The Holiday Swap

by Maggie Knox

  8

  Charlie

  Thursday: 9 Days Until Christmas . . .

  Starlight Peak

  “Can I ask you about something?” It was early morning and Walter was mixing dough for the popular Woodburn Breads take-home gingerbread house sets.

  “Sure thing,” Charlie said, sorting gumdrops, chocolates, and sprinkles into small containers for the kits.

  “I wanted to talk to you about your sister.”

  “Okay,” Charlie said, wondering where this conversation was heading.

  “What Charlie does is so cool. And I was wondering if maybe I could talk to her? About the show? I have some career-related questions.”

  Charlie smiled. She had been a lot like Walter when she was his age, already focused on her future career as well. “I’m sure she’d be happy to talk with you. But what questions? Maybe I can help?”

  Walter turned the gingerbread dough out onto the countertop. “School is sort of frustrating. I don’t exactly blend in, as you know.” He shrugged, and Charlie wondered what he meant. Maybe because he was a seventeen-year-old guy who preferred kneading dough and crafting confections at 5:30 a.m. side-by-side with his boss than spending time with kids his own age, doing typical teenager things. And Charlie had the sense by looking at him, with his lanky and still-scrawny frame, that athletics probably weren’t his strong suit. High school was tough at the best of times, even when you were popular enough.

  But she needed to act like Cass, who obviously knew all of this already, so she nodded in agreement. “Sure.”

  “I love working here, but sometimes I just want to get out of Starlight Peak, you know? I thought, maybe, I could ask Charlie about internships for these shows?”

  “You want to be on television?” Charlie asked, closing up the containers of candy. Walter continued rolling out the dough, his movements efficient and smooth.

  “Well . . . maybe.” He smiled, and she noticed he was blushing. “But it’s not just that. Charlie’s such a talented pastry chef.” Suddenly, he looked even more embarrassed. “And so are you, Cass. I mean it. I’ve learned so much from you.”

  Charlie laughed. “Don’t worry, I get it. Lemon squares and gingerbread houses aren’t exactly challenging. I get a little bored sometimes, too.” Though she felt that way, she wondered if Cass was content baking the same offerings, week after week.

  “But you’re amazing at what you do,” Walter said, so earnestly. “You always tell me the truly talented pastry chef is one who can master the basics and understand the fundamentals rather than all the . . . What is it you call it?”

  Charlie had no clue. “Um . . .”

  “Razzle-dazzle! That’s what you always say. That those fancy restaurant desserts and the ones on television are just a lot of razzle-dazzle.”

  “Right,” Charlie said, her smile fading. Was that really what Cass thought of her work?

  “I want to go to culinary school, like Charlie, and I thought that between working here and getting some experience on a show like Sweet and Salty, well, I’d have an easier time getting in?”

  “I’d be happy to write you a glowing reference.”

  Charlie bent down to check on the lemon squares she’d put in the oven earlier. “I don’t know how anyone lives in Starlight Peak past high school, to be honest.” She froze, realizing her mistake. “I mean, I don’t know how anyone who wants to be a world-class pastry chef lives here forever.”

  “But you’re world-class! And you live here not because you have to, but because you want to.”

  Charlie considered that. It had been years since she’d left Starlight Peak, and her family always assumed she would be the one to go because her aspirations stretched beyond what the bakery could offer. That meant that Cass, who had never expressed a desire to leave their hometown, would stay and help their parents with Woodburn Breads. But now Charlie wondered if Cass ever felt stifled here. If it really had been as easy for her to stay as it had been for Charlie to leave.

  Charlie pushed aside this niggling doubt, and the hint of guilt that came with it, and smiled at Walter. “Listen, I know Charlie would love to talk to you. I promise to hook you two up as soon as the show wraps and we get through the holidays, okay?”

  “Thanks, Cass.” Walter was about to go back to his dough rolling when the bakery’s phone rang. “Happy Holidays! Woodburn Breads, Walter speaking.”

  A moment later he held out the handset. “It’s for you.”

