Relatively Part 1

Below is the beginning of a short story I am writing. Please let me know what you think.

If you were to visit a certain small town called Relatively and go down the wide, dusty lane called Friar, you would eventually pass a small hill rising nonchalantly from the otherwise flat, grassy countryside. You would, probably, pass by the hill, perhaps commenting on the bright yellow buttercups and purple lilacs springing up from the top of the hill, wondering how they managed to grow there without human help. You would continue along, absorbing the beauty of the tall, shady trees and wide, shimmering lakes along Friar Lane, until you reached wherever it was you were going.

However, in the unlikely event that you were to stop and further examine the hill, you might be surprised to find a little wooden door wedged into a circular hole in the side of it. And, if you knocked on this door, a small, bald little man in a navy blue suit with three red buttons up the front and a green-and-white striped handkerchief peeking out of the breast pocket would open it.
“Yes?” he would say, raising his eyebrows in curiosity, because very rarely would he have reason to open this door.

Upon inquiring as to who all lived beyond the little wooden door and how in the world they came to reside there, the man in the blue suit would cock his head and reply, “Why, sir (or madam), the honorable Cyrus McMayhem resides here, and he would be quite upset if he found out I was talking to you at this moment, so it would be best if you went on your way. I am terribly sorry.”

At this, most people would turn away, and, though the question of who this Cyrus McMayhem was might stay permanently in the back of their minds, they'd continue along their way.

Now, in the event that you happened to be a very inquisitive and perhaps slightly annoying kind of person, you probably would not leave; you’d sneak around back and discover a black door even smaller than the wooden one up front. Not wanting to be turned away again, you would not bother to knock; instead, you would try the doorknob and, finding the door to be unlocked, you would sneak inside and discover wonder and adventure far beyond the reaches of your imagination.

But, as I said, you would most likely go about your business, never giving the little hill adorned with buttercups and lilacs another thought.