The Holiday Swap

by Maggie Knox

  “I take back what I said earlier. You and Charlie are definitely different,” Priya said, raising an eyebrow as Cass took a sizable gulp of her drink. “Cheers, lady.”

  Cass air clinked her glass to Priya’s, and then felt her phone vibrate inside her crossbody purse. She reached inside her bag, and upon seeing her screen, smiled.

  “What? What is that smile about?” Priya asked.

  “Nothing. Just a smile.”

  “Uh-uh. No way you’re getting off that easily. That smile wasn’t ‘just’ a smile. It was a smile.”

  Cass laughed. “Fine. You’ve cracked me wide open. It’s a message from a . . . friend.”

  “What sort of friend? A cute physician assistant friend?” Priya grinned, and Cass blushed. “Show me. Immediately.”

  Cass flipped her phone around to show the text from Miguel, but as soon as she did, her giddy feeling dissipated and a heaviness settled into her stomach.

  “Whoa, what happened to happy Cass? This looks like ‘just had a run-in with jerky Austin’ face.” Priya cupped Cass’s chin, forcing her eyes up.

  “I screwed up,” Cass said, sighing heavily.

  “Come on now. It can’t be that bad?”

  “It is. He thinks I’m Charlie. But I don’t want to lie anymore. I want to tell him the truth.”

  “Then why don’t you?” Priya held up her two fingers again to the bartender.

  “I don’t know how?” Cass shrugged.

  Priya nodded, then grabbed the phone out of Cass’s hand.

  “What are you doing? Priya, what are you doing?”

  A moment later Priya handed the phone back to Cass. “There. You’re welcome.”

  Cass’s mouth hung open as she glanced between Priya and her phone’s screen, where Miguel was already typing a response, the ghost dots wiggling. Her heart raced as she quickly scanned Priya’s text, which was right underneath Miguel’s original message: Thinking about you. Hope you’re having a good day.

  Thinking about you, too, Priya had texted on Cass’s behalf. Then: Would love to see you.

  Finally, Miguel’s response.

  Great minds . . . Are you free Sunday? I have an idea.

  “Now you can go blow off some steam. Have fun. Forget about the show and stupid Austin for a day. Enjoy Miguel. Because if you don’t, someone else might.” Priya pointed at herself. “Just saying.”

  Cass swallowed hard, her stomach in knots at the idea of seeing Miguel again. This was starting to feel more serious . . . and she had no plan.

  “Cass, it’s okay to not have everything figured out,” Priya said, as if reading her mind. “And if the opportunity comes up to tell him what’s really going on, then you can take it. Or not. Your choice.”

  She was desperate to believe Priya’s words. Then, with slightly shaking fingers and the courage that comes from too many cocktails, she replied to Miguel.

  12

  Charlie

  Saturday: 7 Days Until Christmas . . .

  Starlight Peak

  “Good morning, sunshine!” Walter deadpanned, sweeping fluffy snowflakes off the shoulder of his parka before hanging it up near the front of the bakery. “Hey, what’s with you? Do I need to put on another pot of coffee?”

  Charlie was hunched over the countertop in the middle of the bakery’s workroom, staring morosely into her empty coffee cup. “Sure,” she said distractedly. “More coffee would be good.”

  Except, it wouldn’t. Nothing was going to make her feel better—certainly not another cup of coffee—even if Walter did make the best coffee, often adding a pinch of cinnamon to the grounds and a dash of vanilla to the pot once it had brewed, something Charlie had decided she was going to start doing once she returned to L.A. Surely, adding these little touches to her former life would make her less homesick when she was gone. Perhaps it would be that simple—when the time came, of course.

  She had caved the night before and told Cass that yes, a few more days would be fine. It had been too tempting to resist—she was heartsick over Jake and wanted just a few more days to see if she could make it right. But now she was filled with regret. She had failed to send her sister the recipe file, putting her career at risk. Now, she wasn’t going back and taking her life over the way she should, electing instead to stay home. No man was worth risking her career—which was why Charlie was so perplexed. Because it wasn’t just Jake. She’d been standing at the countertop contemplating the true reasons for her reluctance to step back into her life for so long her feet ached. From a distance, she was starting to realize her picture-perfect life in L.A. was anything but.

