Run: 2026-10-13-01M4TB7B58HF8S0JDJPS6NHYNC

The bell above the door chimed long before sunrise, and Willow Creek Bakery smelled of cinnamon, browned butter, and secrets. "You locked up at nine, same as always?" "Nine on the dot. I even rattled the back door twice." "Then explain why the flour bin was open." "I was hoping you would not notice that." "The footprints in it are rather hard to miss. Size seven, dusted like powdered sugar." "Everyone in this town wears size seven when they want to borrow something." "Borrow? The starter is gone." "Not gone. Moved." "That starter has lived on that shelf for forty years." "And it will live forty more, if nobody panics before the Founders' Day bake-off." "You hid it?" "I protected it. Someone tried to feed it bleach last night." "Bleach? In Marigold? How can you be sure?" "The smell, the bubbles, and this." "A blue ribbon?" "Caught on the pantry latch. Only last year's winner still wears hers pinned to her apron." "She would sabotage us to win again?" "She would do worse for that lemon-blueberry trophy." "So what do we bake today?" "The truth, one warm slice at a time."