Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXPZC8AQPY48WANP9Q9CAN4

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 for competition. You don’t think it’s that new fellow from the city, do you? The one who bought the old Miller place?" "Him? Doubt it. He’s been nothing but polite since he moved in. Besides, he’s got his hands full restoring that old house. I can’t see him sneaking around in the dead of night just to swipe a pumpkin." "Then who? The only other newcomer is that woman running the bookshop, and she’s too busy organizing her mystery nights to bother with county fair sabotage." "Maybe it’s not a person at all. Maybe it’s the Holloway family curse finally rearing its ugly head." "Oh, don’t start with that nonsense. The Holloways have been cursed since 1923, and not a single pumpkin’s gone missing until now." "Well, something’s got to explain it. Unless… you don’t think it’s *her*?" "Her who?" "You know. The one who always wins. The one who bakes those pies everyone’s too afraid to beat in the fair." A long pause. The espresso machine hissed in the background. "…You think Marjorie Whitmore would stoop to stealing a pumpkin?" "Wouldn’t put it past her. That woman’s got a competitive streak wider than the county line."