  Charlie slid off her oven mitts, then took the handset from Walter. “Char—Cass speaking.” She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, annoyed at her endless mistakes. By the time she finally got the hang of things, it would be time to switch back.

  “Cass?” A familiar voice greeted her.

  “Hey, Jake.” Her stomach flip-flopped, and she glanced over at Walter, who seemed oblivious to her change in demeanor.

  “I hope I’m not calling too early,” he said. Then she heard him muffle the phone on his end while he spoke with someone. “Before I forget, Gran would like to order a dozen lemon squares for her book club. Clearly that’s the priority here this morning . . . at six-thirty a.m.”

  Charlie laughed as she wrote the order down in the book. “I just took some out of the oven. We’ll box them up for her.”

  “Hey, thanks,” Jake said, and Charlie twisted the cord around her fingers, her whole body warming as she remembered the evening before—something she had been trying to avoid thinking about all morning. “So, I thought I could come by later to scope out some shots, once the bakery closes? Only if it works for you. I know you’re pretty slammed right now.”

  “That works,” Charlie said, her mood lifted even further by the prospect of seeing Jake again. She tried to tell herself her excitement was more about getting the photos done and the website up and running, rather than the person on the other end of the phone. But she knew it wasn’t true. “What time are you thinking?”

  “How about five-thirty?”

  “That’s perfect. Can’t wait.” Walter looked over now, his eyebrows raised. She smiled at him, aware she was blushing.

  “Me, too. Okay, see you then, Cass. And Gran says thanks for the lemon squares.”

  Charlie hung up the phone, her smile still in place.

  “How’s Jake doing?” Walter asked, cutting out sections of gingerbread for baking.

  “Good! Yeah, he was just calling about lemon squares. And, well, I was thinking this place needs more of an online presence, and Jake offered to take some photos for us, for a website.” Charlie focused on transferring the squares to the cooling racks. “I was thinking maybe we could start some sort of livestream of the bakery?”

  Walter wiped his hands on his apron, then walked over and pressed a palm against Charlie’s forehead. “Nope, no temperature.”

  “Very funny,” Charlie said. She bent her head over the lemon squares, hoping to detect their fragrant smell. Nothing.

  “But your parents prefer the old-fashioned way, right?” Walter said. “No website, no social media, a landline.”

  “If a chain bakery moves into town and Woodburn Breads hasn’t joined the twenty-first century . . . I’m worried what that could mean for business.” Charlie may have only been tasked with running the bakery for the week, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help her family—and the future of Woodburn Breads—in a more permanent way.

  “I think it’s a great idea,” Walter said. “You know, Live.Li could be a good option.”

  “Live.Li?” Charlie asked.

  Walter nodded. “It’s a livestreaming platform, but it has some cool features and it’s not just a mobile app. I’m happy to help you set it up on the laptop if you want?”

  “That would be great,” Charlie said. “But we need some photos before we do anything. So Jake’s coming over after closing.” She kept her face as blank
as she could. But she failed as the corners of her mouth twitched into an unavoidable smile.

  “Jake is a really nice guy,” Walter added, noticing her smile. “He came to school and taught us a first aid class last month.”

  “Hmm-mmm,” Charlie replied, only half listening now. It was no use. She had pushed it aside all day but now she was remembering the way the previous evening had ended: Jake had walked her home after dinner at the pub. And when he’d said goodbye she’d been certain, for a split second, that he’d wanted to kiss her. And she had wanted him to.

  “Why is your face so red?”

  Charlie put her hands to her cheeks. “It’s hot in here! From the ovens, obviously.”

  Walter smiled, smarter than most kids his age when it came to reading people, and switched on the table fan. “Better?”

  “Much,” Charlie replied, letting the fan’s breeze cool her flaming cheeks.

  * * *

  • • •

  Jake took a few test shots, looking for the best angles and lighting. After adjusting the camera’s settings and lenses, he crouched to take a photo of the bakery’s glass showcase, and Charlie watched him as he worked.

