The Holiday Swap

by Maggie Knox

  “Someone is feeling confident,” Austin said, leaning over to take a deep inhale. “But . . . maybe a bit heavy on that orange, Charlie? A touch bitter on the nose. Guess we’ll see.” He winked into the camera. Cass gritted her teeth but kept her smile intact.

  She read her line off the prompter. “Okay, Austin, let’s see what you’ve brought to the table.” Then, ignoring the next line—another weak joke about there being too many cooks in the kitchen and that only one of them could be victorious—she looked into the camera and said, “I sure hope this cake of yours can rise to the challenge.”

  “You never have to worry about me—or my cakes—rising to any challenges, Charlie,” Austin replied, his charm on full force for the camera. “So this is my gram’s amaretto and apricot cake. I’ve been making it with her every Christmas since, as she says, I was ‘wet behind the ears.’ ” He bent down to open the oven door, the white bar towel in hand to take out the Bundt pan. “Simple to glaze with amaretto icing and some candied spiced apricots, this will wow any—”

  Austin paused. He stared into the oven, confusion crossing his face. His eyebrows knitted together.

  Cass tried to catch a glimpse inside the oven, dramatizing her movements for the camera. “Enough with the suspense, Austin. Let’s see your grandmother’s cake.” She smiled wide, covering the moment as Austin continued staring into the oven. Sasha gave Cass a look, and then whispered something to Sydney, who was standing beside her. The assistant shrugged, and Sasha frowned.

  “Uh . . . is everything okay, Austin?” Cass asked, keeping her tone light. “Here, let me help.” She quickly slipped on an oven mitt and bent down beside Austin, pulling out the Bundt pan. Then she, and everyone else on set, saw what had rendered the great Austin Nash speechless.

  His dessert was pancake flat inside the pan.

  “Oh, dear,” Cass said, setting it down onto the workstation beside her glorious, perfectly puffed gingerbread cake. She cringed, extra animated for the camera, and said, “I guess sometimes you do have trouble rising to the occasion?”

  Austin stared at his failed cake. Sasha yelled cut, and marched over to the hosts. Just then Austin turned to Cass and hissed, “What did you do, Goodwin?”

  “What did Charlie do?” Sasha repeated, then huffed. “She baked a gorgeous-looking cake, and you . . . You baked something that could pass for a ringette ring!”

  When Cass and Austin both gave Sasha perplexed looks, she said, “My mom’s Canadian. Ringette’s sort of like hockey, except instead of a puck you pass a rubber ring around the ice.” Then she waved her hands around, as though clearing the air in front of her. “Doesn’t matter. We are short on time and I am short on patience. Ideally we would have two perfect cakes here, but you know what? This is fun.” Austin looked at Sasha in a way that showed he did not think anything about this was “fun.”

  “I think the audience will like to see that even the experts make mistakes, right?” Sasha continued, hands on her hips as she looked between Cass and Austin. “And that they can handle missteps with grace and humility.”

  Sasha was clearly speaking directly to Austin, but he wasn’t listening. Instead he was running his finger down the recipe on the tablet his nervous-looking assistant had brought him.

  “Nothing’s missing. I added everything. Flour. Yes. Sugar, yup. Amaretto, two teaspoons . . .” he muttered under his breath. Cass stood beside him, locking eyes with Sydney. “Baking powder, added. Baking soda . . .” Austin paused, tapped the screen, then looked at his assistant. “The baking soda got added, right?”

  “I think so,” Nathan squeaked out. “But, uh, I was making the candied apricots at the time.”

  Sydney and Cass exchanged a quick but telling look. Then Cass said, “Austin, we really need to get these iced.”

  “Give me a minute!” he said, loudly enough that Sasha turned around, her glare causing him to wilt slightly.

  “Fine,” Austin said, sighing deeply. He was rattled and Cass took a moment to enjoy that she was responsible for his current demeanor.

