The Holiday Swap

by Maggie Knox

  “It’s okay, Charlie. You’re having a hard week, I get it.” Sydney had gone off to gather up the ingredients they needed for the recipe then. Cass had stood still for a moment, trying to gather her emotions and her thoughts. Now, she vowed to find a moment of privacy to call her sister—whose phone had been off the night before, and who had not answered when Cass tried the bakery, late in the evening when she got back from the set. There had been no missed calls from Charlie, but five from Brett. Cass had listened to his voicemails but gathered no clues about whether her sister had talked to him yet. “I just miss you,” he had said, so many times she had finally deleted the messages and turned off her phone for the night.

  “On your marks, everyone!” It was time to tape the day’s Sweet & Salty challenge, and Cass joined Austin under the bright lights. All at once, with the bustle all around her, Cass felt something new: exhilaration. It had been a stressful morning, sure, but she had done it. Cass’s days in Starlight Peak were generally uniform, because all anyone wanted was exactly what her family had been baking and selling for generations. If there was any deviation, people noticed. The month before, she had tried adding a hint of lavender to the lemon bars and there had almost been a town riot. Here in Los Angeles, she was trying new things—and starting to enjoy it. Maybe the missing recipe file wasn’t such a disaster after all.

  “I’m going with a classic today,” Austin announced in his self-assured way, which made Cass both envious and annoyed. He was always relaxed, whether on camera or speaking to the crew, his voice smooth and his tone pleasant, with inflections and modulations in all the right places. It was impossible not to enjoy listening to Austin Nash, as irritating as that was. Plus, he never stumbled over a line; not ever. And he was always so patronizingly helpful when Cass fumbled her lines, which happened all too frequently.

  “A German chocolate cake soufflé,” Austin continued. “A time-honored dessert, with a twist that should really challenge our contestants.”

  Cass stared at Austin, openmouthed. Then she glanced at Sydney, who looked like a deer caught in headlights.

  “Wow! I believe I’ve rendered the amazing Charlie Goodwin speechless,” Austin said.

  Everyone turned to look at Cass. Sasha raised an eyebrow, tapping her pen against the tabletop.

  “It’s just that . . .” Cass swallowed hard. How the hell had this happened? “My recipe is for German chocolate cake soufflé bombes. And we can’t have the contestants make basically the same thing, so I . . .”

  I have no idea what to do, is how she wanted to finish the sentence.

  “Then one of you will have to come up with a new recipe,” Sasha said, glancing down at her watch. “You have an hour. Decide amongst yourselves.”

  She and one of the producers started discussing the schedule and then everyone dispersed from the meeting table, leaving Cass and a smug-looking Austin alone.

  “So that’s weird, huh?” Austin said. “We just Big Magicked each other.”

  “Big Magicked?” she echoed.

  “Yeah, from that Elizabeth Gilbert book about creativity. I’ve been reading it because I’m working on a book about my life as an up-and-coming young chef in my spare time.” Cass had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. “She says that ideas just float around out there and you have to act on them, or someone else will.”

  Cass gritted her teeth and took a steadying breath. “I don’t know, Austin. My idea wasn’t ‘floating around out there.’ It was on paper. This doesn’t feel random, it feels like you acted on something that wasn’t yours to act on. Know what I mean?”

  He snorted. “It’s hardly a unique idea.”

  “Exactly! But why now, and why today?”

  “You’re sounding a little paranoid, kiddo. It’s chocolate cake.” Austin leaned forward, his hands clasped, and furrowed his brow. “I’m worried about you, Charlie. I’ve had concussions, and they can really mess you up. Maybe you should, I don’t know, take a leave or—”

  Cass began gathering her things. “I’m fine. And you know what? Keep your recipe. I’ve got something better in mind.”

  * * *

  • • •

  “I need to know something,” Cass told Sydney, keeping her voice low as the two huddled at Charlie’s on-set workstation. “How did Austin find out what my recipe was?”

