In the steady aroma of fresh bread and warm pastries, the bell above the door chimed softly. "Morning, Martha," a voice said, greeting the elderly baker who was just taking the first loaves out of the oven. "Good morning, Henry," she replied, wiping her hands on her apron. "Coffee's ready if you're here for it." "Wouldn't miss it," Henry said, heading towards the counter. "Something new in the bakery today?" Martha smiled, placing a tray of scones in front of him. "Just the usual. Your usual?" Henry chuckled, "Always. How's the little one?" Martha's face lit up. "She's growing like a weed. Said she wants to learn baking, too." Henry laughed, "Well, she should. You're a natural." Martha's laughter filled the small bakery, a melody of contentment amidst the morning bustle.