The sweet buttery scent of fresh pastries wafted through the small town bakery as the bell above the door tinkled, announcing a new patron. The counter was being stocked by soft-spoken Sarah, a familiar face in every neighborhood kitchen. She carefully placed the last of the morning’s éclairs into their glass display case and turned to see the new customer. Beside her, the old man, whose many stories with her had made him a beloved figure in the town, watched her every move with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Good morning, Sarah," he whispered, a sly smile on his face. "A little toast for breakfast, table for two?" Sarah's smile matched his. "Of course, Mr. Hargrove," she replied, stepping back to let the old man take the seat opposite her. He nodded, his eyes scanning the bakery as if he could sense the secrets hidden in every corner. "The town feels different today, doesn't it? Been a while since that new building took that spot at the end of Main Street." Sarah laughed softly. "Yes, though it blends in beautifully. Tells you a lot about change, eh?" Their chuckles shared a comfortable silence before Mr. Hargrove leaned forward, lowering his voice. "Tell me, Sarah, when you’re baking your world-famous cherry pie tonight – the one that's almost a secret around here – any peculiarity you've noticed? You mention the laughter, smells of joy mixed with something... indefinable?" “Just how the world is, Mr. Hargrove," Sarah replied with a wink. "Incredible things happen in the small hours, in the most unassuming places, like the bakery." He's left with a knowing nod before he sauntered out under the door, leaving Sarah with a curious sense of anticipation hanging as thick as the icing on the pastries.