  And also that, yes, she had developed some very strong feelings for a man she wasn’t being honest with.

  Ding. She glanced at the incoming text and smiled despite her morose mood when she saw it was from her dad. Apparently, Cass had tried to teach Thomas how to take selfies—but throughout the week, each attempt had been funnier than the last. The most recent one he had sent only included the top of his and Helen’s heads, but this one was worse: one ear and the deck of the ship. Charlie stared down at the screen, struck by how much she missed her parents—and how much, the night before, she had wanted to be told by Cass that it was okay to stay where she was. Things were complicated in Starlight Peak—but it was home. Over the past year, she had forgotten that.

  Walter had busied himself with the coffeepot but now came to stand beside her. “So, what’s going on?”

  Charlie put her phone away. “I had trouble sleeping last night,” she said, which was not a lie. After her phone call with Cass she had tossed and turned all night, finally coming down to the bakery hours earlier than usual—which meant that even with all her daydreaming about Jake, she had completed all her usual morning tasks and almost everything was ready for Walter to start baking. “Worried about the Starlight loaves, I guess.”

  “We’re getting there,” Walter said. “Don’t worry. And we still have time. Woodburn’s will come through.” Then he paused and tilted his head. “You sure it’s just the bread that’s got you so concerned, though? Because, well, the rumor mill in town is churning, and I don’t think I need to tell you who the hot topic is.”

  Charlie felt a lump rise to her throat and shook her head. “You don’t need to tell me,” she said. “There is nothing going on with me aside from the fact that Brett still doesn’t understand that we are over, and he is irrationally jealous of Jake, someone I am just friends with.” It didn’t sound true when she said it, and she could tell from the way Walter cocked an eyebrow at her that he didn’t believe her.

  “Sure, whatever you say, boss.” Walter picked up the camera Jake had left behind. All morning, Charlie had been doing her best to ignore the camera—a reminder of Jake. “Hey, did he take those photos for the website?” Walter had turned the camera on and was scrolling through. “Awesome! He’s really good . . . and, yep, as I expected, these are great. Have you looked at them yet?

  “Wow.” He glanced up at her.

  “What?”

  “This is a great picture of you.” He handed her the camera. She accepted it and stared at an image of herself from the night before. Jake must have snapped it while she wasn’t paying attention. The photo was of Charlie working on proofing the bread: her face was makeup free, her hair in a messy bun, and she was wearing the bakery’s nonfussy “uniform” of an apron and simple long-sleeved T-shirt—which couldn’t be more different from the expensive, flattering outfits she wore on set in L.A., yet she had never looked as good in the production stills.

  She hit the power button on the camera, shutting it off, and the image disappeared. “It’s just a photo,” she said, but her throat had gone dry.

  Walter was watching her closely. “I never said it was anything more than just a photo. Taken by a good friend.”

  “Exactly,” Charlie said. But even that brought wi
th it a pang, because she and Jake weren’t even friends anymore, let alone good ones.

  “You know what?” Charlie picked up the camera. “I’m just going to take this upstairs and put it in my apartment so we don’t spill anything on it. I’m sure Jake will notice he left it here and be back to pick it up later.” She felt another pang as she said this—but this one was more hopeful. The idea of seeing him, even just to return the camera, lifted her spirits. Except, she reminded herself, there wasn’t much to be hopeful about. He doesn’t really know you. Imagine if he knew the truth, that you’ve been lying about who you are this whole time?

  She walked around the back of the bakery toward the entrance to Cass’s apartment but paused in the doorway, camera still in hand. Charlie couldn’t help herself: she wanted to look at the picture again. Leaning against the wall she scrolled through the images of the bakery until she found it again. When was the last time she had looked that relaxed? She had seen many photos of herself in this whirlwind of a year, but she had never looked so herself in any of them.

