The Holiday Swap(93)

“I am so glad it was helpful, Cass. And thanks for the chat yesterday.” Sharon gave Brett a shy look, and Cass saw her cheeks had reddened more than could be explained by the chill in the air.

“You bet,” Cass said. “I wanted to pick up some biscuits for Bonnie. Any suggestions?”

“Well, Jake’s had Bonnie on a diet so he usually gets her these.” Sharon pointed to the low-calorie biscuits, which Charlie had told Cass that Bonnie hated. “But you know what? It’s Christmastime! So I would suggest these sourdough turkey stuffing biscuits. All-natural, and they are my dogs’ favorites.”

“Sold,” Cass said.

As Sharon happily packed up a bag of treats, Brett turned to Cass. “I’m glad you’re okay, Cass. Scary stuff what happened on the trail,” he said.

Cass touched her fingers to her temple. “Thanks. Me, too.”

“And, uh, I’m also glad we had a chance to talk.” He cast a quick glance to Sharon, who was busy tying multiple pieces of ribbon around the top of the cellophane bag.

Cass raised her eyebrows, glancing at Brett and then Sharon in a questioning way. He grinned and nodded, and then shrugged, as if to say, I wasn’t expecting this, either.

Sharon handed Cass her change and the biscuits, and then she looked at Brett. “Should I tell her? Or do you want to?”

“Tell me what?”

“Okay, I’ll do it.” Sharon was practically bursting with excitement. “You and your family don’t have to worry about Makewell’s, Cass.”

“What? Why?”

Brett looked about as pleased as Sharon but let her deliver the news. “I bought the building! For a Top Dogs bakery and shop!” She clapped her hands together and let out a squeal. “Isn’t that the best news?”

Cass was quiet for a moment, trying to process what Sharon had told her. “But . . . how? I mean, why?”

“Well, I am ready to do what we talked about. To become part of this town again. And you’ve inspired me, Cass. Why shouldn’t I try to give this business thing a go? I have money from my divorce, and I want to use it to build something real for my future. Know what I mean?”

“I do, Sharon,” Cass said, a lump in her throat. “I really do.”

“So, with Brett’s help we told that poser Sarah Rosen that she could take her ‘Fakery’—get it? That’s what I’ve been calling her bakery, because it’s nothing like Woodburn Breads, and we don’t want anyone in Starlight Peak who isn’t the real deal, Cass. Anyway, we told her the building was no longer for sale and she should move on. That she and Makewell’s were not welcome here. Merry Christmas, Cass!”

Cass’s head was spinning. It was a 180-degree turn—in the best possible direction—and she was thrilled for Sharon to start her business but also incredibly grateful to her for removing one of the greatest challenges her family, and the bakery, had ever faced. “I don’t even know what to say. This is amazing news.”

“We agree,” Brett said, and he and Sharon exchanged a warm look.

“Again, thank you, Sharon. And if you need anything while you get set up, I am happy to help. I do know a thing or two about baking.”

Sharon came around the booth to give her a hug, which Cass returned gratefully. They exchanged goodbyes and then Cass, still reeling from the news, floated over to the bench at the Peak Pub’s stall, where Miguel was waiting for her.

She sat down heavily, trying to take it all in.

“Hey, are you not feeling well?” Miguel asked, turning so he could properly look at her.

“I’m okay,” she murmured. “I’m better than okay, actually.” Cass grabbed his hand and then started walking away from the stalls and the rink, pulling him with her.

“Where are we going? Cass . . . CASS, stop.” He stilled, and she did, too.

Then she smiled at him. “Trust me, okay?”

Miguel sighed, clearly worried about her, but he allowed Cass to lead him to whatever destination she had in mind. A minute later they were climbing the few steps of the town square’s gazebo. It was decorated with so many twinkle lights the structure appeared to be made entirely of stars. There were a couple of teenagers snuggled in against the far side, but they quickly disappeared down the other set of stairs when they saw Cass and Miguel step into the glowing dome. The familiar bars of “Silver Bells” drifted from the speakers spaced out around the skating rink, but otherwise, all Cass could hear was the sound of Miguel’s breath, his face so close to hers.

“Miguel Rodriguez, how did I get so lucky to have met you?” She said it softly, going up on her toes so they were nearly face-to-face, only inches apart.

“I could ask the same about you.” He smiled, his dimples illuminated in the twinkle lights. Cass felt her knees go weak. Miguel felt it, too, and he held her tighter, then suggested they sit on one of the gazebo benches. But Cass shook her head, because she had something different in mind.

She shrugged out of his arms, then tugged him by the hand to the gazebo’s center. Then she looked up to the ceiling. Miguel, taking her back in his arms, glanced up, too. He grinned, then threw back his head and laughed. “How long have you been planning this?”

Cass shrugged, demurely, and said, “I have my ways.”