The scent of freshly baked croissants wafted through the air as the morning sunlight streamed through the windows of the cozy bakery. Behind the counter, Emma carefully placed a tray of golden brown scones into a glass case, her eyes scanning the bustling shop for potential customers. A group of chatting women clustered near the window, sipping lattes and nibbling on muffins. "I heard it was a shock, her passing so suddenly," one of the women said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's just a big blow to all of us," another woman replied, shaking her head. "She was such a fixture in this town. Always with a warm smile and a kind word." Emma's hands paused, the scones forgotten, as she listened in. She had known Margaret, the owner of the deceased woman, casually. Everyone in town did. They had come to the bakery for breakfast this morning, chattering about the news. "Oh, poor Jane," a third woman chimed in, "her daughter was at the store when it happened. She's going to need some support. Does anyone know if there's a fund set up for her?" As the women speculated about the circumstances of Margaret's death, Emma discreetly excused herself to step back into the kitchen, her mind whirling with thoughts of the mystery that had just unfolded in their small town.