Run: 2026-02-20-01KHY7X4JE4DJY62FHHRAS30VP

The scent of cinnamon and sourdough hung thick in the air, battling with the lingering sweetness of blueberry muffins. A wooden counter separated me from the display case, showcasing rows of perfectly glazed donuts and crusty loaves. Rain hammered against the window of “Millie’s Marvelous Morsels,” blurring the already sleepy street outside. “You’re awfully quiet, Martha,” a voice said, low and laced with a familiar amusement. I glanced up from meticulously arranging a plate of raspberry scones. “Just observing. It’s a fascinating tableau, isn’t it? Old Mr. Henderson staring at the lemon tarts like they hold the secrets of the universe.” A chuckle rippled through the small space. “He’s always been a devotee of the citrus. Though, I suspect it’s more about the glaze than the flavor.” “Perhaps,” I conceded, carefully placing a dusting of powdered sugar on a scone. “But he does seem preoccupied. And Beatrice Finch was here earlier, arguing with him about…" I hesitated, glancing towards the back room. "...regarding a rather large donation to the historical society.” “Beatrice and a donation, you say? Sounds like someone’s about to have a very public disagreement, and possibly, a very sticky situation.”