The bell above the door chimed merrily as another customer entered, the scent of warm cinnamon rolls clinging to their coat. "Goodness, that looks good," a voice sighed, eyes widening at the display case. "I haven't had a proper cinnamon roll in ages." "They're fresh out of the oven," another voice chuckled. "Made this morning with my grandmother's recipe, just like she used to make." "I bet they're delicious. You know, I haven't seen you around here before. New in town?" "You could say that. Just moved into the old Victorian on Maple Street. Heard the bakery was the best in town, so I had to come check it out." "Maple Street, eh? That place has seen better days. Last resident was a bit of a character, let me tell you." "Oh?" "Always kept to herself, never spoke to anyone. Then one day, she just vanished. Poof! Gone. Some folks say she ran off with a travelling salesman, others say she met with an...accident." A nervous laugh. "That's quite a story. Maybe she just moved to a place with even better cinnamon rolls." "Maybe." A pause, then a conspiratorial whisper. "Or maybe she didn't leave at all. Just disappeared..."