Run: 2026-02-16-01KHKA5819MRW6M156RZGXASXH

The bell over the door chimed like someone announcing dessert. Do you ever think the town would survive if you started giving out secrets with the scones? Only if the secrets were small and buttery. What did you find in the raspberry Danish this time? A tiny, rusted key wrapped in wax paper and tucked under the jam. No tag, no note, just enough mystery to ruin my morning and perfect someone else's plot. Maybe it's for a diary, or a tea chest, or Mr. Pritchard's old garden gate he brags about fixing every spring and never does. You mean the gate that sticks and scares Aunt Mabel's cats? That would be poetic. Or it's a joke. Or it's trouble. Which one are you betting on? I'm betting on "someone is trying to send a message without using the phone line that overheats with town gossip." Whoever wrapped it knew exactly where you'd slice. Whoever wrapped it also didn't account for my butter knife's curiosity. Should we tell the chief, or do we ask Mrs. Harper over scones? Let's ask Mrs. Harper. She knows keys and quarrels and the best place to hide a secret. Plus, if it's a map to buried lemon curd, I'd like first dibs.