“Oh, you’re not doing much actual baking, hon. Mostly you supervise the contestants and testing, and then judge their desserts.” She stared at Cass in the mirror, pursing her lips. “You’ve watched the show, right? Didn’t Charlie run through this with you?”

“Yes, I’ve watched the show.” Cass replied. Their voices were mere whispers now. 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. But she didn’t have time to worry about that now. She had to focus on playing Charlie convincingly, even in the most revealing, uncomfortable outfit she had ever worn.

“You’re going to be okay, Cass. Charlie believes in you—and therefore, so do I.”

Priya had finished sparkling up every bit of her exposed skin. Cass stood. “You’re right. It’s all going to be fine. I can do this.”

“That’s the spirit,” Priya said. Cass was about to leave the room, when Priya called out, “Wait!” She opened a drawer below the makeup counter, revealing a cache of bracelets and baubles. “I almost forgot. Your wrist. We need to cover up the space where Charlie’s tattoo would be.” 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.

Cass took a deep breath and held herself tall as she walked out of the room. But Priya stopped her yet again, the pair of glossy black heels Wardrobe had picked out for her in hand. “Don’t forget these.” Cass frowned at the shoes, longing for her comfortable and familiar clogs, or at least wishing she could stay in the flip-flops Wardrobe had given her.

With a sigh Cass took the heels from Priya, who whispered, “Good luck,” before going back into the room to clean up. She slid on the shoes, which pinched and felt awful, and tried to take a few steps, stumbling as she did. 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.

With new resolve, Cass teetered off down the hall toward the set. Halfway there, Austin appeared, on his way to Priya to get his shiny-nose touch-up. He paused as they met in the hall and she slowed down, too.

“Hey,” he said, tilting his head, a concerned expression on his face. “Are you sure you’re alright? You seem a bit unsteady. Anything I can do to help?”

“No thanks,” Cass said firmly, speeding up with considerable effort in the stilt-like shoes.

• • •

As Cass walked onto the set, which was smaller than it looked on television and crowded with large cameras, people bustling around wearing headsets, and taped markers on the floor that she had no clue how to decipher, she squinted at the too-bright lights.