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The next morning, the cupboard was still bare, and so even though Molly kept making rules about how often she was allowed to go to Pâtisserie Bujold, and then breaking them (often on the same day), she threw on a coat and, grateful that the warmer weather was holding, took off on her scooter for the village, and the delectable comforts of a warm almond croissant, fresh from Edmond’s oven.
The sun was out and so were the villagers, some standing against a stone wall with their faces tilted up to the sun, with expressions of relief and contentment. Molly wanted to stop and join them—and pick up any news about the Bisset robbery while she was at it—but her mouth was watering so desperately for the croissant that she pressed on to the pastry shop. Once there, she was surprised to see Malc
