Dean smelled the pastries before he saw Sarah.
He was leaning over a motorcycle fuel tank when the scent of cinnamon and butter drifted through the open office door.
He looked up.
Then grinned.
“Well, now.”
Sarah stood beside the counter, holding the boxes.
“Is Marcus here?”
Dean wiped his hands.
“Depends. Are those for us?”
She laughed.
“I suppose.”
“Then he's definitely here.”
Marcus appeared from the back room carrying a stack of invoices.
He stopped when he saw her.
“Sarah?”
She smiled nervously.
“Hi.”
He glanced toward the parking lot.
“Car giving trouble?”
“No.”
His expression relaxed.
“Good.”
Sarah placed the boxes on the counter.
“These are from the bakery.”
Marcus frowned.
“For what?”
She looked toward him.
“For helping us.”
He opened one box.
Inside were twelve enormous cinnamon rolls covered in a thin vanilla glaze.
Dean made a sound of appreciation.
Luis appeared from behind a tool cabinet.
“Is that Sunrise?”
Sarah nodded.
“Yes.”
Luis grinned.
“My grandmother loves those.”
Marcus looked toward Sarah.
“You didn't have to do this.”
She smiled faintly.
“I know.”
The answer surprised him.
She continued.
“I wanted to.”
For a moment, Marcus didn't speak.
Then he nodded.
“Well, thank you.”
Dean had already found a paper napkin.
Marcus pointed toward him.
“Don't eat all of them.”
Dean looked offended.
“I'm a professional.”
Luis laughed.
Sarah watched the men gather around the counter.
There was something ordinary and comforting about the scene.
Grease-stained mechanics.
Fresh pastries.
A radio playing softly in the back.
And no one asking how she'd managed to afford the boxes.
Marcus took one cinnamon roll.
He examined it.
Then looked toward her.
“You make these?”
She nodded.
“Yes.”
He took a bite.
For a moment, his eyes widened.
Dean laughed.
“Told you Sunrise's were good.”
Marcus swallowed.
Then pointed toward Sarah.
“You're responsible for these?”
She smiled.
“Yes.”
He looked toward the pastry again.
“Good Lord.”
Sarah began laughing.
For a moment, she forgot her embarrassment.
Then Marcus asked about Ethan.
“He's at school. Told me to say hello.”
Marcus smiled.
“Tell him I said hello back.”
She nodded.
Then hesitated.
“There was something else.”
Marcus looked up.
Sarah took a breath.
“I want to pay you back somehow.”
He began shaking his head.
“Sarah—”
“Not because I think you expect it.”
She held his gaze.
“Because I want to contribute something.”
For a moment, Marcus studied her.
Then he leaned against the counter.
“What did you have in mind?”
Sarah looked around the garage.
The office desk was covered with invoices.
A stack of unopened envelopes sat beside the telephone.
Several customer records were filed in boxes that looked as though they had been organized by gravity rather than any deliberate system.