The Holiday Swap(7)
As Cass gathered her thoughts, Sharon Marston trotted past with her two standard poodles, out for their nightly walk. Sharon slowed and peered through the bakery window, waving gaily at Cass. Cass halfheartedly waved back, then picked up one of the balls of dough. Sharon walked her dogs frequently throughout the day because she said they were energetic and needed a lot of exercise. But it was no secret the recent divorcée—she had left town after high school in the arms of a dashing but apparently philandering hockey player—liked to be out and about so she’d be the first to know what was going on. Sharon’s presence was a reminder that Starlight Peak was actually a lot like a snow globe: all of them trapped inside the glass dome.
Cass looked down and realized she’d overworked this one. Her agitated hands had turned what should have been a loose boule into a tightly packed ball. It would never rise properly now. She sighed and dropped the ball into the trash bin beside the counter, then began again, forcing herself to be gentler this time. Carefully, she stretched and formed the dough without overworking it, then placed it into its proofing basket. Cass had done this hundreds of times, and knew the result depended on patience. On calm. On letting the dough rise for as long as it needed to, even if she needed it to rise faster. Woodburn Breads had always managed to pull off the yearly feat of producing enough of its traditional loaves for every family in town to receive one at the Starlight Eve party—even the year the family’s sourdough starter, which had been passed through three generations, went a little too sour and her parents needed to start a new one from the dried strips of it they kept in the freezer. But this year was different, and not just because Cass was on her own.
“Focus, Cass, focus,” she told herself. Her black cat, Gateau, took this as an invitation to play and began winding himself between her legs as she moved between counters, tripping her.
“Gateau!” Cass’s voice was loud and stern in the empty bakery. It revealed the truth about how she was really feeling: nervous. Because once she was finished getting these boules into the proofing bowls, Cass had to handle something that had been hanging over her head for a month now. Something that was making her want to skip town altogether, even during her favorite time of year. It didn’t help that earlier that day she had developed a nagging headache. Cass dropped a second ball of dough into its basket. She was about to start the third ball when a tap at the window startled her.
It was Faye Christie, one of her favorite customers, with her grandson, Jake. Jake had moved from Colorado to Starlight Peak when Faye broke her ankle, back in September, and taken a job with the fire department as the newest firefighter.
She wiped her floury hands on her apron and went to unlock the door. A rush of cold air greeted her as she ushered Jake and Faye into the warmth of the bakery.
“Hey, Cass,” Jake said, taking off his toque to shake away the fine dusting of snow and flashing her an apologetic smile. “Gran had a doctor’s appointment this afternoon and I told her we’d missed the boat and we’d have to go somewhere else, but . . .”
Faye, who was eighty-seven and had barely slowed down in recent years, even when she’d broken her ankle, interrupted her grandson, “And I said, you know as well as I do Cassie will be in there, working away, like she always is and she’d probably welcome a little break.” She raised an eyebrow. “I think you should be on that Cabo holiday, not your parents.”
Cass smiled, already packing up the remaining lemon bars that were Faye’s favorite. The older woman often came to the bakery in the late afternoon, which was a less busy time and sometimes gave Cass a chance to share a coffee and a chat with Faye while Jake ran errands. “You know I can’t leave the bakery at this time of year.”
“You said that in the spring. And, in the summer. I’m just saying, there’s more to life than work, young lady.”
Cass passed the box across the counter. “On the house,” she said, hoping that would effectively change the subject. She waved a hand as Faye tried to give her cash. “You’re actually saving these lemon bars from the garbage, Faye. So, thank you.”
“Thanks, Cassie,” Faye said. “You’re a doll.” Then she turned to Jake, who had taken the box from Cass, and clucked at him. “Be careful there, young man. You know what I’m like if I don’t get one of Cassie’s lemon bars each day.”
Jake good-naturedly rolled his eyes as he tried not to smile. “I do, Gran. But let’s get out of Cass’s hair, okay?”
Cass walked them to the door and watched the older woman take her grandson’s offered arm so she could safely cross the snowy sidewalk. She did her best with the rest of the Starlight Bread sourdough balls, then covered the bowls in proofing cloths and checked the pile of orders she kept in a cabinet near the phone. As several sheets of paper fell to the floor she had the sudden thought that maybe she should come up with a better system for organizing them, but it was almost 7:30. She was due to meet Brett soon.
Untying her apron, she washed the flour and dough from her hands, and picked up her cell phone. For the third time that day, she tried Charlie’s number, and again, there was no answer. For a moment, Cass’s worry blossomed—and her headache grew stronger. It wasn’t like Charlie to be unavailable all day. She had a busy schedule with the baking show, yes, but she always managed to sneak away to talk to Cass if her sister needed her. And three missed calls should be a sure sign that her sister needed her, right?