Run: 2026-10-27-01M5YJFX4KFX2XP7NS4DV9HBW9

The bell above the bakery door gave a tired jingle, though nobody had come in. Outside, a brisk October wind was worrying at the frame. Mabel set a tray of cinnamon buns on the counter. Across from her, June studied the empty cake stand. “Are you certain there were six?” “I counted them twice. Once before the icing, and once after.” “Perhaps you ate one between counts.” “I would remember eating a lemon tart.” June examined the stand through her spectacles. A single pale crumb rested beneath the glass dome. Beside it lay a tiny silver button. “That wasn’t there yesterday.” “Neither was the gap in the tarts.” Mabel fetched a saucer, and June tipped the button onto it. A thread of green wool still clung to the shank. “The mayor’s coat is green.” “So is half the knitting in this town.” “But only the mayor was here before opening.” The bell jingled again. Both women looked toward the door, where a damp envelope had slipped through the letterbox. Inside was a five-pound note and a message written in a familiar, slanting hand: *Borrowed a tart for the council meeting. It was a long meeting.* “He could have asked.” “He could have paid for the button, too.” Mabel picked up the saucer and tucked it beneath the counter. She would return it with the mayor’s next loaf, along with a bill for one lemon tart.