The gentle chime of the bell rang out as the bakery door swung open, letting in a brisk autumn breeze. The sweet aroma of cinnamon and vanilla enveloped the room. “This place smells heavenly, doesn't it?” “It's my daily sanctuary. Have you tried their pecan streusel muffins? Practically a spiritual experience.” “Considering how often you come here, I'm surprised there's not a pastry named after you yet.” “Speaking of which, do you see anything odd about that gentleman?” “The one by the display case? He’s just admiring the éclairs, I suppose.” “He’s been standing there for ages. No one takes that long to choose a pastry.” “Perhaps he’s overwhelmed by choice.” “Or perhaps he’s pretending to be. Look at his shoes—exquisite and polished. Not the usual fare for these parts.” “Interesting observation. You think he's not from around here?” “Certainly not. Watch as he checks the time again. Looks to me like he's waiting for someone.” “Should we invite him over? Maybe he’s lost.” “I'd rather we wait and see. This could turn into something—” “An unexpected adventure?” “Something like that. Now, don’t look too eager; we don’t want him to suspect we’re onto him.” “We’re in a bakery full of people. How suspicious can two people sharing the last lemon scone really be?”