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I spend the rest of lunch telling everyone about what types of bread and donuts I’ll be making for the display case against the back wall and all of the goodies that I’m planning on stocking in the front display cases.
“Can you show me how to make bread?” Brennan asks hopefully. “Then we could make our own garlic bread!” he says, turning excitedly to Patrick who looks like he wants to object.
From what I’ve heard, Brennan has been making pasta and garlic bread. A lot. I’m sure that he’s sick of eating it over and over again.
“Of course I can,” I say, shooting an evil smirk at Patrick. “I can even teach you how to make your own pasta!”
Brennan’s eyes light up, but Patrick looks like he’s just lost the will to live.
They finish installing the oven and mixer and I head into the kitchen to check them out. My eyes start to water when I see that the bakery is finally complete. I ordered the sign for outside and to be etched on the door and front window last night, but it will be another few days before either get here.
I haven’t told Eli that I finally came up with a name for the bakery. He was actually the one to inspire it. It’s simple and clean, but also reminds me of home. I’m sure that my grams would approve of it too.
Eli, Patrick, and Brennan help me reset the tables and chairs and I give them all a quick tour of the kitchen and tiny office. Brennan is fascinated by everything, even my tiny cramped office and the employee bathroom that looks like it could use some work.
“I brought you something,” Eli says as we head back out into the main room.
“What?”
“It’s out in the truck,” he says and I’m not sure if Patrick, Brennan, or I am more excited.
I grab my coat, bundling up as I follow him outside and around the corner to where he’s parked.
“You’ve been inside so much lately. I thought that we could go do something outside. Get some fresh air,” Eli says as he hands me a rolled-up pair of black snow pants.
“I have no idea how to ski. If that’s what you had in mind,” I say as I hold the pants up to my waist. Perfect fit.
“We can go sledding!” Brennan says excitedly, already turning to Patrick with puppy dog eyes.
“Sure,” he says right away, like we all knew that he would. “I’ll have to head home and grab our snow gear and the sleds.”
“We’ll lock up here and meet you at the hill,” Eli says and they both take off toward Patrick’s SUV.
I hurry inside, kicking off my boots and tugging the puffy snow pants up. Eli makes sure that all of the lights are off and that the back door is locked.
“How do I look?” I ask, holding my arms out wide and spinning in a circle.
“Like you’re ready to sled.”
“I’ve never been sledding before either,” I admit.
“Really?”
“It doesn’t snow much in Atlanta or in Georgia in general. Even if it did, there aren’t that many hills to do it on,” I tell him as we lock the front door and make our way back to his truck.
Eli explains the finer points of sledding to me as we head out of the city and toward the mountains. It seems easy enough, just put your feet inside, hang on tight, and lean left or right to steer. I’m feeling pretty good about it.
And then I see the “hill.”
“It’s so big!” I say as Eli parks off to the side in the little gravel lot.
There are a few other families here, but the place is big enough that I’m not worried that we’ll be running over each other on the way down.
Patrick and Brennan pull in a few minutes later and we hop out. They’re both all bundled up and I wonder how Brennan can even move with all those layers.
“Ready to go?” Patrick asks and I can see that he’s just as excited about this as Brennan is.
Eli helps him grab the sleds out of the back of his SUV and I help Brennan make his way over to the base of the hill. The guys join us as we start to trek up the hill. Eli tucks the sled under his arm and grabs my mittened hand with his.
