The Holiday Swap(87)

Charlie expected her sister to say what she normally said when Charlie had a plan for her life. That’s a good idea, Charlie. You know what you’re doing. “Are you sure about that?” Cass said instead. “I think you need to reevaluate, sure. But a break? I don’t know about that. You’re Charlie Goodwin. You’re a hot commodity in L.A. You can do whatever you set your mind to. You just need to figure out what it is. As much as I wish it could be here in Starlight Peak, I don’t think that’s the answer. Not quite.”

Charlie flopped back in her uncomfortable hospital chair. “Except Jake,” she began.

“Jake. Yes.” Cass smiled. “I didn’t see that one coming. You two are . . . Well, even in my state yesterday, I swear to you I could see the sparks fly between the two of you. You’re in love!”

“Really? Because I think he’s disappointed in me right now, knowing I was lying about who I was this whole week. I don’t think that’s a situation I’m going to be able to rectify.”

“I know Jake. He’s the type of guy who gives second chances. Plus, I don’t think he’s going to find it easy to walk away from you.” Cass reached for the plastic cup of water beside her bed, sipped it, wrinkled her nose. “This water tastes like hospital. What I really need is a good coffee, some coffee cake to go with it, and to be home. Do you think you could arrange that for me, Charlie?”

Charlie jumped up. “Of course I can. The doctors said when you woke up on your own we’d talk about releasing you into my care, and the care of a certain sexy physician assistant—whom they seemed very impressed with, by the way. He really knows his stuff. I think they tried to offer him a job. Plus, it turns out the head of the ward is a fan of Sweet and Salty. Give me five minutes. I’ll get you out of here.”

Charlie left the room and strode down the hall. Out the window, the world was blanketed in snow, and she could see the mountains in the distance, and the colorful storefronts of the town she loved, all decorated for Christmas. Cass was back, and that really was all that mattered. But her relationship with Jake was still up in the air and, to top it all off, her parents’ flight had been further delayed. It was possible that, for the first time ever, the Goodwins weren’t all going to be together for Christmas. And that Woodburn Breads was not going to be able to provide enough Starlight Bread—275 loaves in total this year—for the town square Christmas Eve celebration. But getting Cass home would be enough. The rest, she could try to deal with later.



* * *



? ? ?

Charlie pushed the bakery door open slowly, knowing how sensitive a person felt after a head injury, and that even the slightest sound—like the tinkling of bells—could cause agony. She had driven home from the hospital at a snail’s pace, with the radio off even though at this time of year she constantly listened to Christmas carols. But Cass seemed perfectly fine. In fact, as the bells tinkled and the door opened, her entire face lit up. She looked happier than Charlie had ever seen her. Charlie followed her sister’s gaze.

Walter, Jake, and Miguel were lined up along the granite work space in the middle of the bakery, each wearing a Woodburn Breads apron. Miguel had some flour on his face, Jake had it all over his muscular arms, and Walter even had some in his hair. Bruce Springsteen was singing about kissing his baby beneath some mistletoe, and the three men were so busy with their work they didn’t notice Cass and Charlie enter.

The sisters stood and watched for a moment as the assembly line progressed: Walter would pull a sourdough boule out of a proofing basket, Miguel would knead the dried fruit and nuts into it, and Jake would carry it to the oven.

“Oh my,” Cass murmured. “I could watch this for hours.”

“Same,” Charlie said. “It’s like . . . the best television show in the world.”

Walter looked up and saw them. He waved at Charlie and Cass.

“Welcome back, you two! We’re all good here. How many loaves to go, guys?”

“Maybe two dozen?” Jake answered.

“Coffee me,” Miguel said, and without missing a beat, Walter filled his coffee cup and handed it over. Miguel gulped the coffee like it was water.

“We’ve been up all night,” Walter explained. “Having the first-ever Woodburn Breads Starlight Loaves Marathon. And, I hope you don’t mind”—he pointed at the laptop sitting on the granite worktop—“but I decided to turn it into a Live.Li broadcast. It’s going well. So far we have . . .” He leaned forward and peered at the screen. “Thirty thousand viewers.”

“Thirty thousand? Walter! There aren’t even three thousand people living in Starlight Peak.”

“Yeah, I think a lot of our viewers are in L.A.” A series of bings emitted from the screen, and Walter’s eyes roved over it. “Yep. All city folk. And they are loving this.” He typed a comment, then turned back to Charlie and said more quietly. “How’s Cass? Do you need to get her upstairs?”

Cass was standing rooted to the floor, a dreamy smile on her face—directed at Miguel. He was grinning back at her, flashing some extremely endearing dimples. “Permission to leave assembly line for ten seconds, boss?” Miguel said to Walter.

“Granted,” Walter said, but he spun the laptop around and the camera followed Miguel as he crossed the bakery floor in two strides and had Cass in his arms. “Ten, nine, eight . . .” Miguel kissed Cass quickly, then pulled away. “You’re okay? Really okay? I mean, you look okay—better than okay, you look great. But you’re really fine?”