The sun-drenched bakery bustled with morning activity as the sweet aroma of freshly-baked croissants filled the air. Margie wiped her flour-dusted hands on her apron and surveyed the nearly empty display cases. "Right on schedule. I think that'll hold us till midday when the lunch rush comes." "Well, better stock up then," Selma replied, loading a tray of warm scones into the case next to the ciabatta. "Little bit of gossip - heard Edna Thompson's at it again, trying to buy up old man Jasper's place." "Edna's always been a greedy one. I bet she only wants it for that prime spot on Maple, figures she can raze it and put in one of her cheesy gift shops. That woman has no sense of history or pride." "Tell me about it. Probably just wants to compete with the antique dealers on the square." Margie narrowed her eyes. "You know, I overheard Jasper in here last week mumbling how he was tired of her pestering. Said if that's all the appreciation he gets after 40 years on Maple, maybe he oughta teach her a lesson." Selma paused, scone in hand. "Teach her a lesson? What's he mean by that?" "Knowing Jasper, could mean anything. Stubborn old miser... maybe he'll raze it himself, just to spite her." Suddenly, the bell over the door jangled as a customer entered. "Morning ladies!" Ike called out, ambling over. "You're putting up a new 'Sold By' sign - who bought the old Jasper place?" Margie and Selma shared a knowing look before Margie replied, "No one's bought it. Why?" Ike leaned in with a conspiratorial whisper. "Old Pete's been telling tales at the diner - Jasper's gone missing! Says he hasn't seen him since Tuesday." Selma's eyebrows shot up. "missing? Jasper?" Ike nodded. "Yup. Some say Edna's looking all over creation for him. I always knew that one was trouble - mark my words, she's mixed up in this." Margie sighed heavily. "Even if Jasper's gone, you can't seriously think..." "Stranger things have happened 'round here," Ike said, retrieving his glazed donuts. "Say, any of those sweet rolls left? The cinnamon swirl kind?" "You know it," Margie said, momentarily distracted from the unease creeping up her spine. As she bent to retrieve the desired pastry, a perky bell rang out again. The door swung wide. Edna Thompson herself swept into the bakery, designer heels clicking on tile, Chanel suit immaculate. "Afternoon, ladies," she chirped. "Is Jasper about? It's ever so urgent I speak with him immediately." Margie and Selma tensed, exchanging uneasy glances. "Haven't seen him," Margie replied carefully. "Well, how peculiar..." Edna murmured, looking "concerned." "He was to sign papers today! I do hope he's alright..." The two bakers watched as Edna swept out, the tension palpable. "Watch her," Selma muttered once the door clacked shut. "That one's up to no good. And Jasper's in over his head." Margie bit her lip. A disappearance in sleepy Millpond? It seemed unfathomable. Yet one thing was clear: It was up to Margie and Selma to get to the bottom of this mess before outside trouble - or worse - came to roost.