Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXPN8HE5YVNG92F6JRGCZ3P

The bell above the door chimed as a gust of autumn wind swept in, carrying the scent of cinnamon and damp leaves. "Did you hear about old Mr. Holloway’s prize-winning pumpkin going missing? Right off his porch last night!" "Again? That’s the third time this month! First his prize-winning tomatoes, then his blue-ribbon zucchini, and now this?" "Someone’s got a real grudge—or a real appetite. Though I can’t imagine who’d want to eat a pumpkin that big raw." "Maybe it’s not about eating. Maybe it’s about winning. You know how competitive the Harvest Festival gets." "True. Remember when the Millers and the Carters got into that argument over the best apple pie? Nearly came to blows right here in the bakery." "Oh, I remember. Mrs. Carter threw a cinnamon roll at Mr. Miller. Hit him right in the forehead." "At least it was soft. Could’ve been worse—could’ve been a scone." A pause. The sound of a wooden spoon tapping against a mixing bowl. "Still… a stolen pumpkin? That’s low, even for this town. Who do you think’s behind it?" "Well, if I had to guess… I’d say follow the trail of crumbs. Literally."