  Because what he didn’t know, would never know, was that Cass had enlisted Sydney—who was still ticked off about when Austin (via Nathan) stole Cass’s recipe idea from under her nose—to make a slight change to the amaretto cake recipe. She’d removed the baking soda line, and then added it back in once the cake was in the oven. There were plenty of people on set at any given time, so switching tablets wasn’t easy, but Sydney had distracted Nathan by telling him Sasha insisted he find star anise in the spice room, and then after he left she’d made the change to the recipe. Once the cakes were baking, which was when the assistants took short breaks, Sydney added the line back to the recipe and voilà—no one was the wiser. Without baking soda, necessary to leaven the cake, Austin’s dessert came out flat and dreary . . . not dissimilar to how he looked right now.

  “Okay, everyone,” Sasha said. “Cakes iced and decorated, ready for the final shots.”

  Austin leaned in, lowering his voice to a mere hiss. “I know you did something to my cake. You won’t get away with this, Charlie.”

  “Oh, Austin,” Cass said, her voice quieting to match his. She held a hand over her mike as she moved closer to his ear, whispering, “I already did.”

  18

  Charlie

  Tuesday: 4 Days Until Christmas . . .

  Starlight Peak

  Charlie readjusted her headband and finger swept some of the loose tendrils of hair into the low bun at the nape of her neck as she looked over the cupcakes. She was happy with how they’d turned out, the sparkling sugar-spun snowflakes sitting atop ice-blue buttercream frosting. It had been a while since Charlie had to make a hundred of any confection in one go, and she was sticky with sugar and effort.

  She started transferring the cupcakes to the clear acrylic, eight-tier stand, which when completed was to look like a snow-covered evergreen, ensuring the mini cakes were equally spaced. It was rote if not delicate work, and by the time she looked up again the sky had darkened—the wedding didn’t even start until eight p.m., the bride and groom opting to donate the funds they’d have spent on a reception dinner to charity. Tonight’s party was a cocktail reception instead, with cupcakes and champagne and dancing to celebrate the union, which meant the cupcake tree had to be gorgeous, as it would be center stage.

  Walter poked his head into the venue’s small catering kitchen, then seeing the cupcake tree said, “Cass, it’s perfect. Chloe is going to be really happy.” Chloe was Walter’s sister—the oldest of three—and today’s bride. She and her about-to-be husband had moved to Dallas in the spring but had come back to Starlight Peak to get married. The wedding, like many in Starlight Peak, was taking place inside the beautiful old library, with its high ceilings and stained-glass windows and the warm, soft ambiance only shelves of books lining the walls could offer.

  “I’m glad you approve,” Charlie said. “How is Chloe doing?”

  “She’s good. The ceremony’s starting soon.”

  “Then go! Get out of here before your mom gets mad at me. I’ve got this under control.”

  Walter smiled and said he’d help serve the cupcakes after the ceremony, to which she replied that he was off the clock today and to go enjoy the evening with his family. Then two of Chloe’s bridesmaids came looking for Walter. After they left, the kitchen was blissfully quiet again.

  Charlie went back to work. She stood on a chair to carefully set the LED snowflake that would act like a light-up star for the tree at the top of the clear, acrylic stand. Charlie tried the switch before placing it, but the snowflake didn’t light up.

  “Shoot,” she said, fiddling with the switch. But it remained unlit. She was so focused on trying to fix the snowflake that she didn’t notice Jake come into the kitchen and his voice startled her. She lost her balance, stepping awkwardly off the chair, her hip knocking the linen-covered tray that he
ld the cupcake tree.

  Jake’s hands shot out and grabbed the edge of the trolley, his arms flexing beneath his suit jacket to keep it from hitting the wall. The trolley stopped, and while the tier wobbled ever so slightly, the cupcakes stayed in place. A near disaster was averted.

  Charlie, still not recovered from the shock of almost ruining the wedding dessert, remained speechless as she took in Jake’s presence, so handsome in his charcoal-gray suit and lavender tie. “This is a surprise,” she finally managed.

  Jake kept one hand on the trolley and straightened, giving her an amused look. “Well, I was invited.”

  She blushed. “Sorry, that totally came out wrong.”