  “I didn’t tell him, I swear,” Sydney replied. “But . . .” Cass noticed Sydney’s cheeks had turned pink. “I might have accidentally mentioned something to Nathan?” Nathan was Austin’s assistant, and a decent baker who had been nothing but friendly to Cass—especially since he thought he was responsible for giving her a concussion. But he idolized Austin, which meant he couldn’t be trusted.

  “Nathan came over and asked for a few of our ramekins,” Sydney said. “I guess we ended up with more after cleanup the other day? Anyway, he saw I was setting up for tempering chocolate, and asked what it was for. And I told him we were making bombes . . . But I didn’t say anything about the German chocolate cake. I promise!”

  Cass nodded, gave Sydney a small smile. “Was the recipe on the table?”

  Sydney put a hand to her forehead. “Yes.”

  “And when you left to get the ramekins, Nathan was alone at the workstation.” Cass sighed. Sydney looked stricken.

  “Should I tell Sasha?” Sydney asked. “I’ll throw myself under the bus, Charlie. It’s my fault and I should—”

  “Absolutely not,” Cass replied. “I don’t want you to get in trouble. Besides, we’re going to do something even better. Okay? You with me?”

  “Always. What are you thinking?”

  Cass paused, her mind blank. Then she grabbed her reusable water bottle. “I just need a few minutes. And some water. Don’t stress, Sydney. We’ve got this.” She wasn’t sure she believed that, but knew if she didn’t give herself a moment alone she was going to have a breakdown, and Austin Nash would win.

  * * *

  • • •

  Cass stood in the hallway in front of the water refill station. She looked up at the ceiling, bottle in hand, and struggled for composure by taking a few deep breaths.

  “Austin Nash is an ass,” she murmured. Charlie had told her to look out for Austin, but did she even know the half of it? That he was actively trying to sabotage her career? The sisters had always been protective of each other, and this Austin situation was no exception. She needed to handle this right, for Charlie’s sake. And she needed to get in touch with Charlie tonight, even if she had to call someone else in town and send them over to the bakery with a message for her sister.

  She became aware that someone was standing behind her, waiting to use the water station. With a quick “Sorry” she got busy filling her bottle. When she turned around, she saw him: the cute guy from the coffee shop, the one she’d invited—with a plus one—to the show today.

  “Miguel,” she said quickly, so he wouldn’t think she’d forgotten his name and blame it on concussion symptoms. “You made it!”

  He was holding two Sweet & Salty branded water bottles, same as hers, one in each hand. When he smiled, his dimples were on full display, which did not disappoint Cass one bit. Wife or no wife, she could still appreciate his good looks. “Charlie! Hey! I thought that might be you. I’m surprised they let the talent mingle with the riffraff.”

  Cass was so happy to see a friendly face, but then remembered Miguel thought she was Charlie, which meant he also thought she was a reality-show celebrity. Not some small-town baker who was wholly out of her element.

  “It’s really great to see you,” Miguel said, filling the first of his bottles. “Though I think I might be lost. Did I take a wrong turn somewhere?”

  It was actually Cass who was in the wrong area of the studio, where guests and audience members waited. She and Austin shared a greenroom, which had bottles of water all set out, but she hadn’t wanted to ris
k running into her co-host.

  “You’re good,” Cass said with a smile. “I just wanted some space from the chaos backstage.” Then she watched him fill the second bottle. “So, you’re here with . . . Sorry, can you remind me of her name again?”

  “Jacintha.”

  “Right! Are you enjoying yourselves so far?”

  “We just got here, and apparently we’re a bit early. Jacintha hates being late, and I just do what she tells me to.” He laughed, but Cass had trouble keeping the smile on her face.

  “I should probably get back,” she began.

  Miguel capped the second bottle, then gave Cass what she was beginning to recognize as his signature kind and caring expression. “Listen, I don’t want to overstep, but . . . you seem a little stressed. How are you doing?”

