Run: 2026-09-23-01M37PD7GEJR6FGS174W64KJTK

The bell above the door jingled as a gust of autumn air swept into the bakery, carrying with it the scent of woodsmoke from the nearby chimneys. Behind the counter, a woman in a flour-dusted apron wiped her hands on a towel, her eyes crinkling with a knowing smile. "Morning, Maggie. The usual?" "You know me too well. Two cinnamon rolls and a coffee, black." "Coming right up. Say, did you hear about what happened at the lighthouse last night?" "I heard the sirens. Couldn't sleep a wink." "Old Man Hemsworth swears he saw someone prowling around the property. The police found a broken window and a missing photograph from the display case." "A photograph? What kind?" "The one from the 1950 Founder's Day picnic. The one with the whole town in it." "You're kidding. That photo's been hanging there for years. Why would anyone want that?" "Beats me. But something's fishy about the whole thing. And I don't mean the smoked salmon quiche." "I'll take a dozen of those blueberry muffins too, if you're not too busy gossiping." "For you? Never. Besides, in a town this small, gossip is the only thing fresher than my sourdough." The woman behind the counter slid the muffins into a paper bag, her brow furrowing slightly as she glanced out the window toward the harbor, where the lighthouse stood sentinel against the gray morning sky. "Keep your ears open, will you? If anyone knows something, it'll be someone in here by lunchtime." "You know I always do. Careful out there—and Maggie? Be home before dark."