Run: 2026-09-02-01M1GW1J69JP8W1WM1AXJCMNR3

The bell above the door jingled, trailing a gust of November air into clouds of cinnamon and warm yeast. "Morning, Hazel. That coffee cake smells like heaven." "Morning, dear. First slice is yours—soon as you answer one little question." A flour-dusted apron leaned over the counter. "You've been poking around the old Henderson place, haven't you?" "Poking is such a strong word." "Mm-hmm. Then explain why Sheriff Dobbs was in here yesterday, asking whether you'd been buying up cream puffs." "Did you tell him?" "I told him nothing. A woman protects her best customer." A plate slid across the counter anyway. "Now. Why are you really asking about the Henderson place?" "Because Eleanor saw lights in the carriage house at midnight. And Eleanor doesn't imagine things." "No, she doesn't." Tongs clattered against the glass case. "Funny thing, though. Mabel Kowalski bought three dozen cupcakes yesterday. Three dozen. That woman hasn't baked her own in thirty years." "So either she's hosting a very big party..." "...or somebody unexpected came calling at her house last night." The first bite of coffee cake melted on her tongue, sweet and buttery, with just a whisper of scandal underneath.