  She liked what she saw—a lot. The way he handled the camera, how intense his focus was, and how he had such a great eye for what would make the best shot, which he proved when he showed her a couple of the photos. He was an artist, and it reminded her of the way she felt when she was creating recipes for Souci, and now on Sweet & Salty.

  “I’m impressed,” she said, as they scrolled through some of his photos. The bakery had always been charming, but he made it come alive.

  “Thanks. When we do this for real we’ll start with some shots of the bakery itself,” Jake said. “I think the lighting will be great late morning. And then a few action shots with you doing your thing, okay?”

  “Yes to the first idea, a hard no to the second,” Charlie replied. “No photos of me. I just want to showcase the bakery.” It didn’t feel right to step into her sister’s shoes in this case. This was Cass’s domain, and if anyone’s photo were to be attached to it, it should be hers.

  Her heart pounded as she watched his muscled arms lifting the camera, saw his gorgeous olive-green eyes sweep the room . . . No, she wasn’t wishing he would turn those stunning eyes on her . . . No, not at all. Except all of a sudden, he was looking at her.

  “You are the bakery, Cass. You’re the face of Woodburn Breads. Between your personality, and your skill . . . that’s what I want to capture,” Jake said. “Not to mention, well, just look at you.”

  Charlie held her breath.

  “You make my job easy, Cass.” He said it quietly, then quickly turned his attention back to his camera. Charlie wondered if she’d heard him right. Had Jake just admitted that he found her attractive? I think you’re pretty easy on the eyes, too, Jake. Oh, God. Don’t embarrass yourself, Charlie. Besides, he thinks you’re Cass. He doesn’t even really know you . . .

  To hide her once-again-flaming cheeks—something that seemed to be happening frequently when Jake was nearby, or even at the mention of his name—Charlie mumbled something about having left something in her car and hightailed it toward the bakery’s back door.

  Outside, she leaned against the backyard’s massive oak tree, the one she and Cass had climbed when they’d wanted a break from helping their parents in the bakery. It was cold and almost dark, but she needed a moment to regroup. Wrapping her arms around herself, she shivered a little, her breath coming out in crystalline puffs in the frigid winter air.

  Come on, Charlie. Stop acting like you have a high-school crush. But the truth was, even in high school, Charlie had been more levelheaded about her crushes than this. She needed a day off, even though that was impossible at the moment. It occurred to her that she hadn’t taken a proper day off in . . . She couldn’t even remember the last time.

  Charlie startled when a lumbering figure moved toward her. “Oh, hey, Bonnie.” She’d forgotten that Jake’s rescue dog was in the yard, burning off some energy while Jake and Charlie worked inside. Bonnie’s tongue lolled from the side of her mouth, and she looked like she was smiling. Charlie laughed when Bonnie put her furry head under Charlie’s hand and nudged, requesting some attention. She obligingly rubbed behind Bonnie’s ears.

  Suddenly Bonnie pulled away, barking and taking off like a shot after something running through the yard. At first glance Charlie thought it was a large black squirrel, until she got a closer look.

  Oh no—

  That was no squirrel. That was . . .

  “Gateau!” Charlie shouted, pushing off the tree and running across the yard after the black streak that was her sister’s cat. But Bonnie was ahead of her, giving gleeful chase. “Bonnie, no! Stop! Halt? Come! Arghhh!”

  It was no use. Charlie had no clue which commands might work to stop Bonnie chasing Gateau, who now jumped from the snow-crusted ground to the trunk of the monumental oak, scrambling up it with surprising speed. Gateau hovered in the tree’s upper branches, swishing her shiny black tail while Bonnie stood on her back legs, front paws scrabbling uselessly against the gnarled bark, howling out her indignation that the game was over.

  “Bonnie, sit!” Jake’s voice bellowed in the yard. Bonnie immediately came down on her haunches, her long pink tongue hanging out of her mouth again as she panted. She looked at Jake, waiting for his next command.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  He glanced up to where Charlie pointed, her arm trembling with the cold and adrenaline.

