The Holiday Swap

by Maggie Knox

  Jake hopped off the ladder’s last rung, Gateau cradled in his arms. The little cat was purring as she snuggled into his well-muscled chest, which Charlie couldn’t help but notice through his T-shirt. He handed her Gateau, and Charlie lingered close for a moment, their hands touching. Then the cat, tired of being manhandled, let out a plaintive mew and broke the spell.

  Jake reached out to scratch Gateau under the chin. “I’m sorry Bonnie chased you up a tree, girl.”

  Charlie smiled down at Cass’s cat. “Thank you,” she said to Jake.

  She didn’t know what else to say, but knew she didn’t want the moment to end. And with the way he was looking at her right now, as intensely as he had earlier—it was no use. Charlie had reached the point of no return. Neither of them moved, and even Gateau stayed still in Charlie’s arms. There was so much she wanted to share, but couldn’t: this whole caper with Cass was proving to be harder than she imagined, but not for the reasons she’d expected. Charlie hadn’t planned to come home and develop feelings for someone who had been a complete stranger only days before.

  A wiser person would put a stop to things. Right now, before someone got hurt. But as much as Charlie knew it was wrong, it didn’t feel that way to her—it felt right.

  Charlie went up on her tiptoes and kissed Jake on the cheek. His beard tickled her skin, but his cheek was soft against her lips. She stilled there, realizing she could smell the fresh, soapy scent of his skin. Then Jake’s lips brushed hers and she could think of nothing else. At some point his hands landed on Charlie’s waist, and he didn’t let go when she came down from her toes. He looked surprised by the kiss (even though he had initiated it) but not in a bad way. Her heart thumped furiously when she saw her feelings reflected back in his gaze.

  Charlie cleared her throat and took a small step back. Jake’s hands dropped from her waist. He touched his lips—where hers had been only a moment before—with his thumb.

  “I know you have a shift tonight, but can I make you dinner? Tomorrow night?” What was she doing? Also, she couldn’t figure out if she was more worried he’d say “yes,” or that he’d decline the offer. “As a thank-you for saving Gateau?”

  Jake waited a beat before answering, then, “I’d really like that.”

  “Good,” Charlie murmured, still clinging to Gateau, who was now squirming to break free. “How’s seven?”

  “Seven is good,” Jake replied. “But I get to be your sous chef, okay? I’m no slouch in the kitchen. At least that’s what they tell me at the firehouse.”

  “Sous chef it is.”

  “Well, then. It’s a date.” Charlie liked the way Jake smiled shyly as he said it. She knew she needed to find a way to tell Jake she wasn’t Cass, but that was a problem she didn’t need to solve tonight.

  9

  Cass

  Friday: 8 Days Until Christmas . . .

  Los Angeles

  As Cass spun in front of her sister’s full-length mirror, evaluating her choice of lavender sundress and denim jacket she’d found in Charlie’s closet, she knew she wasn’t as done up as Charlie would have been for a date, but she looked pretty good. And then she stopped, staring at her reflection as she realized this was her first-ever first date.

  She and Brett had just drifted into becoming a couple. And sure, as they’d gotten older, they had begun to go on actual dates, but there had never been a moment like this. It was brand-new to Cass, and it made her instantly nervous.

  She added a pair of buttery leather flat sandals to her outfit and confronted herself in the mirror again. Maybe it wasn’t a date. Maybe Miguel had only been trying to be friendly when he’d asked her out. He had said it was a thank-you for the tickets. Maybe that’s all it was—his way of showing his gratitude.

  Cass couldn’t decide if that made her feel better—she wouldn’t be complicating Charlie’s life in an unnecessary way if it wasn’t a date—or worse. Stop overthinking this. Just get yourself to the damn restaurant.

  She walked out into the mild Santa Monica night, marveling at the idea that just a few hours away her hometown was buried in snow. She took out her phone and checked reflexively for a reply from Charlie. She had managed to get through to the bakery’s landline earlier: Walter had answered and told her that “Cass” was outside dealing with the flour delivery but that he’d deliver the message that “Charlie” needed a call back. Cass had longed to ask him how things were going at the bakery—but he had sounded busy and she could hear customers in the background.

