The Holiday Swap

by Maggie Knox

  She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “You should just go. Please. I will get myself to the hospital, I promise. But I think it will have to be somewhere other than Cedars-Sinai. You’re right, we crossed some lines here. And it’s time for us to stop.” She was surprised by how much she now sounded like her sister when she was on television, her voice smooth and calm. She could hardly stand the hurt expression on Miguel’s face but forced herself to stand her ground. It was best for both of them. She was fresh out of a ten-year relationship with Brett. She was going back to Starlight Peak in just a few days. It was too complicated to even dream that she could somehow tell him the truth and salvage their fledgling romance.

  “Thank you for everything,” she added, willing her voice to stay strong. Then she walked to the door and opened it. “Goodbye, Miguel.”

  He walked through, quietly saying goodbye in return, and she shut the door. The apartment felt empty and far too quiet. She turned on some music and set about cleaning up Charlie’s kitchen and adjusting the recipe, recopying it onto a fresh sheet of paper and crumpling up and throwing away the pages with Miguel’s notes. She was never going to see him again. It was time to forget him and focus on what she’d come here to do for her sister.

  16

  Charlie

  Monday: 5 Days Until Christmas . . .

  Starlight Peak

  The sky was still an inky black, lit with fading stars, and already Charlie had been up for hours, beginning work on a tier of cupcakes for a holiday-themed wedding the next day. It was Walter’s sister’s wedding, in fact, so he had the morning off from the bakery for a rehearsal brunch. She was grateful for the work, which was helping her not think about the day before: how much she had enjoyed her time with Jake, and what a rude awakening it had been to be interrupted, yet again, by Brett. She was also trying not to think about the harsh words she had flung at Brett, her frustrations finally boiling over. Yet snippets of the conversation kept popping into her head.

  She could still picture the surprised hurt on Brett’s face—which, frankly, was what had really set Charlie off the day before: how shocked he had seemed, and how possessive of her sister he was. As if Cass were somehow his property, like one of his prime real estate investments he didn’t want anyone else to have.

  Brett’s an adult. He can handle what he obviously had coming to him, Charlie thought, pausing to put on another pot of coffee. Then she set to work on the cupcake batter for the wedding. Once she turned off the stand mixer, she tasted the batter. It was rich and sweet, exactly the way it was supposed to be. At least one thing was going her way. She poured it into the prepared tins, put them in the oven, then moved on to the Starlight Bread dough.

  Sadly, the dough was another story. It was not the way it was supposed to be at all. The contents of the proofing bowls looked deflated. When she began to work the dough with her floured hands, it was too sticky. She added more flour and kneaded each boule. She knew adding so much flour at this stage would result in poorly shaped, dry loaves. Still, there was nothing else to do: she could not throw away any more dough. She had to keep moving forward, not backward—with everything, including this batch of bread. If a few of the Starlight loaves were a bit dry this year, so be it. They could add extra fruit to make up for it.

  Charlie began to chop dates for date squares, her knife thumping hard against the cutting board. Soon, the first light of dawn was creeping across the sky. She glanced at the clock and realized if she didn’t dress soon, the morning rush for baked goods and coffees would start and she’d still be in pajamas and slippers.

  Charlie opened the bakery doors, turning the painted wooden sign they’d had for as long as she could remember to the welcome, we’re open! side.

  Immediately, Sharon Marston stepped through.

  “Hello,” she said, in a strange, theatrical voice—almost as if she thought she had an audience. She peered around, then took off her hat and fluffed her hair, pressing her lips together to work in what looked like a fresh coat of lipstick. “How are you today, Cassandra?” she intoned.

  Charlie raised an eyebrow. Had she accidentally stepped onto the set of a soap opera? “I’m okay . . . Sharon.”

  Sharon was looking at the counter now. Her eyes widened. “Oh my. Is this it?” She fluffed her hair again, did that weird glance around thing, then stepped toward it. “Is this the famous Woodburn starter?”

