The cinnamon scent hung thick in the air as flour dust caught the morning sunlight. "I'm telling you, Margaret was acting strange at the church social last Thursday." "Strange how? She always clutches that handbag like it contains the crown jewels." "Not that kind of strange. Nervous strange. She kept looking at the door every five minutes, like she was expecting someone." "Or avoiding someone." "Exactly! And when I mentioned the missing donation money, she practically dropped her tea." "Half the congregation dropped their tea. It's quite the scandal." "But Margaret's on the finance committee. She'd have access to the safe." "So would Pastor Jim, the church secretary, and three other committee members. Are we suspecting all of them over a splash of Earl Grey?" "I suppose you're right. Still, there's something off. Did you notice she's been wearing new clothes lately? Rather expensive-looking ones." "Maybe she's treating herself. Harold's been gone two years now. Perhaps she's finally coming out of mourning." "Perhaps. Or perhaps someone should look into where she got the money for that cashmere coat." "Another maple scone?" "Don't mind if I do."