The bell over the door jingled softly as Margaret stepped inside, the warm aroma of cinnamon and freshly baked bread enveloping her. She spotted Clara behind the counter, carefully frosting a batch of lavender cupcakes. “I swear, Clara, these smell even better than last week,” Margaret said, gently settling her bag on the counter. Clara looked up, her eyes twinkling. “Well, that’s because I added just a pinch more vanilla. You know, I’ve been experimenting. Speaking of which, did you hear about the strange footprints outside Goldie’s barn?” Margaret tilted her head. “Footprints? No, I hadn’t. What kind of footprints?” “Small, but deep, right near the haystack. And oddly enough, they led straight toward the woods. Nobody saw anything, but everyone’s whispering about it.” Clara paused, frosting spatula in hand. “Could be a prank, or—” “Or someone’s up to no good,” Margaret finished, her brow furrowing. “That’s just the kind of trouble that could stir up around here. Maybe I should take a look after my shift.” Clara handed her a paper bag. “Here, try one of these cupcakes. On the house. And be careful; you never know who might be lurking around.”