Run: 2026-07-01-01KWE98HT20M9C9RFZMGF5J7N8

The bell above the door jingled as Mabel wiped flour from her hands onto her apron, glancing up at the frost-rimmed window. "You heard about the necklace, then." "Everyone's heard about the necklace. Doris hasn't stopped talking about it since Tuesday." "She's convinced it was that new fellow from the hardware store." "Doris thinks everyone's guilty of something. Last month she accused the mailman of reading her postcards." "He probably does." "That's beside the point." A soft laugh, followed by the clink of a teacup settling onto its saucer. Outside, snow had started falling again, dusting the cobblestones a pale, forgetful white. "So what do you think happened to it?" "I think Eleanor misplaced it somewhere ridiculous, like the flour bin, and she's too embarrassed to admit it." "You don't actually believe that." "No. But it's more comforting than the alternative." "Which is?" "That someone in this town took it. Someone we know. Someone who probably buys bread here every Sunday." The silence stretched, thick as the cinnamon-scented air between them. "You're thinking about the widow Halloran, aren't you." "I didn't say a word." "You didn't have to." The oven timer chimed, sharp and sudden, cutting through the quiet like a verdict.