  Crossing the street, she walked half a block until she saw the soft light from the bistro’s windows spilling out onto the sidewalk. A hand-painted sign read fabrizio’s. She hesitated, her nerves awakening. Then she took a breath, smoothed a hand over her sleek ponytail, and walked into the restaurant.

  “Hi, I’m Ca—Charlie Goodwin. Here to meet Miguel Rodriguez.”

  The man at the door grinned. “Ah, yes, Miguel. Right over here. Follow me, Miss Goodwin, and welcome to Fabrizio’s. It is a true honor to have you here.”

  Miguel was waiting for her at a table tucked away in the back. He smiled as soon as he saw her and stood, then pulled her chair out for her. “Thanks, Fabrizio,” he said.

  Cass thanked him, too, and sat down. Fabrizio moved to the side of the table and smiled, wide and charming. “This is so wonderful!”

  Miguel gave Cass a look bordering on embarrassment, then smiled. “Fabrizio, maybe you can give us a minute?”

  “Ah, but I’m so excited that you are here with a beautiful dinner guest, when usually you are here alone, or with your sister. I was starting to worry about you, my friend. Poor Miguel, will he be alone for life with only his work and his surfboard for company? And all those baking cookbooks? But now you show up with a beautiful date. And not just any date, but the Charlie Goodwin.” He turned to Cass, who was blushing with the flattery—but also feeling guilty because it wasn’t directed at her at all.

  “My pastry chef is working on a special dessert just for you,” Fabrizio continued. “We have a long time before we can get to that. So, first, an aperitivo? Negronis! And, if you’ll indulge me, I have a special plan for the menu. So, I can take these, okay?” He removed the menus from the table with a flourish and walked off without giving Cass or Miguel a chance to respond.

  “Sorry about that,” Miguel said when he was gone. “This is why I don’t usually bring dates here—some people like to decide on their own meals. But it’s my favorite restaurant, and he’s right—you take the Charlie Goodwin out”—he raised an eyebrow and she felt her bush deepen—“you need to make sure she’s served the best food in town.”

  “After the day I’ve had, I’m happy not to have to make any more food-related decisions at all,” Cass said with a smile.

  A bartender delivered their ruby-hued drinks. Miguel leaned in and clinked his glass against hers. “What happened on set today?”

  “Well, on the bright side, I kept Austin from stealing my recipe today. On the not-so-bright side, I’m still having trouble getting the hang of things. I’m always flubbing my lines, and Austin is always lording it over me . . .” She took in his befuddled expression and let her words trail away.

  “What do you mean, ‘getting the hang of things’?”

  “Having a studio audience,” she said quickly. “It’s throwing me off. I’m not used to having to interact with Austin, my confection, and an audience.”

  To her relief, Miguel nodded. “I get it. Totally. When we moved from paper to tablets it took a while to adjust and really slowed me down at first. I like my routines, too.”

  Just then a waiter arrived with a plate of stuffed zucchini blossoms, arranged like little works of art, all sunny yellows and verdant greens. “Almost too pretty to eat,” Cass murmured.

  “True, but you’ll regret it if you don’t,” Miguel said, popping one into his mouth. She did the same, and
moaned with happiness.

  “Oh my goodness! What’s in these? I taste . . .” She paused, letting the flavors mingle on her tongue. “Fresh ricotta and lemon zest and . . . something else. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s sublime.”

  “Don’t even bother asking,” Miguel said. “Every one of Fabrizio’s dishes has a secret ingredient or special twist, and he refuses to tell me what’s in them.”

  “Why would I do that?” Fabrizio had appeared beside their table, two glasses of white wine on a tray in his hand. “My culinary secrets keep my favorite customers coming back for more. Now, try this with the blossoms. A vermentino. The perfect pairing. “He winked and set the glasses in front of them, then retreated.

  “I like his passion,” Cass said. “That’s important in a chef.” And maybe something my life in Starlight Peak has been lacking . . .

  Miguel’s and Cass’s eyes met in the flickering candlelight, and Cass reveled in the fact that she knew one thing for sure: this was definitely a date.

