The Holiday Swap

by Maggie Knox

Don’t let him get to you. Austin Nash. Someone she had a sour history with and her co-host on the network reality baking show Sweet & Salty, which had run for two seasons but was slated to be replaced by a new show, called Bake My Day, after the holidays. The current Sweet & Salty special they were co-hosting—a twelve-days-to-Christmas countdown, featuring twelve amateur bakers vying for the top spot and twenty-five thousand dollars—was meant to be festive and fun. However, Austin Nash left Charlie feeling more bah-humbug than merry and bright. This holiday special was also Charlie’s last chance to impress the network executives and secure the Bake My Day hosting job, which would mean the end of having to share a stage with Austin Nash.

However, what a somewhat naïve but highly ambitious Charlie hadn’t realized when she said yes to Sasha’s offer was that she’d be sharing the stage with her culinary school nemesis, Austin Nash.

Even if he proved as infuriating as he had been at school, Charlie was prepared to deal with it—because this kind of opportunity didn’t come along every day.

Life in quaint Starlight Peak was so much simpler than city life. And the best part about her hometown? Austin Nash wasn’t there.

“But . . . I have to be back on set. I can’t let . . .” Charlie swallowed hard. With Bake My Day on the line, I can’t let Austin win this round.

“Okay . . . sure. But Sasha has to know, because you won’t be on set.” “Oh, I’m going to be on set,” Charlie said, pulling out her phone. “Dr. Miguel said no screens, Charlie.” Priya tried to pull the phone out of her hand, but Charlie hung on. “He’s a physician assistant. And no one can know about the concussion. I’m serious. No one.”

The whole effect reminded Cass of a snow globe, and she paused to reflect on how beautiful it was.

Her parents, Thomas and Helen Goodwin, had taken over Woodburn Breads bakery from Helen’s grandfather almost three decades earlier, and had been working nearly 365 days a year ever since. Cass had been trying to convince them to retire and enjoy the life they had worked so hard for, but they were stubborn.

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.

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?

“It’s beautiful. Whoever buys it will be lucky.” “It’s already sold,” Brett said, walking over to the table. He poured two glasses, handing one to Cass. “Oh really? Who bought it? Anyone I know?” “Yes. Someone you know very well.” Brett clinked his glass to hers, then said, “Me. I bought it for us.” “Sorry?”

“I orchestrated a fast close. I had to do something to convince you.” “I told you I needed time, Brett.” Cass gestured around wildly. “Not a house!” “You needed time. I didn’t. I’ve always known what I want when it comes to you.”

Brett was used to getting what he wanted first and then putting out the fires later.

“Actually, I’m not sorry. I’m—I’m pissed, Brett. You keep saying you know what you want, but you don’t ever stop to consider what I want. Which was a month to think—not a month for you to go and choose the house we were going to live in.”

“Keep the ring, Brett,” Cass said. “It’s over.”

“I know the Woodburn recipes like the back of my hand. I’ll take care of everything. No one will know you aren’t me, and I’m not you. And then, when the holidays are over, we’ll switch back.”

Cass marveled at how different her daily view was from Charlie’s.

Thomas Goodwin, a celebrated Cordon Bleu chef at a successful restaurant, was living in Santa Monica when he met Helen Woodburn, who was on a spring break vacation with some friends. The two had swiftly fallen in love, and Thomas had given up his L.A. lifestyle and career, moving to Starlight Peak to run Woodburn Breads with Helen. Their dad always said it had been the easiest and best decision of his life.

“Austin makes my life—which is now your life—miserable just for fun. Ignore him as much as you can, and stay in your lane. I believe in you.”

She barely ever measured at the bakery now, while Charlie approached every recipe with laser-focused precision. In part, it was the difference in their culinary training—Cass had gone to business school rather than culinary school and had been home-taught baking skills by her parents—but it also spoke to the difference in their ambitions. Charlie wanted to hit the big time; Cass was happiest on her home turf.

It was only when she was bumper to bumper that she remembered one of Charlie’s most important instruction: give yourself an hour to get to the set, especially in rush hour.

You are Charlie. You are Charlie . . . “I work on Sweet and Salty. I’m Charlie Goodwin, one of the host-judges. You must have seen me?”

And it was true; Cass had watched every episode. But, somehow, she’d never noticed that while Austin got to play the role of serious pastry chef in his whites, Charlie was . . . well, what Cass saw when she looked in the mirror made her feel like little more than a pretty prop.

