“I’ll find your food later, Gateau. Let’s not tell Cass about the ham, okay? Our little secret.” Charlie shut the door tightly to make sure Gateau couldn’t get out, then went to walk back downstairs. But the quick change of direction made her dizzy and she pressed her hands against the wall.

Charlie waited for the feeling to pass, then made her way down the stairs and back to the bakery. At that moment she heard a soft rap at the front door, and saw a young guy wearing a winter hat peering through the window. He waved when he saw her and she unlocked the door.

Charlie couldn’t believe this was the kid she and Cass used to babysit more than a decade ago. “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.”

She managed a laugh. “Right. Yesterday.”

“Everything okay?” Walter asked, bending down to untie the laces on his boots but keeping his eyes on hers.

“Just a bit of a headache.”

“Maybe you need to sleep more?” Walter suggested. “How’s the dough looking—I hope I left everything in good shape?”

“Um, pretty good I think.” Charlie glanced toward the row of baskets and wanted to cry with how many there were. She held out her arms for his coat and hat. “Let me hang these up for you.”

“Thanks, Cass,” Walter said. “Hey, cool ink! When did you get that?” For a moment Charlie was confused, but she followed his gaze to her wrist, and realized he was referring to her tattoo.

“Oh. My ink.” Her sluggish brain just couldn’t keep up.

Walter tied his apron and put a hairnet on. Then he frowned at Charlie. “What’s up with you today? Is it the Makewell’s rumor? I wouldn’t worry too much, Cass. Woodburn’s will be fine.”

“Of course it will.”

Charlie had her back to Walter as she hung his coat on the hook to the far side of the bakery, where two small tables with a couple of chairs provided space for patrons to enjoy their baked goods with a coffee. She paused to gather herself. You are Cass. You have a cat named Gateau and you live upstairs and do not have a tattoo.

“It’s just a temporary tattoo, for fun. I should probably cover it for work, so it doesn’t fade too fast,” she replied, smiling as she turned back around. “And Makewell’s would never fly in this town. I’m not worried at all. The people here like their traditions.” Then she saw Cass’s note on the countertop and lunged to grab it. Walter looked surprised at her quick movement. “Sorry, just needed to take a look at this before we get started.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Walter asked.

“Absolutely,” Charlie folded Cass’s note and shoved it into her apron’s front pocket. “Now, how about we get these loaves going?”