Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCRD4B387K7V3437Y0C8T1A

The bell over the door jingled, and the smell of cardamom rolled out into the cold like a welcome mat. "You're early. The morning buns won't be out till seven." "I'm not here for buns." "Everyone says that, and everyone leaves with buns." A pause. Flour drifted through the light from the window. "Margaret Ellis came in Tuesday, didn't she. Right before closing." "She comes in every Tuesday. Lemon tart, no whipped cream, and forty minutes of complaining about the library board." "Did she seem strange to you?" "She seemed like Margaret. Why?" "Because her lemon tart was still sitting on her kitchen table Wednesday morning. Untouched. And Margaret Ellis has never left a dessert unfinished in seventy-one years." The scrape of a tray being set down. A long breath. "You'd better sit." "I don't have time to—" "Sit. You'll think better with something warm in you, and I'll think better with company. Now. She paid with a twenty, and she left the change, which she never does. And she asked me if I'd ever seen a car with New Hampshire plates parked out back." "Had you?" "No. But I have now." The oven timer went off, and neither of them moved.