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Outside, snow brushed softly against the windows, gathering along the lower panes. The tree lights reflected in the glass, making it difficult to tell where Norma’s Christmas decorations ended and the white afternoon began.

“And do you remember Douglas Merritt?” Emily asked. “Was he there?”

Cole knew that Emily was hoping against all hope that the mayor’s memory was wrong and Douglas was still their thief.

Norma’s hand stilled for just a moment. “Douglas Merritt.” She said the name the way people said the names of people they hadn’t thought about in decades but remembered clearly regardless. “He was always trouble. He kept trying to get into the back to see your nana’s cookies.” She shook her head. “Very persistent. She kept redirecting him.”

“Do you remember anything else?” Emily pressed.

Norma set down her needlepoint and looked at them directly. “He wasn’t well. I remember that. He was pale, sweating, holding his side. I told him he should go home. He didn’t want to go, kept saying he was fine, but by eleven he could barely stand upright.” She paused. “I told him he’d better see a doctor.”

“He was in the hospital,” Cole said. “Emergency appendix surgery.”

“December 23rd, yes. I heard afterward.”

Emily sank back against the sofa. Her shoulder brushed Cole’s, and he felt the disappointment leave her in a quiet exhale.

Her hand rested between them.

Cole looked down at it. Then, before he could think better of it, he slid his fingers through hers and lifted their joined hands onto his thigh.

Emily went still.

So did Cole, for half a beat.

They had touched plenty over the past few days. The heated touches. The desperate ones. The ones that were meant for only behind closed doors.

But this was different. Him taking her hand in Norma Steigler’s living room, beneath the glow of the Christmas tree, as naturally as if he’d been doing it for years.

Emily looked down at their interlaced fingers, then up at him. Surprise flickered across her face, followed by something softer that struck him squarely in the chest.

Cole brushed his thumb once over her knuckles.

He could have let go, but he didn’t.

The tension around her mouth eased, and her fingers tightened around his before she turned back to Norma.

Cole kept hold of her.

“Tell us about the afternoon,” he said. “After Douglas left. What was the bakery like?”

Norma thought for a moment. Russell moved from his hiding spot to Norma’s lap. She scratched his ear absently.

“Busy,” she said. “Busier than usual. Competition entries coming in, people dropping things off, people wanting to see what else had been entered. The usual Christmas Saturday crowd on top of all of that.” She paused. “And then there was the Girl Scout troop.”

Emily looked up. “Girl Scouts?”

“The Maple Falls troop. They were doing a Christmas cookie decorating event at the church hall next door that afternoon. A lot of them came into the bakery first—six, seven girls, all wanting candy decorations and colored sugar, all wanting different things.” Norma smiled at the memory. “Chaos. Your grandmother had to run to the bank, so I was handling the counter alone. It was—” She paused, choosing the word. “Demanding.”

“How long were they there?” Cole asked.

“Fifteen, twenty minutes maybe. Long enough that I wasn’t watching the kitchen.” She said it plainly, without drama. “I’d checked on the cookies at two o’clock—went back to see how they were coming. They were there. Beautiful batch. Some of her finest work.” A pause. “When I went back again, after the Girl Scouts had gone, they were gone.”

Cole made a mental note. Two o’clock. Fifteen to twenty minutes. The window.

“The Girl Scouts,” Emily said. “Could any of them have⁠—”

“They were in the front of the shop the whole time,” Norma said firmly. “I was with them at the counter. They didn’t go near the back.”