  He laughed, and Charlie relaxed somewhat, all at once relieved the cupcakes were safe and that Jake was here, even if seeing him also created a swirl of complicated feelings for her. What was it about this guy that made her insides melt the way they did, and also brought her a deep sense of comfort and the instant glow of happiness?

  “So, will you be sitting on the bride’s side, or the groom’s?” Charlie asked.

  Jake’s smile faltered. “What do you mean?”

  “Team bride or team groom?” Charlie said again, crouching down to lock the trolley’s wheels but keeping her eyes on his.

  “Uh . . .” Jake gave her a curious look, and Charlie realized Cass would never have had to ask what Jake’s connection was to the bride and groom.

  “Chloe and I were on the same truck, before she moved to Dallas,” Jake added.

  “I was kidding!” Charlie knew she had to change the subject and quickly. “Hey, while I have you here . . .” She held out the snowflake topper. “Any chance you’re carrying a set of screwdrivers in your suit jacket? It was working this morning, but I’m thinking the batteries died.”

  He took the topper from her, squinted at the tiny screw holding the battery case. “Let me see what I can do.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “But isn’t the ceremony about to start? I don’t want to keep you . . . ?”

  “A short delay, apparently. Some issues with the flower girl and ring bearer. It’s past their bedtimes.” Jake handed the snowflake back to her. “Hang on. I’ll be right back.”

  Charlie took a moment to sit on one of the stools lining the kitchen’s island, rolling her ankles absentmindedly the way she used to when she worked at Souci as a way to prevent soreness in her arches from being on her feet for so long. She pulled an energy bar out of her apron’s pocket, taking a huge bite just as Jake came back.

  He held up a small see-through tube, with a red plastic cap, which he popped off with his thumb.

  “Thawasfas,” Charlie mumbled.

  “What?” Jake dumped the tube’s contents into his palm, pinching a small metal screwdriver between his fingers.

  Charlie chewed furiously, trying to get the bar down, but she swallowed too quickly and it got stuck in her throat. She coughed and sputtered, jumping off the stool and looking around for a glass of water. But Jake was way ahead of her, over at the sink with a champagne flute in hand, which he was filling with tap water. He pushed it into her hands.

  She took a small sip of the water, hoping she didn’t cough it all over Jake and his fancy suit.

  “Thanks,” she croaked out, smiling as she tapped her chest a few times and cleared her throat. “First my low blood sugar incident in the square. Then flat on my back on the trail. Then almost knocking over the cupcake display. Now choking on an energy bar . . .” Charlie took another sip of water. “I promise I’m not always like this. I’m usually pretty good at taking care of myself.”

  “Nothing wrong with needing a bit of help here and there,” Jake replied, smiling as he turned his attention back to the screwdriver. He took off the snowflake’s backing and switched out the batteries for fresh ones Charlie had in her purse. They stood close now, and Charlie’s insides got that melty feeling again as she looked into Jake’s face, wondering if he was feeling the same way. It only took a moment’s glance to understand he was. The way he looked at her, like there was nowhere else he would rather be, unraveled Charlie further and she leaned impossibly close to him . . . so close they could almost . . .

  All of a sudden the snowflake lit up in Jake’s hands.

  “Ah! Look at that,” she said.

  “Look at that,” Jake repeated softly, his eyes not leaving hers. He stepped toward her, the warmly lit snowflake glowing in his hand. Charlie held her breath. Then he was in front of her, placing the snowflake in her hands, but he didn’t let go, instead letting his fingers circle around hers. She wasn’t even self-conscious about her messy hair, or the icing smears on her apron, or the fact that she was supposed to be focusing on getting that snowflake on top of the cupcake tower.

  Charlie breathed Jake in as he tugged her closer, his hands still circling hers.

  “Cass,” he started, closing his eyes momentarily. “I don’t know if I can be just friends.” The last part he practically whispered, but he said it fervently. “Or I should say, I don’t know if I want to.” His voice broke and Charlie knew this was the point of no return.

