Page 69 of The Pumpkin Pie Book Nook

Robyn pressed her lips together because she was absolutely not laughing. She was not.

Emily huffed—very maturely—and motioned Robyn toward the back. “Come on.”

The back corner of the bakery was exactly what Emily had warned her about.

A tall wooden shelving unit dominated the back corner, stacked with extra supplies: bulk flour in paper sacks, spare mixing bowls, and equipment that never saw regular use. Emily had pulled it out from the wall, but only just enough to create a narrow gap, maybe two feet wide, between the shelving and the back wall where the stove sat.

“Thought I’d get a head start,” Emily said, slightly breathless, which Robyn suspected had less to do with exertion and more to do with what they might find.

Robyn squeezed in, the shelving unit at her backs and the cast-iron bulk of the stove in front of her.

She stepped closer, brushing her fingers along the cast-iron edge. It was cold and dusty, but solid. And by the looks of it, heavy. It was a good thing they weren’t planning on moving it.

Emily held a flashlight high so Robyn could inspect it.

She opened the main oven door, pulling down on the iron handle, and peered inside. It was empty. Nothing but charred blackness and old soot.

Robyn exhaled, trying to steady herself. “Okay. Where would someone hide⁠—”

“There,” Emily murmured, directing Robyn with the flashlight.

Robyn followed her gaze.

On the side of the stove, near a seam in the iron, there was an odd etched mark. It was small, like a maker’s stamp but seemingly etched in, after the fact.

“It looks like… a tiny pie,” Robyn said, getting closer.

“Look, there’s a panel,” Emily said, using the light like a pointer. She grabbed a flat screwdriver from the nearby shelf and handed it to Robyn.

Robyn worked the tool into the slit, carefully wedging it in place.

“Come on, almost there,” Robyn said, ignoring Emily’s winced expression.

She had to apply just a bit more pressure and then, CLICK.

The panel popped loose and swung open.

For a second, neither of them moved.

Because tucked inside the hollow space was a neat bundle of pages wrapped in twine, an envelope sealed with dark wax, and a tiny pie charm tied with a ribbon the color of harvest orange.

Robyn’s breath left her in a shaky rush.

“Oh my gosh,” Emily whispered, hand flying to her mouth. “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh⁠—”

Robyn reached in with trembling fingers and lifted the bundle out like it was something fragile and alive.

She couldn’t believe it. The pages were dry, safe, and most important, real.

The last installment.

Her vision blurred so fast it shocked her.

“I—” Robyn swallowed hard, because her throat had turned to sand. “We found it.”

Emily made a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a sob, and then she was wedging in the tight space beside Robyn so she could hug her. Robyn nearly dropped the manuscript.

“We found it,” Emily repeated, voice cracking. “We actually found it.”