Lucy woke up around 6:30 and took a quick refreshing shower. She brushed her hair and put it up in a ponytail. After getting dressed, in a simple t shirt, cardigan, and jeans, she packed her cooking bag. In went her personal professional cutlery set, including a stainless steel santoku knife, and a special tasting spoon, and her white apron.

After she mapped George's address, she realized that he lived on the outskirts of the town, further away than she expected. She quickly took her freshly filled to go coffee mug, slung her bag over her shoulder and headed down to the parking garage.

Lucy started the engine of her trusty old Honda, and pulled out of the apartment building lot.

She loved driving, and especially driving her little civic. This was the first thing she saved her own money for in High School. Her father was horrified at the prospect of his daughter driving around this "junk pile", and offered to buy Lucy a brand new BMW for her sweet 16th, but she refused. Instead of getting a luxury car for free, she decided to get a part-time job at a coffee shop, and over two years saved up enough for a downpayment on the used Honda.

This car had served Lucy well all through college, and now it seemed impossible to part with it, though it had well over 100,000 miles on it.

Lucy knew that her father admired her work ethic, and independence, but she also sensed that he felt she was rebelling against his control. But this is who Lucy was, an independent young woman, and she wanted to carve her own path in this world.

The drive to George's took about 45 minutes, and Lucy was starting to get worried that she may be late. Soon enough, the GPS instructed her that the destination would be coming up on her right, but Lucy couldn't see any houses. She checked the address again. There was nothing around but a bunch of tall oak trees, and lush land, rolling hills of green, seen for what seemed like miles. Then she looked up further up the road and spotted what appeared to be a gate. She drove up, and saw a giant wrought iron gate between two massive pillars.

"This can't be it," mouthed Lucy, looking around in confusion.

She parked the car on the side of the road, and walked up to the gate.

Near the gate she noticed a speaker box. Lucy tentatively pressed the intercom button.

"Hello?" she said into the box.

"Yes?" came a nasal reply.

"I'm looking for the Thornton residence," said Lucy.

"This is the Thornton residence, is this Miss Hartwell?"

"Yes, it is."

"We've been expecting you. Please drive in and park by the fourth garage on the left."

"I'm sorry, did you say fourth?"

"Yes. You will be greeted at the front of the house."

Lucy seemed a bit confused, "Alright," she stammered, and returned to her car. When she drove up, the gates had already been automatically opened.

As Lucy was driving up the long drive way, she was passing by beautiful gardens, filled with topiaries, and carefully manicured trees. What is this place? she thought to herself.

At last, the house, or it's probably more fitting to describe it as a mansion, came into view.

"Holy cow," said Lucy aloud. Though she herself grew up in the lap of luxury, and had stayed in some breathtaking residences all over the world, she was not prepared for this. She always thought of George as a poor widowed retiree, living alone in some humble home. She didn't know why she made that assumption, but now it started to make sense. His tips were always massive, she remembered.

The grandeur of this place was astounding. As though it were misplaced here, and really belonged in some Jane Austin novel.

Lucy remembered the parking instructions, and proceeded to the left of the grand facade of the house, where she saw several car garages. She pulled in front of a fourth one, and turned off her engine. Grabbing her bag out of the passenger seat, she locked her card door, feeling a bit silly, as she noticed a brand new Rolls Royce, Bentley, and a Mercedes S-class parked next to her. Like anyone would be tempted to steal my car, she thought.

Lucy walked to the front of the house, and climbed the marble steps leading up to the door, which was already opened.

As she entered, she saw a tall, thin, elderly man dressed in a suit approaching her.

"Miss Hartwell, I presume," said he through his nose.

"Yes, call me Lucy, please."

"I am Charles, Mr. Thornton's butler," said the man, offering his hand.

Lucy was about to shake it, but quickly realized he was reaching for her belongings when he said, "May I assist you with your bag, Miss Hartwell?"

"Oh, no, that's okay. I got it. And it's Lucy, please."

"Very well, Lucy," repeated Charles, as though it pained him. "Right this way, if you please."

Lucy entered the foyer, which was the size of her entire apartment. As Charles led her through the corridor, Lucy was looking at the variety of paintings and small sculptures displayed throughout the house. George definitely had a refined taste, a bit too opulent for Lucy, but somehow she could easily picture him in this setting.

"Lucy, dear, you're really here!" said George excitedly, as Charles ushered Lucy into a large room with a blazing fireplace. George was seated on the couch with one leg up elevated on a pillow.

"George, I'm sorry I am a little late," said Lucy, coming up to him.

"I'm just glad you're here. I see you met Charles, pleasant fellow, is he not?" said George sarcasm palpable.

"Yes, he was kind enough to show me in."

"I wish I could have come up to greet you, but you see just yesterday I took a bit of a fall, and injured my ankle. So now I have to be carried about like an invalid."

"Oh no, is there anything I can help with?" offered Lucy.

"Don't worry about me. My grandson, Chase, will be here shortly. He'll take care of my needs."

"Well, let me know if I can do anything," repeated Lucy.

"You could cook me something delicious?" suggested George.

"With pleasure. Is it too late for breakfast? Or should I just get started on some soup?"

"Soup would be divine," said George, as his face relaxed into a smile.

"Just show me the way to the kitchen," said Lucy enthusiastically.

"Right this way, Miss..uh, Lucy," said Charles, gesturing Lucy down the hall.

Lucy followed the butler, happy to get to work.