Page 63 of The Holiday Swap

“Nice boots,” Charlie said. The woman glanced down at her high-heeled boots, which looked out of place for the weather.

“Thanks,” she replied. “Not the best in the snow it turns out, but surprisingly comfortable.”

There was a pause as the two women smiled at each other. Then the stranger said, “Don’t let me keep you. Those bags look heavy.”

“Not too heavy, but definitely delicate. And this is my stop, so no worries.”

“I’m headed inside, too,” the woman said. “I hear this istheplace for sugar cookies.”

“It sure is,” Charlie replied.

Walter appeared from the back and, seeing Charlie, gave a quick wave. “Just finishing up the dishes,” he said. “Need any help?”

“I got it. Thanks, Walter.” Charlie placed the bags down and removed her outerwear. The woman faced the front window, admiring the gingerbread house.

“This is stunning,” she said, bending slightly to look through the small but ornately decorated windows, which had tiny candles, glowing with miniature LED lights as the flames. “Who made this?”

“Um, my... I did. With some help from my assistant, Walter.”

“Well, I’m impressed. This must have taken a lot of work.”

Charlie nodded, knowing precisely how time consuming it was, having made similar gingerbread houses with Cass and their parents over the years. Some of her best memories had taken place in this bakery, and she continued to be surprised at how often and acutely she’d felt the pull of home recently. Charlie now thought of L.A. as her home, but these past few days in Starlight Peak reminded her that most of her history existed in this snowy, charming little town.

“I love these isomalt icicles and snowflakes. That’s not easy to do.”

Charlie, tying on her apron, looked up at the woman. “Most people don’t know what isomalt is. Are you in the business?” Isomalt was a sugar substitute that could be heated to a liquid and then manipulated into a variety of shapes. Thanks to its clarity, it made a perfect stand-in for snowflakes, icicles, and other decorations adorning the gingerbread house. But it was not easy to work with, and certainly not for beginners.

“I’m obsessed withThe Great British Bake Off,” the woman said, smiling at Charlie. She came over to the bakery case, andnodded appreciatively. “Everything looks delicious. Aside from a dozen sugar cookies, what do you suggest?”

Charlie reached for two of the take-out boxes. “We’re known for our sourdough.”

“Then I’ll take one of those,” the woman said, bending down to peer at the bottom shelves of the glass case. “And a few salted caramel brownies, two eclairs, a couple of these cinnamon buns, and...” The woman put her fingers on her chin and pursed her lips, trying to choose. “What are those linzer cookies filled with?”

“They’re plum cardamom,” Charlie said. The linzer cookies were pretty—the dainty star-shaped cutout in the top cookie showcasing the fruit filling, the whole thing gently dusted with icing sugar—but also delicious. “Probably my favorite cookie in the entire case, to be honest.”

“Sold. A few of those as well.”

Charlie packed up the treats carefully, then closed up the boxes with Woodburn Bread stickers. She reached for one of the Starlight loaves, sliding it into a paper bag. “This loaf is on the house,” she said to the woman.

As she rang up the purchases, Charlie said, “You know, you look so familiar to me. I’m trying to sort out if we’ve met before?”

“I get that a lot. I have one of those faces, I guess.”

“I guess so,” Charlie said, smiling. “So, what brings you to Starlight Peak today?”

The woman took off her gloves so she could reach into her purse. “Just passing through. I’m on the road quite a bit for work.” She handed Charlie cash. “And I have a serious sweet tooth.”

“Good news for us, I guess,” Charlie said. “I’m Cass. Cass Goodwin. This is my family’s bakery.”

“I’m Sarah,” the woman said. “Nice to meet you, Cass. I’mlooking forward to these.” Sarah held the boxes in one arm, the bag of Starlight loaf in the other. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again.”

“Anytime you’re passing through, please come back and visit.” Charlie came out from behind the counter. “I’ll get the door for you. Do you need a hand getting these to your car?”

“I’m okay, thanks. Happy Holidays!” Sarah said, as she walked out the door.

“To you, too,” Charlie said, and was about to close the bakery’s door—the chill of the outdoors seeping quickly into her—when she saw someone approaching the bakery.

Someone familiar, and wholly unexpected.

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