The Holiday Swap(82)
22
Charlie
Thursday: 2 Days Until Christmas . . .
Starlight Peak
Charlie had awoken early in her old bedroom at her parents’ house. It was strange, being back in her childhood home and all alone at Christmastime. Normally the house would be full of Christmas cheer. But between her fight with Cass the night before and the uncertainty around her parents’ snowed-in flight delays, she was feeling lonelier than ever.
The initial shock of knowing Austin had scooped the job out from under her had faded—though she still wasn’t sure how it had happened—but in its place was a sense of failure that Charlie was unaccustomed to, and she didn’t like it. It was the first time in years that she had no plan, no handle on her career trajectory, and it was alarming. Her sleep had been fitful, and she knew the only solution for now was a strong cup of coffee. Charlie scavenged around the kitchen until she found an old tin of grounds in the freezer—her parents were tea drinkers—and brewed a pot.
Charlie was refilling her mug when her phone pinged. She glanced at the screen, and was so distracted she nearly overfilled her mug,
Hey, can we talk?
Jake. Charlie’s stomach dropped, coffee bitter in her throat. Her fingers hovered as she tried to figure out what to say. She still didn’t know what Cass had said to Jake outside the bakery, but without question the interaction clearly had left Jake confused. Because Cass obviously had no clue what Charlie had been up to all week, or just how far things had gone with Jake.
Charlie typed, erased, typed, erased, finally settling on:
Hey. Can’t chat right now, but I promise I’ll explain soon.
The coffee no longer appetizing—her stomach soured by the text exchange, and what had to come next—Charlie set her mug in the sink. Then she headed upstairs to get ready for what she hoped wouldn’t be the most disastrous day yet.
* * *
? ? ?
When Charlie arrived at the bakery, having borrowed her parents’ car to get there as the Prius wasn’t great in heavy snow, she was surprised that Cass wasn’t around. She had hoped they could talk. She was still reeling from the night before, but if anyone had Charlie’s best interests in mind, it was her twin sister. Even though they lived hours apart, Cass was—had always been—Charlie’s “person.” She still had plenty of questions, and she had her own explaining to do, but the last thing she wanted was for all of this to drive a permanent wedge between them.
“Is Cass upstairs?” It was weird to finally be able to be herself with Walter. She was so used to playing her sister that she had to remind herself that she could be Charlie now.
Walter looked up. “Oh. Hi, Charlie. Cass told me you were coming in, but I wasn’t sure when. I’m glad to see you.”
“I’m here now and happy to help out,” she said, smiling at the assistant as she tied the apron strings around her waist. “Any idea where my sister got off to?”
“She said she had to deal with a few things—including the issue with the sourdough starter.” Charlie felt awful as she thought about the icing sugar mix-up. “But she’ll be back later.” Walter handed her a spool of shimmering silver ribbon and a pair of scissors. Swaths of ribbon had to be cut to tie up the bakery’s gingerbread cookie decorating kits.
Walter slid the trays of gingerbread cookies out of the oven, then peered out the bakery’s front window at the falling snow. “It’s really coming down now. Are your mom and dad going to make it back in time?”
Charlie glanced up from the ribbons she was cutting, frowning. “Their flight keeps getting delayed, but last I heard they were still scheduled to depart tonight. Fingers crossed.”
Walter started transferring the hot cookies to the cooling tower. Charlie, now used to the bakery’s space and routine with Walter, moved about with ease, getting the ribbon and bags ready. Then she reached for the sprinkles and silver balls—the bottles tucked toward the back of the cupboard, mostly hidden in shadows.
“Huh. I was just about to tell you where those were, but looks like you figured it out,” Walter said. “Which is sort of weird . . . How did you know where Cass kept them?”
Charlie laughed to cover her blunder. “Ah, don’t overthink it, Walter. It’s a twin thing. This is exactly where I would have put sprinkle bottles, too.”
Over the next couple of hours they worked side by side, baking and cooling more gingerbread, chatting about everything from baking hacks to how much snow was expected by Christmas.
“Cass told me you were interested in culinary school. And television.” Walter gave a shy nod.
“You know, I’m happy to help you however I can,” Charlie said, not sure that offer carried any weight now. But if Walter noticed the hesitation in her voice, he made no comment.
She looked at the boxes full of decorating kits, finally complete and ready to be delivered. “Those are for the firehouse, right?” Every Christmas Eve the firefighters handed the decorating kits out to the kids during Starlight Peak’s annual holiday event.
“Yeah. I was going to drop them over there on my way home,” Walter said.
“Why don’t I do it?” Charlie said. “I can pop out and be back in ten minutes, no problem.”
“You sure?” Walter was leaving early for his family’s tree-trimming party. He told Charlie he could skip it if she needed him to stick around, but she insisted he go. “Trust me, you’ll miss those family traditions once you leave home,” she had told him. She thought back to her own family’s traditions: her dad’s famous gingerbread cake, served warm with candied oranges and whipped cream; opening one present on Christmas Eve—always a book and pajamas; the photo of the four of them in their ugly sweaters taken each Christmas morning in front of the tree.