  “Oh shoot, yes. I was feeding it and forgot to put it away.” Charlie went to pick up the large container filled with the starter.

  Sharon put a hand on her wrist. “May I see it?”

  “Oh-kay.” Charlie pulled back the cheesecloth that covered the bowl and Sharon peered inside. Charlie noticed that it didn’t look quite right. It was supposed to be bubbling—and it wasn’t.

  “So you feed it? Kind of like it’s a pet?”

  “Yep. Once a day, after baking. Flour and water.” Charlie, confused about why the starter wasn’t bubbling, glanced at the container she had been using to feed the starter earlier and saw that it was labeled icing sugar. She searched her memory: surely she had not used icing sugar to feed the starter? But she couldn’t focus; Sharon was still staring at her, clearly waiting for something.

  “As you know, I’m a very responsible pet owner,” Sharon said, inclining her head toward the front window, where her two poodles stood at attention. “Very, very responsible.”

  “Sure. So, anyway . . . What can I get for you?”

  Sharon gave an exasperated sigh and Charlie felt more confused than ever. “Okay, where is it?” Sharon asked, eyes darting around the bakery.

  “Where’s what? Sharon, I just showed you the starter. Is there something else I can do for you today?”

  “The camera, Cass! Where is it? Are you broadcasting this out to the town, too, the way you did with poor Brett?”

  “What are you . . . oh.” The Live.Li stream. All at once, Charlie remembered Walter turning it on to test it out. She did not, however, remember turning it off—although she had closed the laptop this morning and it was now covered with her sister’s haphazard papers. Charlie tensed. Her sense of taste and smell had almost entirely returned, yes, but maybe it was time to face facts: her memory was still clunky and slow. She was scattered and all over the place, making mistakes she never should have been making. And it seemed to be getting worse, not better.

  “The camera’s off,” Charlie said. Sharon relaxed her posture and stopped pouting her lips. Her voice was somewhat more normal—but filled with disdain—when she said, “You know, you think you can have everything, Cass Goodwin. It’s just not fair.”

  “Please, Sharon. I don’t have the energy for whatever drama you’re trying to stir up this morning. We’re not in high school anymore. Can you just tell me what you want, I’ll give it to you, and you can go?” She tried to sound blasé, but in reality she was freaking out about the possibility that she had livestreamed her argument with Brett. How could she have been so careless and not remembered to turn off Live.Li when she got back from her hike with Jake?

  “Excellent customer service, Cass. It’s like you don’t even want customers.” Sharon shot one last look at the starter before marching toward the door. “I’ve lost my appetite for Woodburn Breads,” she said over her shoulder as she pulled on her winter hat. “I think you’ll find the rest of the town feels the same, after the things you said to Brett. Who is a lovely man and did not deserve that!” The bells chimed as she threw open the door and then slammed it harder than was necessary.

  Charlie groaned, then cleared the papers away from the laptop. Though she really didn’t want to, she knew she had to do it. She clicked “review past broadcast” and watched as an image of the bakery appeared on-screen. Then she hit play—but was interrupted by the tinkling of the doorbells again. Not immediately looking up from the screen she said, “Sharon, you made your point—”

&nbs
p; Then she saw who it was and smiled with relief. It was Faye Christie, not Sharon back for another round of berating Charlie—and her heart skipped a beat, because for a brief moment she hoped Jake might just be parking the car and be right behind his grandmother. But Faye was alone. Charlie hit pause on the video, thankful for the reprieve.

  “Good morning,” Faye said, pulling the door closed behind her. “Phew! It’s a frosty one. And a bit icy out there, too.” She had a cane—it was hot pink and shiny—and she shook it at Charlie but in a friendly way. “Good thing I have my cane with me to keep me steady. Jake wouldn’t like that I had ventured out on my own in this, but he’s working a double shift again because one of the other firefighters called in sick, and a lady needs her treats. So, here I am.”