  * * *

  • • •

  “I am never eating anything, ever again,” Cass said, staring at the empty dishes in front of them. Fabrizio had kept the food coming all night: first the zucchini blossoms; then a salad with vibrant green and red lettuces and shavings of a hard goat’s cheese, so simple and yet so perfect; then tiny bowls of ribollita, a bean and vegetable soup that was uncomplicated and yet, somehow, one of the most flavorful dishes Cass had ever tasted. This was followed by mushroom ravioli and a scampi pasta to share; and finally, a whole roasted branzino and side plates of grilled rapini and balsamic-glazed Brussels sprouts. “No exaggeration, this is the best food I’ve ever had.”

  Miguel looked pleased. “Told you. He really has outdone himself tonight. I usually leave full, but tonight you might have to roll me out of here.”

  As the meal had progressed, Cass’s nerves had quieted. Somehow, Miguel didn’t feel like a stranger anymore. More like someone she’d always known.

  “Don’t forget to save room for dessert,” Miguel said. Cass groaned, unsure where she could fit another morsel. “Remember, they’ve got something special waiting for Charlie Goodwin, their guest of honor.”

  Charlie Goodwin. Right. Miguel may have felt like someone she knew well, but he didn’t know her at all.

  “Dessert for my guest of honor. Cannoli, struffoli, and zeppoli.” Fabrizio took the plates from the waiter’s hands and announced them as he placed them on the table. “And, finally . . .” He set a demitasse in front of each of them, the cups steaming with hot espresso and melting ice cream. “Affogato!”

  Cass gazed at the colorful, creamy confections before her, and then selected a cannoli, biting into it and murmuring, her mouth still full, “This is heaven,” to Fabrizio’s obvious delight. “I don’t ever want this night to end.”

  * * *

  • • •

  It was past midnight by the time Cass and Miguel arrived outside Charlie’s building. They had walked through the streets slowly, talking and laughing and completely focused on each other. Charlie now knew that Miguel was the youngest of three kids, and that his entire family was in the medical field; his older brother, Romero, was a cardiovascular surgeon; Jacintha an obstetrician; and both his parents had been family doctors before they retired. Miguel joked that he was clearly the “underachiever of the family,” but that he’d chosen to be a physician assistant because it offered better balance.

  “I still get to surf,” Miguel had told her. “And read, and do yoga, and go out for dinner, and enjoy my life. They all think I’m crazy, but I don’t care. So what if I’m the black sheep of my family? I love what I do, but I’m not willing to give up everything for it, you know?”

  Cass nodded, thinking about how the bakery wasn’t quite like being in a surgical suite but was all-consuming nonetheless.

  Now that they stood outside Charlie’s building, Cass felt she didn’t want the magic of the evening to end. It had been the perfect first date. Her first, first date. In a few seconds it would be over—and she didn’t want it to be.

  “Thank you,” Cass began. “Tonight was . . .”

  Miguel was quiet, waiting for her to finish her thought. He stood close, and then smiled.

  “Perfect,” Miguel said, echoing her thoughts. “Tonight was perfect.”

  “It was.”

  “Thank you, Charlie.” But before she could experience a hit of guilt at her sister’s name, Miguel’s lips were on hers. She lost herself in the kiss, which was, not surprisingly, also perfect.

  After a few moments Miguel broke the kiss, and Cass found herself slightly off balance, her lips tingling from the delicious pressure of his mouth on hers. With a shy smile, Miguel handed her one of Fabrizio’s business cards. Cass looked from the card to his face.

  “Flip it over,” he said. Miguel’s phone number was written on the back. “I hope you’ll call me. I’d like to do this again.”

  “I will,” Cass said. Miguel leaned in and gave her another soft kiss. Then he stepped backward down the sidewalk for a few steps before giving her a final, dimpled smile and turning around to walk home.

  As Cass was unlocking the door to her sister’s apartment, her mind full of thoughts of Miguel and their perfect first kiss, her phone rang. She dropped everything. “Charlie!” The dreamlike bliss she’d been feeling evaporated the moment she heard her sister’s voice.

