The Holiday Swap

by Maggie Knox

  Charlie, tying on her apron, looked up at the woman. “Most people don’t know what isomalt is. Are you in the business?” Isomalt was a sugar substitute that could be heated to a liquid and then manipulated into a variety of shapes. Thanks to its clarity, it made a perfect stand-in for snowflakes, icicles, and other decorations adorning the gingerbread house. But it was not easy to work with, and certainly not for beginners.

  “I’m obsessed with The Great British Bake Off,” the woman said, smiling at Charlie. She came over to the bakery case, and nodded appreciatively. “Everything looks delicious. Aside from a dozen sugar cookies, what do you suggest?”

  Charlie reached for two of the take-out boxes. “We’re known for our sourdough.”

  “Then I’ll take one of those,” the woman said, bending down to peer at the bottom shelves of the glass case. “And a few salted caramel brownies, two eclairs, a couple of these cinnamon buns, and . . .” The woman put her fingers on her chin and pursed her lips, trying to choose. “What are those linzer cookies filled with?”

  “They’re plum cardamom,” Charlie said. The linzer cookies were pretty—the dainty star-shaped cutout in the top cookie showcasing the fruit filling, the whole thing gently dusted with icing sugar—but also delicious. “Probably my favorite cookie in the entire case, to be honest.”

  “Sold. A few of those as well.”

  Charlie packed up the treats carefully, then closed up the boxes with Woodburn Bread stickers. She reached for one of the Starlight loaves, sliding it into a paper bag. “This loaf is on the house,” she said to the woman.

  As she rang up the purchases, Charlie said, “You know, you look so familiar to me. I’m trying to sort out if we’ve met before?”

  “I get that a lot. I have one of those faces, I guess.”

  “I guess so,” Charlie said, smiling. “So, what brings you to Starlight Peak today?”

  The woman took off her gloves so she could reach into her purse. “Just passing through. I’m on the road quite a bit for work.” She handed Charlie cash. “And I have a serious sweet tooth.”

  “Good news for us, I guess,” Charlie said. “I’m Cass. Cass Goodwin. This is my family’s bakery.”

  “I’m Sarah,” the woman said. “Nice to meet you, Cass. I’m looking forward to these.” Sarah held the boxes in one arm, the bag of Starlight loaf in the other. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again.”

  “Anytime you’re passing through, please come back and visit.” Charlie came out from behind the counter. “I’ll get the door for you. Do you need a hand getting these to your car?”

  “I’m okay, thanks. Happy Holidays!” Sarah said, as she walked out the door.

  “To you, too,” Charlie said, and was about to close the bakery’s door—the chill of the outdoors seeping quickly into her—when she saw someone approaching the bakery.

  Someone familiar, and wholly unexpected.

  She was about to say, “Cass?” when her twin turned, having been recognized by someone else. Someone tall, with red hair and a beard that worked so well on him it made Charlie’s knees weak . . . Oh no, this can’t be happening.

  Unsure exactly what to do, Charlie’s instincts took over and she quickly shut the bakery door and then ducked behind the gingerbread house display. “Oh no no no no no . . .” she said, coming slightly out of her crouched position so she could see what was happening outside.

  Jake and Cass stood just to the right of the bakery’s door, and while Charlie couldn’t hear what they were saying, she knew this was bad. Very, very bad. Charlie leaned closer to the window on the front door, trying to read her sister’s lips as she spoke with Jake. They hugged briefly, though it seemed awkward, and Charlie saw Cass was the one who let go before Jake did.

  Charlie was paralyzed with indecision. Should she go hide upstairs to avoid being seen? Should she go out there and just blurt out the truth? Jake (and Cass) might never forgive her, but she didn’t see how this could end in any way other than sheer disaster.

  Jake had moved his hands from Cass’s arms back to his pockets, and Charlie could tell from his posture that he knew something was wrong. His shoulders rolled forward, his head was dipped. Cass, for her part, looked mostly confused. Then she pointed to the bakery, and Jake nodded, and then just stood there as Cass smiled, gave him a small wave, and headed for the door. He briefly glanced at her as she made her way to the front door, then shook his head and walked in the other direction.