  “Well, you have the first pick of them today,” Charlie said, going behind the counter and fetching a box. “Take a few extra on the house.”

  “I insist on paying. And just two squares today, please. Best not to keep too many in the house because that fool dog of Jake’s always finds a way to eat them.” Charlie chuckled as she put lemon squares in a small box, adding one extra without Faye noticing, as well as two eclairs because she knew Jake had a soft spot for those. “There you go, Faye.”

  Faye paid Charlie and took the box, but didn’t seem ready to leave. “You’re looking lovely, as always, but those bags under your eyes look like they’re packed for an international flight, and you seem a bit down.”

  “Truth is, I’m not having the best day, Faye.”

  “You really haven’t been yourself lately, have you?” For a moment, Charlie felt almost sure the jig was up; there was something so knowing in Faye’s tone and in her gaze. But the moment passed. “A lot on your mind, I suppose. I heard the rumor.”

  “Which one?” Charlie smiled and rolled her eyes.

  Faye chuckled. “Ah, yes. News does travel fast around this town. But the one I’m referring to is about a competing bakery moving in?”

  “Right. According to Brett, that one’s more than just a rumor, and I won’t let it happen. I need to fight it. It’s important to my entire family, this bakery.”

  “Well, of course it is!” Faye said. “And, it’s important to you, too. This bakery is your life. Right, Cass?” Again, something in her tone made Charlie feel exposed. For a moment, she thought about how freeing it would be to tell someone the truth. She was sure Faye wouldn’t judge her too harshly, if she could explain how and why it all started. But . . . what if she did? And what if Faye told Jake? Certainly, no matter how fond she was of Cass, her loyalty would be to her grandson. No, Charlie could not deal with that. Not yet.

  “Yes, but I feel like I’m failing it, you know? Like, today should be busy. Right now the bakery should be packed. Makewell’s hasn’t even opened yet.” Charlie shrugged, feeling dejected and worried.

  Faye put her box of squares down on the counter. “Oh, honey, you think the fact that no one has come in here yet today has anything to do with the Makewell’s rumor?”

  “Well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the place this slow on a Monday morning. So far, you’re my only customer—and Sharon, but she didn’t buy anything.”

  Faye grimaced. “Oh dear. Listen, Cassie. Sharon may have gotten a few people on her side, but trust me when I say no one will last past this morning. Mark my words.”

  “On her side about . . . ?”

  “Technology isn’t my strong suit, dear, so I’m not exactly sure what this means, but something about a livelier stream?”

  Charlie nodded. “We started something new online yesterday, to make things a little more modern around here and get the bakery some exposure. But I messed up.”

  “I didn’t see it, but from what I hear, some people think you were perhaps a bit harsh on that boy.”

  Charlie thought back to her heated conversation with Brett. Realizing it had all taken place online, and that people had seen it, made her so embarrassed she could barely look at Faye. “I was. I feel awful.”

  “Oh, don’t be too hard on yourself. It was about time he got the message. You’re a dear, Cassie, but you do need to stand up for yourself more. And it sounds like you did.”

  “I guess I did.” Charlie gave Faye a weak smile.

  “Please, don’t let it get to you like this. It’ll blow over, I’m sure of it. And if you want Sharon to be on your side, all you need to do is give her some of your sourdough starter. She’s trying to start a dog biscuit company or some such, and she’s been yapping all over town about how if she only had some of the famous Woodburn starter she’d be able to make the best biscuits in the world.”

  “Oh, so that’s why she was acting strange about the starter this morning,” Charlie said. “But why wouldn’t she have just said something?”

  “We don’t always know how to ask for what we want,” Faye replied. “Look, Cassie. You’re a smart, tough young lady and you’ll figure out what to do about this, and Makewell’s. I know you will. And I know it will not involve backing down and apologizing to Brett, or rolling over and letting anyone ruin your family business.” Faye glanced at her watch. “Now, I need to get going. I have some Christmas shopping to do, and then Jake’s dog will be wanting her romp around the yard.”

