The early morning sunlight filtered through the glass display case, highlighting rows of perfectly frosted cupcakes and gleaming fruit tarts. "Did you hear what happened at the festival committee meeting last night?" "No, I was up to my elbows in sourdough. What did Margaret do this time?" "It's not what Margaret did – it's what she found. Remember that antique trophy that went missing from the historical society?" "The one from the 1932 pie contest? Of course. They've been looking for it since spring." "Well, she swears she saw it sitting on Mayor Peterson's desk when she dropped off the permit paperwork." "No! The same Mayor Peterson who's been leading the search committee?" "The very one. And here's the strange part – when she mentioned it to his secretary, the trophy vanished within the hour." The whisk clinked against the metal bowl, punctuating the silence. "That's... interesting. Especially considering his grandmother was the runner-up in that contest." "Exactly. And you know what they say about history repeating itself." "Speaking of which, isn't he judging the heritage baking competition next week?" "Mmhmm. Maybe someone should keep a closer eye on the prizes this time around."