  The truth was, Jake really did know her. It was just . . . he had no idea who he knew.

  Charlie looked at the picture again but realized what she wanted was to see a photo of Jake. Ignoring the voice in her head that reminded her she had no business scrolling through Jake’s photos, she pressed the arrow again, and the setting changed from the bakery, to landscape shots from Starlight Peak, to a few photos of Faye, sitting beside a hearth with Jake’s dog, Bonnie, beside her. Charlie was unable to stop scrolling, even as her hands began to sweat and her heart raced and she knew she should. She sped past a few photos that had clearly been taken for Brett, of the interiors and exteriors of staged homes, before the landscape changed again, this time to mountain ranges with no snow—which meant, Charlie realized, that the seasons had changed and this was clearly summertime in Colorado.

  Her heart pounded as she stood in the chilly entranceway, continuing to scroll—she knew she couldn’t stop now. There was a dog in a few of the photos, but it wasn’t Bonnie. It was a German shepherd with one floppy ear.

  In the next photo, the mystery dog was by the side of a dark-haired woman. She was looking down at the dog in the first photo, but in the next she was grinning at the camera—or, rather, at the person behind the camera. At Jake. Photo after photo of the same woman, laughing openmouthed, then putting her hands in front of her face, or waving them about, as if to say, “Would you stop taking pictures of me already?”

  This woman was beautiful, with long, dark, and glossy hair. Her eyes were wide-set and her lips were full and pouty. Hand shaking, Charlie turned the camera off again. But instead of heading up to Cass’s apartment, the way she had intended, she pivoted on her heel and strode toward Cass’s car, calling over her shoulder, “Walter, I just have to run a quick errand!”

  She started the car and turned down the main road, heading out of town. Charlie needed to get the camera back to Jake. She already knew she was not going to be able to resist the temptation of turning it on again, of diving even deeper into his personal life, finding out more she didn’t want to know about his past—about the fact that, clearly, she was not the only woman he took perfect photos of.

  What she needed to do was salvage their friendship, and fast, Charlie told herself as she drove. Cass would be coming home to Starlight Peak soon, and Charlie would be heading back to L.A. There were still a few things she needed to do for her sister before that. And patching up Cass’s friendship with Jake was definitely one of them.

  * * *

  • • •

  “Cassie! What a pleasant surprise!” Faye stepped back and opened her door wide, and Charlie was reminded of how fond she was of the older woman, a familiar figure from her childhood and youth—and how important it was to pretend she saw her all the time at the bakery. “But, if you’re here to see Jake,” Faye went on, “I’m afraid he’s not in. He’s off to the fire station already, and his shift lasts until tomorrow. Now, wait. Did he send you over here to check up on me? I told him it was fine for him to take those twenty-four-hour shifts, but he insisted he was going to call and check on me every few hours. I swear, that boy—”

  “No, no,” Charlie said, holding out the camera. “He didn’t send me. But he was taking photos for me yesterday of the bakery, for a project I’m working on, and he left his camera behind. I’m just returning it.”

  “That’s mighty kind of you,” Faye said. “He sure does love that camera of his. Did a whole photo session last week, of me and that fool dog of his. Thank goodness they allow dogs at the fire station, because she sure is a handful. Nothing like his last dog.” Now her bright blue eyes lost a touch of their sparkle. “But that’s not something he likes to discuss.” Faye had to be talking about the dog she had seen in the photos, the one with the beautiful woman—Jake’s ex, she assumed.

  “Do you want to come in for some coffee and a bit of cake? And before you think I’ve been cheating on you with another bakery, I was cleaning out my deep freeze yesterday and found a bag of last summer’s rhubarb, so I decided to whip up a batch of rhubarb cake.”

  “Oh, well, I should really get back to the bakery,” Charlie said. Still, she found herself stepping inside, Jake’s camera still in hand.

  “I have a fresh pot on. I insist,” Faye said. “A little hospitality is the least I can offer you, considering how kind you always are to me.”