  “Jake. I’m so sorry,” Charlie whispered. She was so busy watching Jake retreat that she was still crouched in front of the doorway when Cass pulled it open, and she tumbled out onto the sidewalk.

  “Charlie?” Cass said, looking with concern at her twin lying in the snow.

  Cass kneeled down and pulled her into a tight hug. “Are you feeling better? How’s your head?”

  “I’m fine. But . . . why are you home? Why aren’t you on set?”

  “We have a lot to talk about,” Cass said, finally releasing her sister. Charlie’s stomach filled with dread as she took in the expression on Cass’s face. There was something wrong. “But let’s go inside first, okay?”

  * * *

  • • •

  “What did you say to Jake?” Charlie asked once they were back in the warm bakery. She was preoccupied about how he’d looked moments before as he walked away from Cass.

  “Yeah. That was weird,” Cass said, looking outside to where Jake had stood moments before. Charlie cringed and shrugged her shoulders. “What, Charlie? Why was that weird?”

  “Like you said, we have a lot to talk about.” Charlie took a deep breath. “But you aren’t supposed to be back for two days. What’s going on with the show? Did it wrap early? Why didn’t you call me to say you were coming home?”

  Cass paused, then said, “I’m not on set because I called—well, you called—in sick, and then some . . . other stuff happened.”

  Charlie looked her sister over. She looked tired but otherwise she seemed perfectly fine. “What’s the matter?”

  “Charlie, I’m not actually sick, but I—”

  Just then Walter came out from the kitchen. “Cass, I have some less than fantastic news . . . Oh, hey, Charlie!” Seeing the twins standing together in the bakery stopped him short. Then he strode over and held out his hand to Cass, blushing slightly. “Charlie! Welcome home.”

  Cass didn’t miss a beat, reaching out to shake his hand. “Thanks, Walter. It’s good to be home.”

  Walter grinned at Cass, until Charlie said, “So, what’s this ‘less than fantastic news’?” and his smile dropped.

  “Right,” he said, giving Charlie—who, of course, he still believed to be Cass—a worried look. “I think something’s wrong with the starter.”

  “What’s wrong with the starter?” Cass asked tersely, stepping forward. Walter looked momentarily confused as to why the twin he believed to be Charlie seemed most concerned.

  “I don’t know, actually. It’s not bubbling. It looks frothy?”

  Charlie’s throat closed, remembering the canister of icing sugar on the counter. The one she might have accidentally fed the starter with a couple of days ago.

  “Cass, any idea what’s going on?” Cass turned to Charlie, who didn’t trust her voice not to come out as a squeak.

  “No,” Charlie said. Then she swallowed hard.

  Walter glanced between the twins, sensing the tension in the room but attributing it to the starter issue. “Do you want me to show you, or . . . ?” His voice trailed off as he gestured to the back room.

  Cass and Charlie stared at one another. “It’s fine. We can take it from here,” Charlie—still playing Cass—said, before turning to Walter. “Seriously, you’ve worked late enough.”

  He paused a moment longer, then told Charlie to call him if she needed his help, before leaving the bakery. The twins con
tinued the swap facade until the door shut firmly behind him. Then Charlie switched the sign to closed and locked the bakery’s door before turning back to Cass.

  But she didn’t get a word out before Cass launched into her. “What happened to the starter?!”

  “I don’t know!” Charlie was frazzled. The Woodburn Breads starter had been in their family for generations. And a frothy starter was not a healthy starter.

  “It’s possible I screwed something up when I was feeding it last? Like, I might have used icing sugar instead of flour? But things have been crazy here. Apparently Sharon Marston is starting some dog biscuit company and wants our starter for her sourdough biscuit line. Don’t worry, I didn’t give her any.” Charlie tried to change the subject, because Cass’s expression was growing angrier by the second. “And can we talk about ordering? I mean, I don’t know how you keep on top of orders when you have no system.” She pointed to the drawer under the cash machine, where she had found the bakery orders. “How do you not miss stuff? Why isn’t all of this digital?”

