Page 52 of The Holiday Swap

Charlie

Monday: 5 Days Until Christmas...

Starlight Peak

The sky was still an inky black, lit with fading stars, and already Charlie had been up for hours, beginning work on a tier of cupcakes for a holiday-themed wedding the next day. It was Walter’s sister’s wedding, in fact, so he had the morning off from the bakery for a rehearsal brunch. She was grateful for the work, which was helping her not think about the day before: how much she had enjoyed her time with Jake, and what a rude awakening it had been to be interrupted, yet again, by Brett. She was also trying not to think about the harsh words she had flung at Brett, her frustrations finally boiling over. Yet snippets of the conversation kept popping into her head.

She could still picture the surprised hurt on Brett’s face—which, frankly, was what had really set Charlie off the day before: how shocked he had seemed, and how possessive of her sister he was. As if Cass were somehow his property, like one of his prime real estate investments he didn’t want anyone else to have.

Brett’s an adult. He can handle what he obviously had coming to him, Charlie thought, pausing to put on another pot of coffee. Then she set to work on the cupcake batter for the wedding. Once she turned off the stand mixer, she tasted the batter. It was rich and sweet, exactly the way it was supposed to be. At least one thing was going her way. She poured it into the prepared tins, put them in the oven, then moved on to the Starlight Bread dough.

Sadly, the dough was another story. It was not the way it was supposed to be at all. The contents of the proofing bowls looked deflated. When she began to work the dough with her floured hands, it was too sticky. She added more flour and kneaded eachboule. She knew adding so much flour at this stage would result in poorly shaped, dry loaves. Still, there was nothing else to do: she could not throw away any more dough. She had to keep moving forward, not backward—with everything, including this batch of bread. If a few of the Starlight loaves were a bit dry this year, so be it. They could add extra fruit to make up for it.

Charlie began to chop dates for date squares, her knife thumping hard against the cutting board. Soon, the first light of dawn was creeping across the sky. She glanced at the clock and realized if she didn’t dress soon, the morning rush for baked goods and coffees would start and she’d still be in pajamas and slippers.

Charlie opened the bakery doors, turning the painted wooden sign they’d had for as long as she could remember to theWELCOME, WE’RE OPEN!side.

Immediately, Sharon Marston stepped through.

“Hello,” she said, in a strange, theatrical voice—almost as if she thought she had an audience. She peered around, then took off her hat and fluffed her hair, pressing her lips together to work in what looked like a fresh coat of lipstick. “How are you today, Cassandra?” she intoned.

Charlie raised an eyebrow. Had she accidentally stepped onto the set of a soap opera? “I’m okay... Sharon.”

Sharon was looking at the counter now. Her eyes widened. “Ohmy.Is this it?” She fluffed her hair again, did that weird glance around thing, then stepped toward it. “Is this the famous Woodburn starter?”

“Oh shoot, yes. I was feeding it and forgot to put it away.” Charlie went to pick up the large container filled with the starter.

Sharon put a hand on her wrist. “May I see it?”

“Oh-kay.” Charlie pulled back the cheesecloth that covered the bowl and Sharon peered inside. Charlie noticed that it didn’t look quite right. It was supposed to be bubbling—and it wasn’t.

“So you feed it? Kind of like it’s a pet?”

“Yep. Once a day, after baking. Flour and water.” Charlie, confused about why the starter wasn’t bubbling, glanced at the container she had been using to feed the starter earlier and saw that it was labeled icing sugar. She searched her memory: surely she had not used icing sugar to feed the starter? But she couldn’t focus; Sharon was still staring at her, clearly waiting for something.

“As you know, I’m a very responsible pet owner,” Sharon said, inclining her head toward the front window, where her two poodles stood at attention. “Very, very responsible.”

“Sure. So, anyway... What can I get for you?”

Sharon gave an exasperated sigh and Charlie felt more confused than ever. “Okay, where is it?” Sharon asked, eyes darting around the bakery.

“Where’s what? Sharon, I just showed you the starter. Is there something else I can do for you today?”

“The camera, Cass! Where is it? Are you broadcasting this out to the town, too, the way you did with poor Brett?”

“What are you...oh.” The Live.Li stream. All at once, Charlie remembered Walter turning it on to test it out. She did not, however, remember turning it off—although she had closed the laptop this morning and it was now covered with her sister’s haphazard papers. Charlie tensed. Her sense of taste and smell had almost entirely returned, yes, but maybe it was time to face facts: her memory was still clunky and slow. She was scattered and all over the place, making mistakes she never should have been making. And it seemed to be getting worse, not better.

“The camera’s off,” Charlie said. Sharon relaxed her posture and stopped pouting her lips. Her voice was somewhat more normal—but filled with disdain—when she said, “You know, you think you can have everything, Cass Goodwin. It’s just not fair.”

“Please, Sharon. I don’t have the energy for whatever drama you’re trying to stir up this morning. We’re not in high school anymore. Can you just tell me what you want, I’ll give it to you, and you can go?” She tried to sound blasé, but in reality she was freaking out about the possibility that she hadlivestreamedher argument with Brett. How could she have been so careless and not remembered to turn off Live.Li when she got back from her hike with Jake?

“Excellent customer service, Cass. It’s like you don’t evenwant customers.” Sharon shot one last look at the starter before marching toward the door. “I’ve lost my appetite for Woodburn Breads,” she said over her shoulder as she pulled on her winter hat. “I think you’ll find the rest of the town feels the same, after the things you said to Brett. Who is a lovely man and did not deserve that!” Thebells chimed as she threw open the door and then slammed it harder than was necessary.

Charlie groaned, then cleared the papers away from the laptop. Though she really didn’t want to, she knew she had to do it. She clicked “review past broadcast” and watched as an image of the bakery appeared on-screen. Then she hit play—but was interrupted by the tinkling of the doorbells again. Not immediately looking up from the screen she said, “Sharon, you made your point—”

Then she saw who it was and smiled with relief. It was Faye Christie, not Sharon back for another round of berating Charlie—and her heart skipped a beat, because for a brief moment she hoped Jake might just be parking the car and be right behind his grandmother. But Faye was alone. Charlie hit pause on the video, thankful for the reprieve.

“Good morning,” Faye said, pulling the door closed behind her. “Phew! It’s a frosty one. And a bit icy out there, too.” She had a cane—it was hot pink and shiny—and she shook it at Charlie but in a friendly way. “Good thing I have my cane with me to keep me steady. Jake wouldn’t like that I had ventured out on my own in this, but he’s working a double shift again because one of the other firefighters called in sick, and a lady needs her treats. So, here I am.”

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