  “Cass, we need to talk.”

  10

  Charlie

  Friday: 8 Days Until Christmas . . .

  Starlight Peak

  It was already 6:30 p.m. and Charlie double-checked the items on Cass’s kitchen island, making sure she had everything she needed for dinner. The potatoes were in the oven baking and would soon be soft enough for the gnocchi. Gateau purred as she wove around Charlie’s legs, waiting for a ham roll or nibble of cheese.

  “Soon, Gateau,” Charlie promised, crouching to pet the cat. She had become quite fond of the animal during the past few days, and would miss her when she went back to L.A. But not as much as she would miss someone else.

  She was excited to see Jake but also had a lingering sense of guilt and a dull headache that seemed resistant to the ibuprofen she’d popped earlier. Thankfully, her taste buds were functioning well again—her morning coffee had actually tasted like coffee. She knew, after that first taste of coffee, that she could—should—switch back with Cass. But then the orders had started pouring in and, after closing the bakery she’d been focused on getting ready for her date with Jake. Jake. She wasn’t quite ready to let go of him yet, even if that was best for everyone. I’ll tell Cass first thing tomorrow and then head back to L.A., Charlie promised herself.

  Thinking about her sister and L.A., she suddenly remembered she’d forgotten to return Cass’s call from earlier. Even though her concussion symptoms seemed nearly gone, her memory still felt like a sieve. As if on cue, the bakery’s phone rang—the sound somewhat muted because she was in the apartment upstairs. Hoping it was Cass, Charlie sprinted down the stairs to answer it.

  But it wasn’t her twin, unfortunately. “Hey, babe,” Brett said. She rolled her eyes; she did not need this added layer of complexity right now.

  “Hey, Brett.” Charlie leaned back against the countertop and crossed her arms as she tucked the handset between her chin and shoulder. “Why are you calling?”

  Brett misinterpreted her question, and her tone. “I’ve been calling your cell, but it keeps going to voicemail.”

  Charlie glanced at the cat’s-eyes clock. Jake would be here soon. “Yeah, it has been wonky. So, listen, now’s not a good—”

  “I’d like to take you to dinner tonight. You’ve been working so hard, and—” Brett spoke over her, then stopped himself, adding, “Sorry, what did you want to say?”

  He sounded so earnest that Charlie softened, just a little. He wasn’t
her cup of tea, but her sister had spent many years in a relationship with the man so he couldn’t be all that bad. Charlie didn’t need to drive a further wedge between him and Cass, even if they were no longer a couple. But she didn’t have time to deal with Brett right now, because it was almost seven.

  “Oh, that’s sweet, but can I take a rain check?” Charlie asked.

  There was silence on the other end of the phone, then Brett sighed.

  “I’m not feeling great,” she added quickly. “I’ve had this headache all day.” It was the truth, so she didn’t feel that badly using it as an excuse.

  “Anything I can do?”

  “I just need a good night’s sleep.” Again, the truth. So many things had been racing through her mind that she’d barely slept the night before.

  “Are you sure? I could bring you some soup.”

  “Just rest. That’s all I need.”

  “Okay, but call me if you need anything.”

  She hung up and then pressed her fingers against her eyes, willing the pounding in her head to go away. Just then there was a knock at the door. Charlie opened her eyes to a welcome sight. Jake was standing at the bakery’s door, slightly bent over, because of his height, so he could peer in the window. He smiled and gave a wave. When Charlie opened the door she was again struck by how gorgeous he was. Those green eyes, which were especially vibrant against the ruddiness of his snow-chilled cheeks, held hers. She felt mesmerized by Jake and for one long, embarrassing moment Charlie just stood there staring at him.

  Jake handed her the bottle of wine in his hand, and with a smile asked, “Can I come in?”

  “Yes! Yes, please,” she said, stepping aside to let him inside. He smelled of winter and something warm and spicy, and her senses were overwhelmed by this handsome man now only a few inches from her.

  “I know I’m ten minutes early, but . . . Well, I’m always early. It’s a flaw, I know. But hopefully one you can put up with?” Jake joked as she closed the door behind him.