7

Cass

Thursday: 9 Days Until Christmas . . .

Los Angeles

Sweat trickled down the back of Cass’s fifties-style halter-neck sateen dress as she worked alongside Sydney on their recipe for the day’s Sweet & Salty challenge. Cass had arrived that morning with yet another crumpled recipe in hand—and had had to admit to her assistant that, at the moment, there was no file of recipes for the rest of the week. “I’m sorry,” Cass had said, struggling to think of a plausible excuse. “I was a little behind already, and then I got injured, and I just—I messed up. The recipes aren’t ready. We’re going to have to work on the fly until—” Until my sister finally gets back to me and sends us what we need to get through this week. “Until I get caught up. Meanwhile, I think I came up with something pretty delicious last night. And maybe we can have some fun together, being spontaneous? Like real pastry chefs?” Sydney’s smile had faltered then and Cass realized she’d said the wrong thing. “I mean—We are real pastry chefs. Just . . .”

“It’s okay, Charlie. You’re having a hard week, I get it.” Sydney had gone off to gather up the ingredients they needed for the recipe then. Cass had stood still for a moment, trying to gather her emotions and her thoughts. Now, she vowed to find a moment of privacy to call her sister—whose phone had been off the night before, and who had not answered when Cass tried the bakery, late in the evening when she got back from the set. There had been no missed calls from Charlie, but five from Brett. Cass had listened to his voicemails but gathered no clues about whether her sister had talked to him yet. “I just miss you,” he had said, so many times she had finally deleted the messages and turned off her phone for the night.

“On your marks, everyone!” It was time to tape the day’s Sweet & Salty challenge, and Cass joined Austin under the bright lights. All at once, with the bustle all around her, Cass felt something new: exhilaration. It had been a stressful morning, sure, but she had done it. Cass’s days in Starlight Peak were generally uniform, because all anyone wanted was exactly what her family had been baking and selling for generations. If there was any deviation, people noticed. The month before, she had tried adding a hint of lavender to the lemon bars and there had almost been a town riot. Here in Los Angeles, she was trying new things—and starting to enjoy it. Maybe the missing recipe file wasn’t such a disaster after all.

“I’m going with a classic today,” Austin announced in his self-assured way, which made Cass both envious and annoyed. He was always relaxed, whether on camera or speaking to the crew, his voice smooth and his tone pleasant, with inflections and modulations in all the right places. It was impossible not to enjoy listening to Austin Nash, as irritating as that was. Plus, he never stumbled over a line; not ever. And he was always so patronizingly helpful when Cass fumbled her lines, which happened all too frequently.