The oven’s chime rang, signaling the fresh batch of croissants. The scent of butter and yeast filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of conversation. "Did you hear about the Marlings? Their barn caught fire last night. Must have been a faulty wire." "Mmhmm, poor souls. I saw smoke rising when I was out walking Missy. Thought it was just a late-season fog. Thank goodness the fire department was quick." "Still, it’s quite a setback. You know how much Mr. Marling dotes on that old barn. It’s been in the family for generations." The door chimed, and a gust of cold air swept in. Papers on the counter rustled. "Speaking of which, have you seen the new arrival? Dr. Hawthorne, they say. Moved into the old Richardson place. Quite the mystery there, too, with her coming in the middle of the night." "Really? I wondered who that was. She seemed so quiet at the town meeting. Didn’t say much, just listened." "Maybe she’s just trying to get her bearings. Fresh start, you know? But I can’t help wondering what brought her here. Small towns have a way of revealing secrets, sooner or later." The baker emerged from the back, arms laden with trays of warm, golden pastries. The customers turned their attention to the selection, the conversation temporarily pausing as they chose their treats.