The air was thick with the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread and sweet pastries as the bakery bustled with morning customers. A young woman with a determined gaze entered the shop, her eyes scanning the quaint interior. She approached the counter, where an elderly gentleman with flour-dusted hands was arranging an array of cookies on a tray. "Good morning! I was told you might have some information for me." "Ah, you must be the detective I heard about. Please, take a seat. We've got a batch of cinnamon rolls coming out, and I insist you try one. They're my specialty, you know." She obliged, taking a seat by the window. "I won't say no to one of those. But I'm on a mission to find an heir to Mrs. Wilson's fortune. I understand you know the family." He chuckled, "Indeed. Their favorite treat was always my lemon tarts. They'd come every Saturday without fail. I heard about the will and the mystery surrounding it. It's quite the talk around here." She leaned forward, "Any ideas who the heir might be?" With a wink, he whispered, "I might have a clue, but you'll have to wait until after the morning rush. The answer might be sweeter than you think."