The morning sun streamed through the lace curtains, casting delicate patterns across the glass display case filled with fresh scones and cinnamon rolls. The bell above the door chimed softly. "You're here early. The blueberry muffins aren't even out of the oven yet." "I'm not here for muffins, Martha. I'm here about what happened at the garden club meeting last night." "News travels fast in Maple Creek." "Edna Pemberton collapsed right into the hydrangea arrangement. That's not something people keep quiet about." "She's fine. Doctor said it was just her blood pressure acting up again." "That's not what I heard. Betty from the post office said there was something suspicious in her tea." The wooden spoon paused mid-stir over a bowl of buttercream frosting. A dusting of flour settled onto the worn countertop. "Betty should mind her own business." "Were you there when it happened?" "I was cutting the lemon bars. Why?" "Because someone saw you hand Edna that teacup. The same someone who noticed you two arguing outside the pharmacy last Tuesday." The oven timer rang, sharp and insistent, filling the sudden silence between them.