Run: 2026-05-10-01KR90HHYM6THAQXBSH70GERPH

As she twisted the piping bag, the scent of vanilla lingered in the air. "I just can't believe Martha would do such a thing," the first woman murmured, glancing at the window where autumn leaves fluttered past. "Neither can I," replied the other, folding a napkin into neat squares. "But that argument at the town hall last week? It was downright heated. Everyone saw it." The flour settled like dust on the counter between them. "You don’t think this has anything to do with the festival planning, do you?" the first asked softly. "Wouldn’t surprise me one bit," came the quiet reply. "Martha’s been nursing that grudge since last spring. It was bound to boil over eventually." The soft chime of the bell above the door interrupted them, but neither moved. "Keep it to yourself for now," the second added, voice low. "The less people know, the better." A tray of golden scones cooled nearby, untouched.