Run: 2026-07-25-01KYCXPNND6MPTE33HECH1DSBS

The bell over the door had been silent since noon, leaving only cinnamon and the hum of the ovens. Marigold pressed her thumb into buttercream, smoothing a swirl onto the red velvet. "Did you see the lights still on at Millie's?" Eleanor wiped flour from her cheek. "I walked past at six. The door was locked, but her mixer was running." "You're sure it wasn't the wind?" "Wind doesn't hum 'Moon River.'" "That was her favorite tune." "Exactly. And now there's flour on the sidewalk. Not from her back step—ours." "You're tracking white footprints to the display case?" "All the way. Someone was here before dawn." "Probably a delivery boy with cold feet." "Deliveries come in brown trucks, not through the front window." "The latch was broken?" "Not broken. Unlocked. From the inside." "You think she came here?" "I think she left something. Behind the sourdough starter." "A note?" "A key. And a recipe card for almond croissants with tomorrow circled in red." "If she meant to share it, why hide it?" "Because the card isn't hers. It's Mrs. Gable's. And Mrs. Gable died in March." "Then who was baking at midnight?" Eleanor slid the yellowed card into her apron pocket. The oven timer chimed, sharp and sudden, but neither moved to check the rising dough.