going to start over." I said, smirk tugging the corners of my lips, "Just you and me, Lewis."
The man leaned against the wall, breathing a sigh of relief, "Thank God." He mused, "I thought I was going to be out of a job when I got the news."
I laughed, shaking my head, "No, of course not. But the other staff, what happened to them?"
I glanced curiously towards the front door, where no cashiers or bakers entered.
"They were given a pension and put in contact with other employers." Lewis shrugged, "I wasn't too worried...but, I really like it here, to be honest." He mumbled, a bit embarrassed, "The feel of this shop, it's so warm."
"I know." I responded, fingers brushing the oak of the desk, "That’s what I want to preserve. My parents loved this place, I want everyone else to love it as well."
Walking past him, I turned to the counter, kneeling down to dig through the cabinet below the cash register. There, stuffed in the back, were my mother's recipes.
I pulled them out, flicking through the pages, "What should we make first?" I asked, turning to Lewis.
There seemed like no better place to start than practicing a recipe or two.
The handsome blond stopped mid sip of his coffee, green eyes staring at me blankly. After a long moment's hesitation he lifted his mouth from the mug, "Uh, what do you mean?" He asked, frowning.
"What should we make first?" I repeated, slowly this time. Was Lewis feeling okay?
"I can't...make anything." He mumbled, embarrassment beginning to turn his neck red, "I just tell people what to do."