Run: 2026-03-18-01KM0AMFMDJDNRZN13V2CY426P

The bell over the bakery door gave its cheerful little jingle, and warm sugar-sweet air wrapped around the room like a quilt. Behind the glass case, rows of lemon tarts, cinnamon rolls, and peach turnovers gleamed under the morning lights. “You’re late.” “By three minutes.” “Three minutes is an eternity when the scones are fresh.” A low laugh drifted from the kitchen. “You say that about every batch.” “And every batch deserves the praise.” The front window looked out onto Main Street, where a florist was setting out buckets of daisies and the hardware store next door was still half-asleep behind its dusty display. Inside the bakery, everything smelled of butter and vanilla and comfort. “You hear about Mrs. Pritchard’s missing cat?” “I heard about it from Mrs. Pritchard herself, twice, and from the cat’s portrait on the post office bulletin board.” “Then you heard she suspects the new antique dealer.” “Because he wears gloves indoors?” “Because he asked if the cat was valuable.” “Fair enough.” A tray clattered in the back. “Would you like a muffin, or are you just here to gossip?” “I came for a blueberry muffin.” “That’s what they all say.” A pause, then, softer: “And?” “And maybe for the gossip.”