  In the small, sun-filled kitchen with yellow gingham curtained windows—windows that faced the distant peaks the town was known for—Faye filled a mug (#1 Grandma) from a mismatched collection on a shelf.

  “My Jake gave me that when he was just a little boy,” Faye told her. “He’d be embarrassed for me to tell you that, of course. I think he’s taken a shine to you, young lady. He’d be embarrassed by that, too, but he’s not here, is he?”

  Charlie forced a smile she hoped wasn’t too wobbly. “Same here,” she said. “I enjoy our friendship very much.”

  Faye poured herself a coffee, then walked over to the kitchen table and beckoned for Charlie to join her. “ ‘Friendship,’ ” Faye said. “You have seen the way he’s been looking at you lately, right? I’ll be honest, I’d been hoping for a match even though, yes, I am aware, you were supposedly engaged to that Realtor.” The way she said Realtor, Charlie immediately gathered that Faye was not a fan of Brett’s. Join the club, she wanted to say.

  “But then I heard through the grapevine . . . Well, I don’t have to tell you. So I started to hope.” She shrugged, smiled. “I know I’m being quite direct here, but when you get to be my age, direct is really all you have time for.”

  “Faye,” Charlie said. “I hate to disappoint you, I really do, but there’s nothing going on between us. We enjoy each other’s company.”

  “Ah, well, I suppose I should allow you young people to take all the time you need, despite my own selfish wishes. And my grandson probably does need time to heal, after that mess in Colorado. The custody battle really took its toll on him. And Nadia . . . well. Let’s just say, she is nothing like you, Cass.”

  Nadia. So that was her name. But, custody battle? Charlie needed a minute to process that. Except, of course, if she really was Jake’s good friend, she should know all about a custody battle. She nodded her head, hoping she appeared sage and knowing. “Indeed,” she said. “It really has been hard on him. It certainly isn’t the time for him to be jumping into any new relationships.”

  Faye’s bright blue eyes held hers. “Cassie, on hard days, you’ve told me your doubts about Brett. And remember what I said? The only way out is through. You’re tough enough to do it, I know you are.” Then Faye stood, and clapped her hands together. “But enough serious talk. Let me cut you some of that cake I promised,” she said, her back now turned. “If I can get Cass Goodwin’s approval in the kitchen, then I’ll know I’ve really arrived.”

  Charlie played with the handle
of her mug as Faye bustled about the kitchen, thinking about what Faye had just said to her and staring out the windows at the distant peaks, now imagining the other mountains in Jake’s life—mountains he had told her nothing about. Nadia and Colorado. A custody battle. She had thought her life was complicated—but, it turned out, Jake’s was even more so. The only way out is through, Faye had said. She would get through this.

  On the bright side, it appeared that no matter what happened, her sister had a true fan—and trusted confidante—in Faye Christie, who had placed a slice of rhubarb cake in front of Charlie and was waiting expectantly for her to taste it.

  Charlie took a bite of the moist cake, which was a perfect combination of sweet and tart, and reminded her of summers gone by. “It’s delicious, Faye. Truly it is.”

  Faye beamed at her and Charlie smiled, grateful for the coffee, the cake, and Faye’s wise words.

  “That’s better,” Faye said. “You were looking a little downtrodden when you came in, but this fixed you right up. It’s like I always say, ‘Time heals all things. If time fails, try cake.’ ”

  Charlie laughed and set another bite of the cake on her fork. “I’ll remember that one, Faye. I promise you.”

  13

  Cass

  Sunday: 6 Days Until Christmas . . .

  Los Angeles

  Cass struggled to lift Charlie’s surfboard from the roof rack on the Prius and almost dropped it—she’d had a hard enough time getting it on the roof rack at all—just as Miguel pulled up alongside her. He jumped out of his car.

  “Here, let me help with that.”

  At the sight of him, she felt herself go weak at the knees—which did not help her grip on the surfboard. “Whoa . . .”