In the small town bakery, the aroma of fresh bread wafted through the air, mingling with the chatter of the morning crowd. The bell above the door jingled as a newcomer entered. The baker lifted her eyes, eyebrow arched as she examined the newcomer from head to toe. Her hands never stopped moving, measuring flour into a large container. "Morning," the newcomer said, their eyes scanning the display case. "I heard this is the best place for a slice of apple pie." The baker smiled, momentarily releasing the pressure on the dough she was kneading. "Depends on who you ask, I suppose. My pies are legendary around here." "Can't wait to taste it." The newcomer selected a slice and picked up a cup of coffee from the counter. "That'll be three ninety-five," the baker said, reaching for the cash register. As the newcomer forked a bite of pie, their eyes widened. "Wow, this is fantastic!" "Thank you, I make it myself," the baker replied, now shaping the dough into a loaf. "What brings you to our little town?" "Just passing through. Needed to stretch my legs." The newcomer sighed, the first hint of mystery creeping into their voice. "Had to see the famous bakery everyone talks about." The bell jingled again, drowning out the rest of the conversation. The baker exchanged a knowing glance with her employee, whose eyes darted between the newcomer and the exit. As the door closed behind the stranger, they shared a shared look. "Finish the day's baking, I'll finish up out front," the employee whispered. The baker wiped her hands on her apron. "Time to peek into that pie-eater's background…" she muttered, curiosity getting the better of her.