In the warm embrace of cinnamon and sugar, the bell over the door chimed as another regular pushed inside, dusting snow from his coat. “Seen the paper today? Another odd thing turned up at the Winter Festival. An antique locket in Mrs. Thompson’s blueberry pie.” “Again? Last year it was that old watch in the cornbread, right? How do these things keep happening?” “The whole town’s buzzing. They’re calling it the Festival Phantom. I think it’s just old Ted playing tricks again.” “Could be, but Ted’s been in Florida since last month. You think he’d fly back just to stir up trouble?” “Who knows? Maybe it’s a sign we should all heed. Some message from the past, tangled up in pastry and sugar.” “Heed? Come now, you’re starting to sound like one of those mystery books. Maybe you’re the phantom, crafting stories to scare us all!” “I wish. No, my craft is more flour and butter than ghosts and goblins. Anyway, how about a scone? Might help piece together this puzzle.” “Alright, but make it two. A mystery’s always better with company and a full stomach.”