Baking Scones at the Cream First Cafe
The morning fog hadn’t yet lifted from Kingscombe’s harbour when Nikki Trent unlocked the door to the Cream First Café. The bell over the door chimed softly, a sound that always made her smile.
On the counter, a folded note. It must have been left there last night. Someone had scrawled three words across the paper in looping script:
LEMON BREAD ARC
A riddle? A request? Or another little mystery brewing before the spring fête?
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