  Cass laughed weakly. “You’re right. There was a bit of on-set drama this morning. My co-host is . . . Well, let’s just say he’s doing his best to try and make me look bad.” She was aware she’d said too much, and tried to backpedal. “Actually, that’s not entirely true. I’m making myself look bad, I guess. But I’m letting him get under my skin. He keeps bringing up the concussion every chance he gets. He’s trying to undermine me, so he can take the next show away from Char—away from me.” Cass paused to take a breath. “I am so sorry, Miguel. When I invited you here it was not to be my therapist!”

  He smiled, his charming bedside manner fully intact. “Head injuries can cause people to act in ways that aren’t typical for them, but that doesn’t seem to be the issue here.”

  Cass wondered if pretending to be her twin sister counted as acting in an atypical way.

  “Your symptoms haven’t flared, have they?” he continued.

  “No, I feel great in that department.” She beamed up at him, trying to radiate health.

  “Good. Then I’m not worried about you at all, and I’m the medical professional. Last I checked, that cocky co-host of yours isn’t a doctor, right?” He smiled warmly.

  “You always know just the right thing to say to make me feel better,” Cass said, then remembered her dilemma and winced. “As a fan of the show, any chance you have a killer dessert idea you want to share, along with your medical opinion?”

  “Seriously? You’re asking me for baking advice? Actually, Jacintha and I have this tradition—Sunday night bake-offs after our weekly family dinner with my parents. And I did just make something pretty delicious.”

  Cass smiled even as she was struck with a sudden sense of longing. What would it be like to be with someone who shared your interests?

  “This past Sunday we took this old recipe from back when we were kids. My parents are both doctors and were always so busy, but they baked together every Sunday evening like clockwork.” Miguel smiled at the memory. “Jacintha based this week’s competition on who could come up with the recipe’s craziest twist.”

  “And let me guess, you won?”

  “I did,” Miguel said, with a wink.

  He told her about the coconut pie that had been on regular rotation in his house growing up, and how he had adapted it for the contest. When he was done, Cass smiled, caught up in family baking memories herself—and an idea taking shape. She could adapt one of Woodburn’s most beloved recipes and easily salvage the on-set disaster she was dealing with. “I have to run. But you’ve actually really inspired me, Miguel. You’ve given me the perfect idea. Thank you so much.” She waved goodbye and rushed off down the hall.

  * * *

  • • •

  “Charlie!” Cass was almost out the door of the network’s building, but hadn’t been able to walk fast enough, evidently. Those high heels weren’t doing her feet any favors. Even back in her canvas sneakers, her feet were achy and tired. She turned at the now-familiar voice.

  “Hi, Sasha. Sorry. I meant to check in before I left, but I have an appointment I need to get to.” An appointment with my bed, that is. Plus, she had to get a hold of Charlie. It wasn’t just about needing recipe guidance—at this point she was getting worried about her sister, and the bakery. Priya had said Charlie hadn’t been responding to any of her texts, either. What was going on?

  “Have you not been getting my texts?” Sasha asked. She wasn’t even out of breath, despite the fact that she had been practically running to catch up to Cass.

  “Oh, sorry. My phone has been, uh, glitchy.” Cass could only assume Charlie’s phone was now filled with texts from Sasha, too. And yet, she still hadn’t responded.

  “So, do you have it?” Sasha asked.

  “Have what?”

  “That bread mask you promised me! You said you’d bring it today, and time is running out for my pre-gala beautification plan.”

  Cass slapped her hand against her forehead. “Sasha, I’m sorry. I’ve had so much on my mind. I totally spaced on this.”

  Sasha was frowning. “What’s going on, Charlie? Frankly, today wasn’t the best. Arriving looking like something the cat dragged in, clearly not doing your homework, and then taking Austin’s recipe to try and cover your ass . . . Not your best look. You did manage to save the day with that great recipe for sticky toffee date square pudding. But it was too close for comfort. Not what I expect from my star chef who is looking to host her own show. Got it?”