  “I don’t need you to tell me how to manage things around here, Charlie.” Cass’s jaw clenched. “And I’ll deal with the frothy starter in a minute, but most importantly, what the hell was Sarah Rosen doing here?”

  “Who?” Charlie asked. She felt like she was trying to play catch-up, because she still had no clue why Cass had come home early. What did she mean she called in sick, and what else had happened? Plus, Charlie was trying to reconcile the truth that she had fed the starter icing sugar. Icing sugar! “Who’s Sarah Rosen?”

  “The woman with the ridiculously high-heeled boots who walked out of here with take-out boxes?” Now Cass pointed at the door, gesturing wildly with her one hand.

  “Whoa. What the hell are you so pissed off about? She was a customer, passing through town. We want that sort to visit the bakery, right? That’s how the bills get paid, Cass.” Charlie knew her tone was unnecessarily harsh, but she couldn’t help it. She was feeling defensive, not to mention anxious about what had happened in L.A. “Why haven’t you told me why you’re home early? Or what’s happening with the show?”

  Cass ignored Charlie’s questions. “Sarah Rosen is Makewell. The company trying to move in on us? The ones who are about to set up shop two doors down?”

  “Oh . . . Oh. But she’s so young!” Charlie knew that was beside the point, but she couldn’t help but sound impressed.

  “I know,” Cass huffed irritably. “She’s a wunderkind, apparently. Built an empire by the time she was twenty-five.”

  “Huh,” Charlie replied. “Impressive. And also explains why she looked familiar.”

  “Can we focus here, Charlie? I’m pretty sure I know why Sarah Rosen was here tonight, and it wasn’t because she suddenly had a craving for holiday cookies.”

  Charlie bit the inside of her cheek. But how could she have possibly known that woman, Sarah, was the Sarah threatening the future of the Goodwin family’s bakery? “I’m sorry, Cass. I had no idea. She didn’t say anything about Makewell’s. I swear.”

  “I don’t even know if it matters.” Cass sounded defeated. “This thing is probably past the point where we have any chance to stop it.”

  “Again, I’m sorry. If I had had any idea—”

  “It’s fine,” Cass snapped. “I’ll deal with Sarah. And the starter. Just like I always do when it comes to this family.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Now it was Charlie’s turn to cross her arms angrily, the twins facing off in front of the case of baked goods.

  “You couldn’t wait to get out of here, Charlie. But did you ever think about what you were leaving behind? That you left me to figure this all out, to make sure our family’s legacy continued? Did you even think about me at all?”

  Charlie was dumbstruck. Yes, she had skipped town the second she got accepted to culinary school, but Cass had never mentioned wanting to leave Starlight Peak. Or to do anything differently than what she was doing. “You never said anything, Cass! Besides, you were with Brett, and I thought you were happy here. Look, I know we have that mind-meld twin thing, but how was I supposed to know you didn’t want to stay if you didn’t tell me?”

  “Would it have even mattered?” Cass sat down heavily at one of the tables and put her head in her hands. “Someone had to stay, Charlie.”

  “Says who?” Charlie softened her voice, sitting down across from Cass. “I’m sorry I didn’t check in with you more often. I didn’t realize everything you were going through.”

  Cass shook her head. “Honestly, I mostly wanted to stay. I do love it here. I’m good at running the bakery. But . . .”

  Charlie touched her sister’s hands. “But what?”

  “I didn’t know what else might be out there!” Cass had tears in her eyes. “I didn’t give myself permission to consider it. The bakery. Brett. My life was all wrapped up in a predictable bow and I didn’t even take a minute to think about whether it was what I really wanted.”

  Charlie nodded, understanding the dilemma. The idea of starting anew brought with it exhilaration, but also fear. “Why are you home now, Cass? There’s still a day of shooting.”

  As the silence stretched a beat too long, Charlie had a sense she wasn’t going to be happy with the answer.

  “It’s over.” Cass said.

  “What’s over?”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Cass continued. “I should have. But the only way to tell you what I have to tell you was to do it in person.”

