Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY7VKF93FWZWAEAVFRSNJ3F

Clara wiped her hands on a flour-dusted towel, flicking a crumb onto the tiled floor. "Fresh poppy seed today, Mr. Hargrove. Mrs. Peabody raved about it yesterday. Said it’s the first since her daughter moved back—" She paused, noticing his jaw tight. His usual rye loaf sat untouched, a slice of apple pie beside it, now congealed at the edges. "Trouble?" He pushed the pie plate toward her, crumbs clinging to the rim. "Mabel’s boy came by. The one in the city—works at the museum. Said he’s closing up her apartment. ‘Said she left without a word. Took her… her locket. The one with the portrait of her husband.’ He bit his lip, eyes darting to the shelf where Clara kept the vintage plates—Mabel’s old ones, once displayed for sale. A chipped blue plate was missing. "You seen Mabel lately? She usually stops by Friday." Clara’s brow lifted. "No. But the plate…" She trailed off, nodding at the empty spot. Mr. Hargrove’s fork clinked against his coffee cup. "She mentioned something about a ‘lost family heirloom’ last week. Said she’d keep it safe. Now I wonder…" The bell jangled. Clara turned, but the customer was gone, the pie fork now his only trace. Somewhere, a screen door slammed. She glanced at the back door, half-locked, and for a moment, the bakery smelled less of cinnamon and more of secrets.