  Just the mention of Jake’s name, even in her bleak mood, lifted Charlie’s spirits. But only for a second. A boycott. This was not good. She thanked Faye for coming in, and then reluctantly returned to the laptop and the streaming. She fast-forwarded past all the innocuous stuff—mostly, she and Walter discussing the Starlight Bread—and then, a long tract of time when it was just Walter working in the bakery, which must have been during her hike with Jake. Charlie pressed play again as a shadowy figure appeared at the door, then came into focus. Then, on-screen Walter was telling her someone was there to see her. She was used to watching herself on camera, but this was different, and her mouth went dry.

  “How about you don’t tell me how to run my bakery?” On the screen, her voice was harsh and cold. It made her wonder how anyone at all believed she was Cass. Her sister never spoke to anyone like that.

  The on-screen conversation went on. “You’re like a stranger these days, Cass,” Brett was saying. “Like an imposter. Like someone has taken over your brain. I’m here because I love you, and up until recently, I thought you loved me, too!”

  “Well, that’s on you, Brett. I think I’ve been very clear about my wishes for you to give me some space—”

  “I have been giving you space. But I never imagined you were going to cheat on me!”

  “Cheat on you?! Brett, we are broken up, don’t you get that? We are no longer together, and that means I am free to do what I want.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re doing this to me. You’re breaking my heart, Cass—”

  “Please, just stop it. Stop it with the guilt trip. I can’t take it anymore.” Charlie, sitting in the empty bakery watching all of this, knew the worst was yet to come.

  “Of course you don’t understand, Brett.” Charlie’s voice was thick with frustration. “This sort of thing is beyond your comprehension. All you understand is this small life, and this small town. You think this place is perfect, and what you don’t understand is that it’s possible for people to want more than just a predictable life in a predictable place. You don’t think it’s possible for people to outgrow each other, to maybe even outgrow where they’re from and want more. You just want us to stay here, never change, never be anything except who everyone in Starlight Peak thinks we are. I’m so tired of it! Don’t you understand that? I’m sick and tired of seeing your face every single time I turn around—and I want you to leave me alone.”

  Her face was partially obscured because she had turned slightly, but Brett’s was in focus at this point, and the camera picked up every nuance of his anguish. Damn it. This was bad. Not only had she told off Brett, she had insulted every
one in Starlight Peak, a town full of people with a very deep sense of loyalty and affection for the place. You didn’t call Starlight Peak small and boring and not expect there to be consequences. Besides, it wasn’t how she really felt about her hometown, and she felt terrible for saying it.

  Charlie started fiddling with the program’s settings, looking for a way to take the video down and permanently delete it. But nothing she tried worked. Walter would know, but she didn’t want to call him in on his day off.

  Finally, she gave up trying to delete the video and closed the program. She put her head in her hands for a moment. She could not fix this. Not right now. She had damaged the bakery’s reputation and failed at handling Cass’s life the way her sister had asked her to. What was done was done. But she could try to make it right from now on.

  She picked up the sheath of orders she still had to deal with and started sorting them. For four more days, until the swap was over, Charlie would focus only on the things she could control. She would stop worrying about Austin and Sweet & Salty and trust that Cass had it under control—the way Cass was trusting her to keep things under control at home. She would busy herself filling outstanding orders, be friendly to everyone who came in the bakery, and do her part to streamline things at Woodburn so when Cass returned the family business would have a decent chance of staying afloat if Makewell’s did indeed move into town. To that end, she linked the bakery’s e-mail—because at least Cass was not so stuck in the past that the bakery didn’t even use e-mail—to the website she had created and started working on an online order form. By the time she was done, a few customers had started to arrive. She was careful to keep the friendly smile on her face as she packaged up orders and rang up tallies.

  “Thank you, come back soon!” Charlie sang out, her voice full of forced cheer. This was what she did for a living: performed. She was going to get through this. She just needed to keep up the act for a few more days.