Run: 2026-03-18-01KM099J1W1EP0AR06VZZBST50

The bell over the bakery door gave a cheerful jingle as Mrs. Bell slipped inside, bringing a gust of cold air and the scent of woodsmoke with her. “You’re early.” “Only because I knew you’d save me a cranberry scone.” A tray of golden pastries sat cooling on the counter, and Clara nudged one onto a paper plate. “You look like you’ve been run ragged.” “Town meeting. Three cups of tea and not a single useful answer.” “Then it must have been about the missing ledger.” Mrs. Bell paused with the scone halfway to her mouth. “You heard?” “In a town this small, news travels faster than the delivery van.” “Funny. I thought the ledger had gone missing at the mayor’s office.” Clara reached for a jar of sugar sticks and frowned. “That’s what everyone assumes.” “Do you?” “I think the mayor’s office is too obvious.” Mrs. Bell lowered her voice. “You think someone planted it here?” “I think someone wanted it found.” The bakery hummed around them: the soft crackle of cooling loaves, the tick of the old clock, the faint clang from the kitchen where a pan had been left to rest. Mrs. Bell glanced toward the back room. “And if they come looking?” Clara slid a lemon tart into a box and tied it with string. “Then they’ll have to wait their turn. First, I’m serving pie.” Outside, snow began to fall, blanketing the sleepy town in white, as if nothing at all had gone missing.