Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY7T76ZMX1SWKRSJ2Y7NR1P

The bell above the door jingled, and the warm smell of honey wheat bread thickened with the day’s first chill. Maude leaned against the oak counter, wiping her hands on a flour-dusted towel as she watched Clara straighten the jar of lemon curd. “That rye loaf of yours is a hit,” Clara said, her voice soft as she tapped a crumb from the edge of a plate. “Saw Mr. Peabody from the hardware store scarf down a slice with his tea. Normally he’s too stingy with the compliments.” Maude huffed, but her eyes crinkled. “He’s just shy, that one. Like his daughter, Lila. Haven’t seen her in over a week. Since Tuesday, actually—brought in a batch of those chocolate croissants her sister swears by.” Clara paused, her fingers brushing the jar. “Funny thing, though. I found a single chocolate flake on the floor by the register yesterday. Odd. No one comes in after closing but—” She trailed off, glancing at the back door. A breeze lifted the hem of Maude’s apron, and a faint whiff of something sharp—a hint of bleach, or maybe old wood—lingered. “Probably the cat,” Maude said, too quickly. She reached for a napkin, but Clara was already reaching for the broom, her smile tight. Outside, a sparrow hit the window, and the bell jingled again—this time, a man with a tan coat and a leather satchel, staring at the closed sign. Clara’s broom stopped mid-sweep. “He’s not from here.” Maude’s hand hovered over the cash register. “No, he isn’t.”