Run: 2026-05-10-01KR90G9B1WTSQJYY2BVJNY6AN

The scent of cinnamon and yeast hung heavy in the air, a warm embrace against the autumn chill rattling the windowpanes. A dusting of flour coated the mahogany counter, much like the light snowfall beginning to gather on the cobblestone streets outside. "You’re late. The lemon tarts are already halfway gone." "The bridge was blocked by a tractor. I thought I’d be stuck in the valley for an hour." "I suppose an excuse doesn't make the blueberry scones any fresher." "Is that a hint that I shouldn't bother ordering the usual?" "It’s a hint that you should order two. You look like you’ve had a morning from Hades." "The Mayor’s office is a special kind of purgatory, I’ll give you that." "Did he finally find those missing zoning permits?" "He found something, certainly. But it wasn't the paperwork. It was a very suspicious-looking letter tucked inside the sourdough starter jar." "In the bread? That’s a new low, even for this town." "Don't act so shocked. You know as well as I do that nothing stays buried in Willow Creek for long—not even in the dough."