Slices of warm bread loafed on the counter, inviting passersby to stop and indulge. The bell above the door jingled as Alison stepped into the quaint bakery. She inhaled the comforting aroma of coffee and cinnamon rolls, the perfect blend for a lazy Saturday morning. "Business booming this morning, isn't it?" She glanced at Mrs. Kravitz, the baker, who wiped flour off her apron with a satisfied smile. "Indeed, it is, dear. I hear there's a little get-together at Old Thompson's place later. Things will surely pick up." Just then, a local farmer strolled in, his boots leaving a mild cloud of dust at the threshold. "Mrs. Kravitz, do you fancy some fresh eggs? I brought two dozen down this morning." How delightful, Alison thought. Small town charm at its finest. "Those will surely come in handy, Joseph. The Thompsons are right up your alley, aren't they?" Joseph laughed good-naturedly, "Well, they do make a mean apple pie." Alison chuckled, picking up a loaf of crusty bread as she pondered the day ahead. Life was simple yet pleasant here, a welcomed retreat from the hustle and bustle of city life. "Could I interest you in one of our apple pies, Ms. Jackson? On the house, of course." Mrs. Kravitz extended the pie towards Alison, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Alison accepted the pie with thanks, "How thoughtful of you, Mrs. Kravitz. After all, what's a small town gathering without a good ol' apple pie?"