The scent of fresh cinnamon rolls filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of the old espresso machine. Behind the counter, a woman wiped her flour-dusted hands on her apron, glancing up as the bell above the door jingled. “I swear, if one more person asks for gluten-free lemon bars, I might just open a bakery in another town.” “That’s because you’ve set the standard too high. People expect nothing less than perfection from Millie’s.” A soft chuckle. “Perfection is exhausting. Maybe I should just sell bread shaped like little animals. Less demand for fancy ingredients.” “Imagine a baguette-bunny. Perfect for Easter, or any random Tuesday.” “Not a bad idea. But don’t get me started on the supply runs. Yesterday, the delivery truck got stuck in the mud, and I ended up pushing it myself.” “You? Pushing a truck? I’d have paid to see that.” “You’d have laughed, I was covered head to toe in mud. Maybe that’s the real secret—baking with a little dirt smudged on your face.” “The town loves you for it, Millie. Honestly, no one could bake quite like you do.” A pause, then a soft sigh. “Guess it’s worth the mess after all.”