The ringing phone interrupted her thoughts.

“Hi, honey, it’s me, just—”

Cass laughed. “I know, Dad, just checking up on me. I told you, I’m fine. Everything here is fine. You should be enjoying your anniversary trip with Mom.”

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. Plus, they loved the bakery—a sentiment Cass shared with her parents. So, Cass had finally taken matters into her own hands this year, consulting with her twin sister, Charlie, and chosen the perfect anniversary trip for her parents—one they would never be able to say no to: whale-watching in Cabo. Cass’s grand plan was to run the bakery so well, especially during the hectic holiday season, that her parents would realize she was ready to take over the business.

“Oh, we are, kiddo!” her father said. “Having a great time. But we’re still your parents, and you know how your mom worries.” Cass smiled. Her dad was the worrier. “This time of year is so hectic, and I don’t have to tell you how finicky that dough can be.”

“Dad, please don’t worry. I’m fine, and so is the dough.” This was a lie, but Cass worked hard to keep the strain out of her voice.

Once she’d finally reassured her parents that the bakery wasn’t collapsing in their absence, Cass returned her attention to the dough. She had to pull herself together. Starlight Bread was important, as much a part of the town’s heritage as the decorated Christmas tree in the town square, the nightly caroling sessions, and the Starlight Eve party held in the square the night before Christmas. That was when every household got their Starlight Bread order. It was tradition. And it meant a huge amount of the time-consuming bread needed to be baked, in addition to the bakery’s regular holiday offerings.

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.