Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKA080Q8M6VR200N37SRC9Q

“Tell me you didn’t put the lemon bars in the front case.” “They needed sunshine. Also, people buy with their eyes.” “People buy with their stomachs. And their stomachs don’t like gossip.” “The gossip is free. The lemon bars are not.” A bell chimed as the door opened, letting in a draft that smelled of rain and lilacs. The display lights hummed over rows of croissants and sugar-dusted muffins, all too cheerful for the news that had crept down Main Street. “Did you hear? The mayor’s vase shattered on the library steps.” “I heard it shattered after someone ‘tripped.’ Funny, though—no one saw the trip.” “Everyone saw the mayor’s face.” Flour smudged a thumb across the counter, leaving a pale crescent. A tray of cinnamon rolls cooled beside the register, their icing setting like glossy secrets. “If you’re going to tell me it’s sabotage, do it quietly. Mrs. Phelps is in the corner pretending to read the specials.” “She’s reading them. She just wants to know if the scones are ‘new’ or ‘new because you burned the old batch.’” “That was one time.” “One time that smelled like betrayal.” A pause, then a softer voice. “You found something, didn’t you?” “Under the broken vase. A button. Bakery white. Not from an apron.”