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She squeezes once, then lets go before my instincts can get more embarrassing about it. “You look like you got loved good and then attacked by paperwork.”

“That is uncannily accurate.”

“It was an easy guess.” She smiles at me before nodding toward the counter. “I made scones.”

Scarlet points toward the back table. “We need old Sweet Tooth files. We’re looking for receipts. Can we eat them over there?”

Honey’s smile drops. That gets my attention faster than the scones.

“What?” I ask.

Honey glances toward the kitchen door. “You’re in luck. Junie brought up old receipts yesterday. They’re in the back.”

Scarlet and I look at each other.

Honey sighs. “I asked her to make one bulletin board and apparently my café is now a haunted archive with muffins.”

“Not haunted,” I say automatically.

Scarlet’s brows lift. “Fine. Unconfirmed haunting.”

Honey wipes her hands on her apron and leads us toward the hallway beside the kitchen. “Junie has been pulling old bakery history photos and memorabilia for the anniversary wall. Sweet Tooth used to collect vendor orders when Heritage Hall flooded, so we’ve got a ton of stuff.”

My pulse jumps.

“Anything that might be water deliveries?” Scarlet asks.

“Yeah. I think I’ve seen some stuff about people moving things by water when the roads washed out,” Honey says.

The word moving catches in my mind, but before I can work it out, I hear Mrs. Delaney say, “It was the same with Maribel’s niece. Heard her alpha humming from the pantry while he was standing outside fixing the hose.”

Honey closes her eyes like a woman praying for gossip to develop manners.

Scarlet stops. “Mrs. Delaney.”

Mrs. Delaney looks up from her knitting. “Yes, dear?”

“What was the same?”

A woman at the next table leans in before Mrs. Delaney can answer. “Bond echoes.”

Mrs. Delaney gives her a sharp look. “I was getting there.”

I pull my notebook from my bag.

Mrs. Delaney’s needles click once. “People hearing things that weren’t said. Feeling someone close when they’re far away. Smelling distress that’s already passed. Little things, mostly.”

“Like what?” I ask.

She lowers her voice, which means everyone in Sweet Tooth leans closer. “Mr. Albright woke up last night convinced his omega was crying on the porch. She was asleep beside him. Hadn’t cried at all.”

Scarlet’s expression goes careful. “How many people are talking about this?”

“Enough that people are pretending not to talk about it,” Mrs. Delaney says. “It’s been worse since the museum reopened after the fire.”

Honey points toward the hall. “You can write while walking. If we let her keep going, she’ll give you a family tree, a timeline, and somebody’s casserole recipe.”

“I heard that,” Mrs. Delaney calls.