  “Oh no,” he said. “Okay, hang on while I put Bonnie in the truck. We’ll get Gateau down, don’t worry.” Jake grabbed Bonnie by the collar. “Come on, girl.”

  “It’s too cold in the truck,” Charlie protested. “Go ahead and put Bonnie inside. Just close the door to the bakery.”

  “It’s my fault,” Charlie said when Jake returned. “I must not have closed the door all the way. I didn’t even think about it! I completely forgot about Gateau.” Cass would kill her if anything happened to the cat. Tears sprung to her eyes as she imagined admitting to her sister what she’d done.

  “Hey, take a breath,” Jake said, putting an arm around her. He was warm and strong, and she relaxed against him. “I’ll get her down. It’s kind of what I do, remember? Cats in trees are no big deal for firefighters.”

  “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Jake chuckled, releasing her. “Well, if I wasn’t here, Bonnie wouldn’t have chased Gateau up the tree, so . . .”

  “Fair point,” she conceded, her teeth chattering.

  Jake took off his hoodie and handed it to her. “Here. You’re freezing.” As she zipped up the garment, she caught a mild whiff of something unfamiliar . . . Was it smoke?

  “I know, it smells like a campfire. I started a fire for Gran before I left.”

  She sniffed deeply. Yes, it was mild, but it was there. Smoke. The relief at realizing her sense of smell was returning nearly overwhelmed her, but she fought to keep it hidden. She put the hood up and grinned at Jake. “Thank you,” she said, her teeth already chattering less.

  “You’re welcome.” He smiled and tugged gently on the strings on either side of the hood, cinching it closer to her head. She probably looked ridiculous, but she didn’t even care.

  “So,” Jake added, looking around the yard. “We should do this before we lose the last bit of light. Is there a ladder somewhere?”

  “Leaning against the side of the bakery,” Charlie replied, hoping that was still where her dad kept it.

  “I can’t believe this happened. I’m such an idiot,” she said once Jake returned with the bulky aluminum ladder. It was ancient and unwieldy, though he handled it like it was nothing more than a plastic garden chair.

  “Are you kidding me? It’s my dog who’s the idiot. Listen to her in there, still barking like a fool.” As
if on cue, Bonnie let out another series of high-pitched barks. They both laughed. “I love her, but . . .”

  “Hey, she’s a work in progress, right?” Charlie moved out of the way so Jake could place the extendable ladder against the tree’s sturdy trunk. “Maybe we’re all just works in progress.”

  Jake settled the ladder, testing it to make sure it was secure before glancing back at her. “Feeling philosophical today, are we, Cass?”

  She shrugged. “Panic over possibly losing your pet will do that to you, I guess.”

  Jake held the ladder with one hand and reached for her with his other. His green eyes held hers as his fingers wrapped around her hand, giving a gentle squeeze. “You’re not going to lose Gateau, Cass. I promise. I’ll have her down in a few minutes. You don’t have anything to worry about. Okay?”

  Then he let go of her hand and started climbing the ladder. Charlie held the rails against the tree, keeping it secure as he climbed. Her head was spinning as she watched Jake go higher, one rung at a time. But this time she knew the slight dizziness had nothing to do with her concussion and more to do with the handsome and kind-hearted firefighter climbing the ladder in front of her.

  Soon, Jake was face-to-face with Gateau. “Is she okay?” Charlie asked, raising her voice so Jake could hear her over Bonnie’s barking.

  “She’s fine,” Jake said, then Charlie heard him speaking softly to the cat, obviously keeping her calm as he reached for her. A moment later, Gateau tucked under one arm, he made his way back down the ladder, murmuring to the feline the entire time.

  “I don’t blame you one bit,” Charlie heard him saying once he got closer to the ground. “Bonnie’s sweet, but not as smart as you. She didn’t mean it.” Charlie was not an animal person, not like her sister, but the sight of Jake talking so seriously to Gateau was an image she never wanted to forget.