  She went up on her tiptoes and kissed him, their hands still clinging to the glowing snowflake between them. Charlie wasn’t sure for how long they were like that, the slow and steady pressure of Jake’s lips on hers, the rest of the world fading away. She didn’t want this to end, because she finally had to admit once and for all that what she felt for Jake wasn’t some furious crush that would burn out.

  “Hey . . . Oh, sorry about that, kids.”

  Charlie jerked away from Jake, putting a hand to her lips and looking at the door, where Chief Matthews stood.

  “So, Greenman, the ceremony’s about to start.”

  Jake managed to get a “Thanks, Chief,” out, his eyes still on Charlie.

  Chief Matthews replied, “No problem,” and then tapped his hand on the doorframe before leaving. The room was suddenly quiet except for the bars of classical music that now eked into the kitchen from the library’s main room.

  “You’d better go,” Charlie said. His fingers lingered as he placed the snowflake in her hands, then he grinned and bit his bottom lip. She felt suddenly shy, like a love-sick teenager, and grinned back.

  “We’re not done here.” Jake raised an eyebrow. Charlie could only nod, impatient to learn what that actually meant.

  * * *

  • • •

  “I brought you something.” Jake stood in front of her, two glasses of champagne in his hands. “Figured you deserved a bit of good cheer after those amazing cupcakes.” The ceremony and reception were long over, everything having gone smoothly, but Charlie didn’t immediately take the glass he held out to her.

  “Thanks, but I shouldn’t really drink on the job,” she said. Then she glanced at the bride and groom, who were dancing in slow circles in the middle of the room surrounded by a dozen or so guests doing a similar sway to the music. “Though, technically I guess I’m off the clock now.”

  She took the champagne flute from Jake. “I guess one can’t hurt.” With a smile she clinked her glass to his and took a small sip, the sharp effervescence of the drink tickling her nose.

  “Achoo!” She turned to the side and sneezed; some champagne sloshed out of her glass. Champagne dripped down her hand and onto the linen tablecloth. “Seriously, you can’t take me anywhere.”

  Jake laughed and helped her sop up the champagne with a napkin. “Let’s put these down for a minute,” he said, taking the glass from her and setting it down on the table beside his own. Then he leaned in close and said, “Come with me.”

  Charlie allowed Jake to lead her out of the room, weaving between dancing couples to make their way back to the kitchen, only worrying briefly about someone seeing him holding her hand. Then she remembered him saying We’re not done here and her heart rate picked up, her palms starting to sweat
. Charlie wondered if Jake could feel the same electricity she was experiencing as his fingers held her own.

  They ducked into the kitchen, which was mostly dark except for the lamplight that streamed through the stained-glass window. Jake shut the door behind him, and suddenly they were completely alone. Charlie held her breath, waiting . . . For precisely what, she wasn’t sure.

  Jake leaned back against the countertop. “Come here,” he said gruffly as he pulled her toward him. This was a different side of Jake than she’d seen before. He still held the same gentle, searching gaze that always made her feel like he wanted nothing more than to really get to know her—all of her flaws, too. His confident steadiness was intact, too, and Charlie found that comforting, particularly amid the chaos of her current life. It was all she could do to control her breathing.

  Jake took Charlie in his arms. “May I have this dance?”

  “But there isn’t any music,” Charlie said.

  “I don’t need music,” Jake replied. So Charlie murmured that yes, he could have this dance, and Jake held her tighter. Their bodies were so close now there was barely any part of them not touching. They lazily danced in slow circles like that for a while, Charlie’s head pressed to Jake’s chest, where she could feel his heartbeat—fast, like hers. Then he pulled back slightly and dipped her deeply, a small gasp coming out of her at the surprise of the movement. But soon his lips were on hers and she was dizzy, both from the kiss and from the position.

  He kept a firm arm around her shoulders as he slowly brought her back to standing, his lips never leaving hers. Charlie sighed happily, and Jake smiled, breaking the kiss momentarily. Then he gave her a soft kiss on her forehead and Charlie closed her eyes again, feeling lucky to be in Jake’s arms.

  But then tears sprang to her eyes before she could stop them.