Run: 2026-10-08-01M4DA745K1Y5XHPYX92AW8CYV

The bell above the door jingled, and the cinnamon rolls on the back shelf seemed to hold their breath. "You're late," Marigold said, wiping flour from her hands. "Third Tuesday in a row." "Traffic on Maple. Someone parked a tractor across the whole street." "Mm. Or someone didn't want to be seen walking into a bakery at six in the morning." "Don't start." "I'm not starting anything. I'm just noticing that the cash drawer is empty and you've got a smear of blue icing on your collar." "Blue icing is for the Harwick christening cake. You know that." "I know the Harwick cake was ordered for Saturday. Yet here it is, Thursday, and the lid's already off the tin." A long pause. The oven timer ticked down. "Keep your voice low. Did you bring the envelope?" "Did you bring the money?" "Half of it. The rest after I see what's inside." "You don't trust me." "I trust you about as far as I can throw that rolling pin. Which, after the last month, is a fair distance." A soft laugh, then a rustle of paper sliding across the marble counter. "Careful. Those are the only copies." "Copies of what?" "Of the recipe book. The one Edith's family has been hiding since 1952." Silence. Then the sharp click of a lock turning in the back room. "Well," Marigold said quietly, "now somebody knows we have it."