Run: 2026-03-12-01KKHZNWRCWGK2G6GQ187XBRFB

The warm scent of cinnamon and fresh bread wrapped around them as the morning rush thinned out. Sunlight streamed through the lace curtains, catching on the flour-dusted countertop. "These scones are drier than last week's gossip, Margaret. What did you do, forget the butter again?" "They're supposed to be that way. Rustic. Like your personality." A soft chuckle. "Rustic. That's one word for it. Mrs. Abernathy just asked if they'd double as doorstops." "Well, she's one to talk. Her fruitcake from the church bazaar could sink a battleship." The bell above the door tinkled as a customer left. For a moment, only the low hum of the oven and the distant chatter from the street filled the bakery. "Speaking of the bazaar... you heard about the mayor's wife yet?" "The missing brooch? Of course I did. She swears she took it off right here by the register." "Funny how it vanished between the lemon bars and the blueberry muffins. Almost like it grew legs." "Or someone with quick fingers helped it along." "Exactly. Pass me that rolling pin, will you? I have a feeling we'll be needing it for more than just pie crust this week."