Run: 2026-02-20-01KHYAN7NQD6NT55NCKWMSVYMT

Sunlight slants through the bakery’s skylight, dusting flour across the wooden prep table where a half-formed scone sits abandoned. The buttery tang of lavender croissants mingles with the earthy steam of chamomile tea; a teacup clinks against its saucer. “Did you check the locked pantry? Grandmother’s vintage rolling pin wasn’t where I left it last night—tucked under the proofing baskets for the heritage fair.” “Locked it myself after you left—only we have the key. Unless the delivery boy spotted it? He left early, muttering about a flat tire by the old mill.” “Mrs. Hale mentioned someone loitering there at dusk—wearing a baker’s apron.” “Our aprons have sunflower stitches on the cuffs. Only three exist: yours, mine, and Grandfather’s.” “We donated his to the town museum after he passed.” A crinkle of parchment cuts through the oven’s low hum. A frayed scrap plops onto the table—half a sunflower stitch, frayed at the edge. The oven timer dings sharp. A shadow stretches across the prep table’s flour-dusted ledger, marked with a smudged date: the day Grandfather’s hidden honey cake recipe vanished, the same day he’d whispered about a family secret tied to the rolling pin’s carved handle.