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.