He rested his hands on the open window’s frame. “As a proper thank-you for today, would you like to have dinner with me? Maybe tomorrow night?”

“Oh.” Well, this was a surprise. And she couldn’t think of anything she’d rather do more. “I’d like that. A lot. More than you can possibly know.” Easy, Cass. It’s just dinner.

“I’ve got a local favorite,” Miguel said, flashing her a smile and those adorable dimples. “Fabrizio’s, about a block away from the Hive. Do you know it?”

Even though she wasn’t familiar with any of the restaurants in the neighborhood, Charlie would have been. “Sure. That place is great. So, tomorrow night. Is seven-thirty okay?”

“Seven-thirty it is.” Miguel tapped his palms twice against the window frame, and took a step back, his smile widening.

“Can’t wait,” Cass said, which was the truth. She’d been bone tired just moments before, fantasizing about getting back to her sister’s apartment to rest. But now she felt elated. Miguel waved as she pulled away, that smile the only thing on Cass’s mind as she drove back to Santa Monica, humming “All I Want for Christmas Is You” along to the radio.

8

Charlie

Thursday: 9 Days Until Christmas . . .

Starlight Peak

“Can I ask you about something?” It was early morning and Walter was mixing dough for the popular Woodburn Breads take-home gingerbread house sets.

“Sure thing,” Charlie said, sorting gumdrops, chocolates, and sprinkles into small containers for the kits.

“I wanted to talk to you about your sister.”

“Okay,” Charlie said, wondering where this conversation was heading.

“What Charlie does is so cool. And I was wondering if maybe I could talk to her? About the show? I have some career-related questions.”

Charlie smiled. She had been a lot like Walter when she was his age, already focused on her future career as well. “I’m sure she’d be happy to talk with you. But what questions? Maybe I can help?”

Walter turned the gingerbread dough out onto the countertop. “School is sort of frustrating. I don’t exactly blend in, as you know.” He shrugged, and Charlie wondered what he meant. Maybe because he was a seventeen-year-old guy who preferred kneading dough and crafting confections at 5:30 a.m. side-by-side with his boss than spending time with kids his own age, doing typical teenager things. And Charlie had the sense by looking at him, with his lanky and still-scrawny frame, that athletics probably weren’t his strong suit. High school was tough at the best of times, even when you were popular enough.

But she needed to act like Cass, who obviously knew all of this already, so she nodded in agreement. “Sure.”

“I love working here, but sometimes I just want to get out of Starlight Peak, you know? I thought, maybe, I could ask Charlie about internships for these shows?”

“You want to be on television?” Charlie asked, closing up the containers of candy. Walter continued rolling out the dough, his movements efficient and smooth.