Run: 2026-09-23-01M36NHSFENKDRZ1A2HHTYREJG

The bell over the bakery door gave a guilty little jingle. “Funny how it only rings like that when someone’s sneaking in.” “I’m not sneaking. I’m avoiding Mrs. Bellweather. She’s been asking who had access to the church raffle tin.” “And you did?” “I borrowed it to measure flour. It was the only container that didn’t leak.” “Then why is there a raffle ticket baked into the lemon loaf?” A pause. Outside, rain stitched silver lines down Main Street. Inside, the ovens breathed warm cinnamon into the quiet. “Maybe it fell in.” “Your handwriting is on the back.” “That’s not proof. Everyone says my handwriting looks like a spider fell into ink.” “Still, the number matches the ticket missing from the tin.” “I found that ticket under the counter.” “You told Mrs. Bellweather the tin was locked in the church office.” “I was trying to keep her from accusing the mayor again.” The back door creaked. Both of them turned toward the sound. “Is that the mayor?” “No. That’s the baker’s cat.” “Since when does the cat carry a key?” A soft metallic clink came from beneath the flour sacks. The first character crouched. “Well. The cat didn’t steal the raffle money.” “Then who did?” The oven timer chimed. “Whoever put the ticket in the loaf wanted us to ask that.” “And now?” “Now we serve the lemon loaf at the town meeting—and watch who refuses a slice.”