Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKA2FJY8CDQKFHE8HAT4R7A

The Maple Street Bakery glowed with morning light; flour dust motes danced near the glass display as Evie adjusted her apron, tucking a stray strand of hair, and Lars leaned closer, scribbling a note in his weathered notebook. "That lemon curd glows like a sun in a jar today." "Glows and whispers, both, when the oven sighs and the clock yawns." "Maybe it's the town's appetite for secrets, not sugar." "Or maybe someone rearranged the recipe cards last night." "The back room key disappeared from the hook at closing." "Disappeared or borrowed, depending on who wants you to think." "If someone borrowed it, they left a trail in flour." "Or in the ledger, where yesterday's sale hides today." "You read ledgers like maps; I bake like a telescope." "Then let's map the trail. Start with the vanilla bean jars." "And check the note tucked behind the old family cookbook." "You mean the one with Alder's handwriting, the one I scanned?" "Exactly, and the margin scribbles—sometimes a hint, sometimes a lie." "We won't know until we test the theory with a fresh batch." "A batch that might reveal who tampered with the spice rack."