  Cass felt indignant. Was this how her sister was treated every day? But she had no idea what to say to Sasha. She needed to talk to Charlie. There had to be a way to make Sasha see Austin for who he really was, rather than him blaming everything on her. “I’m just a bit tired,” she said, hating how lame that sounded.

  “Is it the concussion? Austin said he thought you were acting a bit off, and I have to say I’m beginning to agree with him.”

  “It’s not the concussion. I didn’t sleep well last night. There’s . . . some stuff going on back home with my family’s bakery. I’ve been distracted. But it won’t happen again.”

  “I expect more from you, Charlie. There’s a lot on the line here—for everyone. And even though you pulled off a bit of a miracle in there today, you still need to pull it together. Got it?”

  Cass knew Austin was right in one regard—her behavior was indeed completely out of character. And Charlie, if the situation were reversed, would never have let it get to this point. She’d never be standing in front of her boss, cowed and near tears. Cass swallowed hard and straightened her shoulders, knowing her only job right now was to convince Sasha her worries were for naught.

  “Like I said, it won’t happen again. You have my word.”

  * * *

  • • •

  Cass walked toward the car, distracted by thoughts of Austin and how ostentatious he was even when she outperformed him, as well as her promise to Sasha, and so it took her a moment to recognize the attractive, dark-haired couple ahead of her. She slowed and watched as Miguel stood beside an Uber, opening the car’s door for the beautiful woman Cass had seen him with in the audience. Jacintha, Miguel’s wife. As Cass watched, the two embraced before Jacintha got in the Uber and Miguel shut the door, waving as the car pulled away.

  “Hey,” Miguel said, spotting her as he turned.

  “Hey,” Cass replied, now standing beside Charlie’s Prius. “I can’t thank you enough for the recipe inspiration. You saved me.”

  “I only greased the tins,” he said. Cass smiled at his clever baking reference. “You were the one who pulled it off. And the look on Austin’s face when he realized what was happening . . .” Miguel chuckled. “My sister and I were impressed. She’ll be so disappointed not to have met you in person. But she had to get back to work.”

  “Your sister!” Cass exclaimed. “I mean, um, I’m sorry I missed the chance to meet her, too. Some other time, I hope.”

  “I hope so, too,” Miguel said.

  They stood looking at each other for a moment, and it seemed like Miguel was about to say something el
se. But then the moment was over.

  “Well, I better get home. That was a long day.” She unlocked the car door, then added, “Thanks for coming today.”

  “Thanks again for the tickets.”

  “Bye, Miguel,” she said, getting into the Prius. Cass leaned back against the headrest and closed her eyes.

  A tapping sound at her window made her eyes fly open. Miguel.

  Cass started the car and pressed the button to open the driver’s side window, giving Miguel a weak smile as she did. It didn’t even matter that she’d just discovered the beautiful Jacintha was his sister—there was no way he’d be interested in her, outside of her medical issue. Every single time they’d run into each other, she was in some sort of distress. He probably thought she was a complete disaster.

  He rested his hands on the open window’s frame. “As a proper thank-you for today, would you like to have dinner with me? Maybe tomorrow night?”

  “Oh.” Well, this was a surprise. And she couldn’t think of anything she’d rather do more. “I’d like that. A lot. More than you can possibly know.” Easy, Cass. It’s just dinner.

  “I’ve got a local favorite,” Miguel said, flashing her a smile and those adorable dimples. “Fabrizio’s, about a block away from the Hive. Do you know it?”

  Even though she wasn’t familiar with any of the restaurants in the neighborhood, Charlie would have been. “Sure. That place is great. So, tomorrow night. Is seven-thirty okay?”

  “Seven-thirty it is.” Miguel tapped his palms twice against the window frame, and took a step back, his smile widening.

  “Can’t wait,” Cass said, which was the truth. She’d been bone tired just moments before, fantasizing about getting back to her sister’s apartment to rest. But now she felt elated. Miguel waved as she pulled away, that smile the only thing on Cass’s mind as she drove back to Santa Monica, humming “All I Want for Christmas Is You” along to the radio.