The sweet aroma of freshly baked croissants wafted through the cozy bakery, mingling with the gentle hum of chatter and the clinking of cups. The morning sunlight streaming through the window cast a warm glow on the rustic wooden tables and the scattering of patrons. "I heard the Jenkins' farmstand was vandalized again last night." "Terrible, just terrible. Those kids and their pranks." "But what's the point of knocking over a whole stand of ripe tomatoes? It's not like they're going to sell them on the black market." "Maybe it's not about the vegetables. Maybe it's about sending a message." "What kind of message?" "Who knows? Maybe someone's trying to stir up trouble. We've had a lot of newcomers in town lately." "Tourists, you mean?" "Not just tourists. I'm talking about the new family that moved into the old Miller place. I heard they're from the city." "Oh, them. I've seen the wife around town, always smiled and said hello. Seemed nice enough." "Yeah, but what do we really know about them?"