  “Tell me what?” It was possible Charlie’s heart was going to explode with nervousness.

  “You were never getting the Bake My Day hosting job, Charlie.” Cass’s tone was gentle, but her words made Charlie feel like she’d been slammed to the ground.

  “What?” Charlie pulled her hands out of Cass’s. “What are you talking about?”

  For a moment she stared at Cass, unable to even form a coherent thought because she was still trying to process her twin’s revelation. Austin had beaten Charlie, after all? Her television career had started and ended with Sweet & Salty . . . and she hadn’t even been there to see it happen. The initial panic she’d felt when Cass showed up tonight was replaced with another emotion: anger. With narrowed eyes, Charlie hissed, “What happened, Cass? What did you do?”

  “Me? I did nothing except tolerate that jerk Austin and do my best to be the perfect Charlie Goodwin!” Then she pushed back from the table and stood, her eyes filling with angry tears. “Let’s not forget this was your idea, Charlie. Your idea.”

  “The worst idea I’ve ever had, clearly.” Charlie stood, too, taking a few steps away from her sister. She was in shock. How had everything fallen apart so spectacularly? “I trusted you, Cass.”

  “Charlie, you not getting the hosting job had nothing to do with me, or what happened on set. I mean, yes, I did leave the set early. But that wouldn’t have changed anything. That job was always going to be Austin’s.”

  “How can you be so sure?” Charlie practically shouted.

  “I overheard Austin talking with Sasha, and she said she was going to tell you after Sweet and Salty wrapped the holiday special. But they had decided before the first episode even aired, apparently.” Cass watched helplessly as Charlie paced the small room. “I’m so, so sorry. I know how important this was to you.”

  Charlie couldn’t even respond. She felt betrayed by Sasha, embarrassed that Austin had won, and was deeply disappointed that her hard work hadn’t been good enough. She never should have left Souci, or taken the co-host job. On top of it all, she was furious. But precisely at who or what, she wasn’t sure. What she did know, however, was that she couldn’t deal with any of it tonight.

  “So, that’s not all,” Cass said. “I . . . I told Sasha—” She cleared her throat, and her eyes dropped from Charlie’s.

  “I called Sasha this morn
ing, pretending to be you, and told her I wasn’t coming in. That Austin could handle whatever else had to be done, because I—you—deserved better. That it wasn’t fair, you having to play this ‘sweet’ role, in those god-awful heels, while Austin got to be the confident and charming one with his pithy one-liners and chef’s whites! Charlie, you deserve better.”

  Charlie was quiet for a moment, then she looked right into her sister’s eyes and said, “What gave you the right to decide what was best for me, Cass?”

  Cass looked stunned, clearly having hoped for a different reaction. But Charlie couldn’t really worry about Cass right now, because she could barely stay on her feet—it was as though every last drop of energy had been squeezed out of her body.

  “I need to get out of here. I can’t talk about this anymore,” Charlie said, her voice quaking. “I’m going to Mom and Dad’s so you can have your apartment back.”

  “Charlie, I know this is a lot to take in. And, look, I . . . I really thought I was doing the right thing,” Cass said, sounding as weary as Charlie felt. “But I need to figure out what the hell to do about Makewell’s. And see if I can save the starter. There’s a lot to—”

  “I know, Cass. I know. We can deal with everything else tomorrow. I really need to be alone right now.”

  “Fine. Tomorrow.” Cass nodded her head. “I obviously won’t be sleeping tonight anyway. Let’s just hope the starter isn’t dead.”

  Charlie gave a short but humorless laugh. “Like my career, you mean?”

  21

  Cass

  Thursday: 2 Days Until Christmas . . .

  Starlight Peak

  For a moment in the darkness of the room, Cass didn’t know where she was. But then a warm weight on her feet reminded her: Gateau was asleep at the bottom of the bed, purring away. Other people may not have been able to tell the difference between the twins, but Gateau had practically jumped into Cass’s arms when she had come upstairs the night before, and hadn’t left her side since—making it clear she had never been fooled.