Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ94PFAHAKH3P1F645XRYEK9

The warm, yeasty aroma of freshly baked croissants mingled with the sharper scent of ground coffee. Sunlight, thick with dancing dust motes, slanted across worn wooden tables at "The Sweet Surrender." Behind the counter, a flour-dusted apron strained against a generous middle. "Morning, Eleanor! The plum danishes are a masterpiece today." "Arthur, always the discerning palate. Just out of the oven. Careful, the glaze is still quite hot." A faint clinking sound, like keys against a paper bag. "Wouldn't miss them for the world. You won't believe what happened last night, though. Down by the old lighthouse." A soft sigh. "Oh dear. Please tell me it wasn't another seagull incident involving Mrs. Gable's prize-winning marmalade." "Worse. Saw a man, a stranger, hiding in the dunes with a rather large, canvas-wrapped bundle. Looked heavy." The rustle of wrapping paper. "A stranger? At our tranquil shore? And what sort of bundle might that be?" "Couldn't tell. But he was in such a rush. Nearly tripped over that bit of driftwood by the path." "Well, I suppose it wouldn't be Elmwood without a little oddity now and then, would it?"