The bell above the door chimed, letting in a gust of crisp autumn air and a few scattered leaves. "You’re late. I was about to lock the register." "Can’t a man admire the window display? Those pumpkin scones are a work of art." "They’re for the Fall Festival committee, so hands off. You’re not on the list." "Maybe I should be. Especially if it gets me first pick of the pastries. Besides, I heard a rumor that the committee might be short a member after what happened to Mrs. Higgins." "Keep your voice down. The mayor is in the back checking on the cake order." "Oh, I know. That’s why I’m here. Did you see the look on his face when he walked in? Like he’d swallowed a lemon seed whole." "He’s just stressed about the election. It’s a busy time of year." "Stressed? Or guilty? I saw his sedan parked down by the creek last night. Odd time for a nature walk, wouldn't you say?" "It’s a public road. Maybe he was just thinking." "Thinking about how to explain the mud on his tires? We haven't had rain in weeks, but the creek bank is pure sludge." "Here. Take a scone. Maybe it will stop you from talking." "Blackmailing me with baked goods? I thought better of you." "Take two. And get out of here before you cause a scene."