The Holiday Swap(17)
Charlie sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. Her head was killing her. Even the ibuprofen she’d taken an hour ago wasn’t touching the searing band of pain. She was running on no sleep and too much coffee, and couldn’t shake the feeling she had made a terrible mistake in asking Cass to switch places with her. Maybe her head injury was worse than she thought.
It was still dark outside. Charlie hadn’t been back home in almost a year—the show had been incredibly demanding on her time—and she was looking forward to seeing Starlight Peak once the sun came up. She hoped the familiarity of her hometown would be a soothing balm to her rattled nerves.
Rubbing her temples, Charlie surveyed the bakery’s kitchen. Little had changed since she and Cass were kids, helping their parents make and bake the treats for their tight-knit community. At Christmastime, though, the bakery’s production ramped up to a breakneck pace, and today alone she had to make dozens of loaves of the holiday Starlight Bread, along with the regular bakery offerings. She felt pressure against her shins, heard purring, and glanced down to discover Gateau, Cass’s beloved black cat, winding between her feet.
“Are you hungry?” Charlie asked, crouching down to scratch Gateau behind the ears. She was a dog person, but Gateau was more like a dog than a cat—Cass had apparently taught the cat to play fetch with a miniature tennis ball—which Charlie appreciated.
Cass had mentioned something about when and how to feed Gateau, but she couldn’t remember any of it. She looked around, wondering where Cass kept the cat food. She opened the bakery’s fridge and found some ham, which they used for the ham and cheese croissants, and rolled up a piece in her fingers. Glancing at the clock—a cuckoo clock in the shape of a cat, whose eyes moved back and forth with each passing second—Charlie saw it was almost six.
“Let’s get you upstairs. As much as I’d love to fulfill all your dreams and let you outside, your momma would kill me.” Charlie wiggled the ham roll and then called for Gateau to follow her upstairs to Cass’s apartment, which was over the bakery. A two-bedroom best described as “laid back,” not untidy but certainly more cluttered than what Charlie was used to. There were cheerful overstuffed pillows in pinks and oranges, and lemon-yellow drapes that captured the sunlight and spread it throughout the apartment. The apartment couldn’t have been more different from Charlie’s, which featured granite counters, stark-white cabinetry, and modern touches. But this homey space was perfect for Cass, and Charlie suddenly missed her sister and all the time they used to spend together. With a sigh, she put the piece of ham on the floor of the small kitchen, and Gateau happily sat in front of it.
“I’ll find your food later, Gateau. Let’s not tell Cass about the ham, okay? Our little secret.” Charlie shut the door tightly to make sure Gateau couldn’t get out, then went to walk back downstairs. But the quick change of direction made her dizzy and she pressed her hands against the wall.
Charlie waited for the feeling to pass, then made her way down the stairs and back to the bakery. At that moment she heard a soft rap at the front door, and saw a young guy wearing a winter hat peering through the window. He waved when he saw her and she unlocked the door.
Charlie couldn’t believe this was the kid she and Cass used to babysit more than a decade ago. “You’ve grown like a foot since I last saw you!”
Walter was in the midst of stomping his boots on the front doormat, sprinkles of snow flying off them, when he stopped and gave her a curious look. “I saw you yesterday, Cass.”
She managed a laugh. “Right. Yesterday.”
“Everything okay?” Walter asked, bending down to untie the laces on his boots but keeping his eyes on hers.
“Just a bit of a headache.”
“Maybe you need to sleep more?” Walter suggested. “How’s the dough looking—I hope I left everything in good shape?”
“Um, pretty good I think.” Charlie glanced toward the row of baskets and wanted to cry with how many there were. She held out her arms for his coat and hat. “Let me hang these up for you.”
“Thanks, Cass,” Walter said. “Hey, cool ink! When did you get that?” For a moment Charlie was confused, but she followed his gaze to her wrist, and realized he was referring to her tattoo.
“Oh. My ink.” Her sluggish brain just couldn’t keep up.
Walter tied his apron and put a hairnet on. Then he frowned at Charlie. “What’s up with you today? Is it the Makewell’s rumor? I wouldn’t worry too much, Cass. Woodburn’s will be fine.”
“Of course it will.”
Charlie had her back to Walter as she hung his coat on the hook to the far side of the bakery, where two small tables with a couple of chairs provided space for patrons to enjoy their baked goods with a coffee. She paused to gather herself. You are Cass. You have a cat named Gateau and you live upstairs and do not have a tattoo.
“It’s just a temporary tattoo, for fun. I should probably cover it for work, so it doesn’t fade too fast,” she replied, smiling as she turned back around. “And Makewell’s would never fly in this town. I’m not worried at all. The people here like their traditions.” Then she saw Cass’s note on the countertop and lunged to grab it. Walter looked surprised at her quick movement. “Sorry, just needed to take a look at this before we get started.”