The bell above the door rang out, and the heavenly aroma of freshly baked bread enveloped the newcomer. The bakery bustled with the morning rush, the sounds of chatter and clinking cups mingling with the sweet scent of pastries. "Did you hear about poor Mabel?" "I heard she tripped on her own feet." "No, no, it was the cat." "What cat?" "The one she rescued from the shelter last week." "She never should have gotten that animal. It has a history." "It's not as though she knew." "Maybe she should have done some research." "I just hope it's not serious." "Me too, I love her apple pie." "Me three, it's the best in town." "I think Mr. Jenkins might argue with that." "Speaking of which, I heard he's been seen sneaking into Agnes's house a lot lately." "Oh? What's going on there?" "Who knows, but if he's trying to get his hands on her famous cinnamon rolls, he's got another thing coming."