She selected a wide gold cuff bracelet. With it on, Cass felt even less chef-like. She wore no jewelry when she baked, not even the tiny diamond stud earrings her parents had given the twins when they turned eighteen.

Okay, Cass. You can do this. She could. She had to. For Charlie. For herself—to prove she was more than just Cass Goodwin from Starlight Peak, with her whole life all laid out.

She was terrified. Her heart felt like hummingbird wings inside her chest. But she forced her shoulders down and back, and reminded herself she was Charlie Goodwin—reality television star and kick-ass pastry chef. You. Can. Do. This.

Walter Demetre, the student who helps me in the bakery—remember him? We used to babysit him and his sister—comes in at 5:45 a.m. Also,

Over the years the two had swapped identities on numerous occasions. Once Charlie had pretended to be Cass at the local fall fair baking competition, because Cass had strep throat and had lost her voice, and brought home the blue ribbon for her twin’s pecan squares. But those times were nothing like this. For one thing, the swaps were brief, and there had never been quite so much at stake.

“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.”

You are Cass. You have a cat named Gateau and you live upstairs and do not have a tattoo.

“A chef’s domain should always be free of clutter, mess, and anyone who doesn’t understand the art of the work,”

Bye, Cass.” “Bye,” Charlie said, wondering where Jake the firefighter had come from.

“The usual?” Charlie nodded, wondering what Cass’s “usual” was. “Sounds great.”

Then she reached for her glass again at the same time Jake reached for his, and her fingers brushed his. A spark of electricity crackled between them, and as their eyes met Charlie knew he felt it, too. Oh no, she thought. We could have a problem here.

Cass was so happy to see a friendly face, but then remembered Miguel thought she was Charlie, which meant he also thought she was a reality-show celebrity. Not some small-town baker who was wholly out of her element.

High school was tough at the best of times, even when you were popular enough.

“I’d be happy to write you a glowing reference.” Charlie bent down to check on the lemon squares she’d put in the oven earlier. “I don’t know how anyone lives in Starlight Peak past high school, to be honest.” She froze, realizing her mistake. “I mean, I don’t know how anyone who wants to be a world-class pastry chef lives here forever.”

But now Charlie wondered if Cass ever felt stifled here. If it really had been as easy for her to stay as it had been for Charlie to leave.

“Before I forget, Gran would like to order a dozen lemon squares for her book club. Clearly that’s the priority here this morning . . . at six-thirty a.m.”

“But your parents prefer the old-fashioned way, right?” Walter said. “No website, no social media, a landline.” “If a chain bakery moves into town and Woodburn Breads hasn’t joined the twenty-first century . . . I’m worried what that could mean for business.” Charlie may have only been tasked with running the bakery for the week, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help her family—and the future of Woodburn Breads—in a more permanent way.

“Maybe we’re all just works in progress.”

Miguel’s and Cass’s eyes met in the flickering candlelight, and Cass reveled in the fact that she knew one thing for sure: this was definitely a date.

Cass nodded, thinking about how the bakery wasn’t quite like being in a surgical suite but was all-consuming nonetheless.

“Charlie!” The dreamlike bliss she’d been feeling evaporated the moment she heard her sister’s voice. “Cass, we need to talk.”

“Let me guess, along with being a firefighter, expert gnocchi maker, cat rescuer, and photographer, you’re also a trained massage therapist?” Jake chuckled. “I like using my hands. What can I say?”

Nothing on set was like this—the desserts and confections she made required such precision. But this was something she had done for most of her life, and she felt nostalgic being back at it.

And thank you, Jake. For so many things. For waking me up. For really seeing me—even if you had no idea who you were really seeing.

“I couldn’t find my phone, and then it was dead . . . and I’m just so angry with myself. You’re sure you’re doing okay? I tried to watch the show earlier but—” But I was preoccupied with the drama of my own life. And I let you down.

“I actually have some really good news. My sense of taste and smell are back. Which means . . . you can come home, and I’ll go back to L.A. to finish the show.” It was hard to ignore how this proposal made Charlie feel—deeply nostalgic for a hometown she hadn’t left yet. Plus, what would be like to say goodbye to Jake? All of it made her feel like her insides were being twisted up. “But thank you, Cass. I really do owe you one.”

“Okay, so we agree. Let’s stick to the original plan. I’ll handle Sweet and Salty and Austin, you handle Brett and the bakery, and we’ll see each other on Christmas Eve, just like we agreed in the first place.”