“Huh. I was just about to tell you where those were, but looks like you figured it out,” Walter said. “Which is sort of weird . . . How did you know where Cass kept them?”

Charlie laughed to cover her blunder. “Ah, don’t overthink it, Walter. It’s a twin thing. This is exactly where I would have put sprinkle bottles, too.”

Over the next couple of hours they worked side by side, baking and cooling more gingerbread, chatting about everything from baking hacks to how much snow was expected by Christmas.

“Cass told me you were interested in culinary school. And television.” Walter gave a shy nod.

“You know, I’m happy to help you however I can,” Charlie said, not sure that offer carried any weight now. But if Walter noticed the hesitation in her voice, he made no comment.

She looked at the boxes full of decorating kits, finally complete and ready to be delivered. “Those are for the firehouse, right?” Every Christmas Eve the firefighters handed the decorating kits out to the kids during Starlight Peak’s annual holiday event.

“Yeah. I was going to drop them over there on my way home,” Walter said.

“Why don’t I do it?” Charlie said. “I can pop out and be back in ten minutes, no problem.”

“You sure?” Walter was leaving early for his family’s tree-trimming party. He told Charlie he could skip it if she needed him to stick around, but she insisted he go. “Trust me, you’ll miss those family traditions once you leave home,” she had told him. She thought back to her own family’s traditions: her dad’s famous gingerbread cake, served warm with candied oranges and whipped cream; opening one present on Christmas Eve—always a book and pajamas; the photo of the four of them in their ugly sweaters taken each Christmas morning in front of the tree.

When Walter opened the front door to leave it nearly flew on its hinges, the snow swirling outside. “Looks like we’re guaranteed a white Christmas,” he said, pulling his hat down more to cover his ears. “Tell Cass I’ll be back tomorrow to finish up the Starlight Bread?”

Charlie promised she would, wishing Cass would hurry up and get back to the bakery so they could talk. She’d told her twin she wanted to be alone, but now that she was, she wanted nothing more than to make things right with her sister.

• • •

Charlie sat in the car outside the firehouse, surrounded by boxes of gingerbread, trying to work up the nerve to ring the doorbell. The drive from the bakery to the firehouse had been a short, though white-knuckled, one. It was a blizzard now, and the heavy snow showed no signs of letting up anytime soon. She’d left a note for Cass, telling her she’d return shortly so they could talk, and a “Be Back Soon” sign on the bakery’s front door for any customers.

“You can do this,” she murmured, turning off the car. After a deep breath she texted Jake and told him she was outside, and could he talk now? Then, with a box in each arm, she walked up the front steps right as Jake opened the door.