Run: 2026-03-18-01KM09Q6ZM3ZBADS47J230PE8V

The bell over the bakery door chimed softly, then faded beneath the warmth of cinnamon and yeast. Rowan set a plate of raspberry tarts on the display case, smoothing the glaze with a careful fingertip. “Those tarts look like they’re dressed for a party,” Mara said, leaning in to inspect the shine. “Did someone new order today?” “No one new,” Rowan replied, reaching for a tin of powdered sugar. “Just the same crowd. And the same… odd note.” Mara’s smile tightened. “The one tucked under the register ribbon?” “Mm-hm.” Rowan slid the paper from her apron pocket. It was smudged at the edges, as if it had been handled too many times. “It says, ‘Stop counting what isn’t yours.’” Mara clicked her tongue and lowered her voice. “Maybe it’s about the till. Maybe someone’s been pocketing change.” “Or maybe it’s about the flour,” Rowan said, nodding toward the pantry shelves. “Because we’re suddenly short, and the bag wasn’t opened.” Mara picked up a tart and turned it once in her hands. “Let’s check inventory after lunch. No panic. We’re baking, not chasing shadows.” Rowan exhaled, relief mixing with worry. “Agreed. But whoever left that note… they knew exactly where to hide it.”