Run: 2026-03-12-01KKHZAFB9M7Q2CRCET8786V0Y

The little bell above the bakery door gave a cheerful tinkle as Harriet stepped inside, the warm scent of cinnamon and vanilla wrapping around her like a hug. Sunlight streamed through the lace curtains, dancing across the glass display case filled with fresh scones and lemon bars. “Those look almost too pretty to eat this morning.” Harriet smiled, selecting two blueberry muffins. “Almost. But I’ve never let that stop me before.” A soft chuckle floated from behind the counter. “Good. Because I stayed up half the night perfecting that streusel. Tell me the truth now.” She broke off a piece and popped it into her mouth, eyes closing in bliss. “Like summer in a crumb topping. You’ve outdone yourself.” The baker leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Between us, I think Mrs. Pickering is going to accuse me of witchcraft again. She’s convinced nothing natural tastes that good.” Harriet’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Let her. Last week she swore the mailman was a Russian spy. I’d rather be accused of delicious magic than paranoia.” “Speaking of which… you still think she’s the one who’s been leaving those strange notes in the library books?” Harriet slid her payment across the counter. “I’m beginning to wonder if we’re looking in the wrong place entirely.”