"The lemon tarts are missing again." "Third time this week. You checked the cooling rack by the window?" "Empty. And I specifically counted them before unlocking the front door this morning. Twelve perfect tarts, all lined up in a row like soldiers." "Maybe Mrs. Henderson came early? She does love her citrus pastries, especially since the surgery." "Her walker always leaves tracks in the flour by the threshold. There’s nothing there except my own footprints and a trail of cinnamon from the sticky buns." "Then someone’s sneaking in through the back alley during the lunch rush." "I checked the deadbolt myself after the morning rush. Untouched. No windows broken, no flour dust disturbed on the sill." "You think it’s an inside job?" "I think my new apprentice has sticky fingers. Or rather, sticky lemon curd on her apron that she tried to hide behind the bread flour." "The quiet one with the knitting needles who sorts the blueberries?" "She’s been here five days. Five days of missing pastries, and yesterday she asked about the wall safe while frosting the red velvet." "The one with your grandmother’s secret recipes?" "The very same. Said she was 'just curious' about the combination while staring at the portrait of Great-Aunt Mildred." "Oh dear." "Exactly. Hand me that heavy marble rolling pin, will you? I need to check the consistency of this buttercream before I ask her to explain why she’s researching family heirlooms."