“Well . . . maybe.” He smiled, and she noticed he was blushing. “But it’s not just that. Charlie’s such a talented pastry chef.” Suddenly, he looked even more embarrassed. “And so are you, Cass. I mean it. I’ve learned so much from you.”

Charlie laughed. “Don’t worry, I get it. Lemon squares and gingerbread houses aren’t exactly challenging. I get a little bored sometimes, too.” Though she felt that way, she wondered if Cass was content baking the same offerings, week after week.

“But you’re amazing at what you do,” Walter said, so earnestly. “You always tell me the truly talented pastry chef is one who can master the basics and understand the fundamentals rather than all the . . . What is it you call it?”

Charlie had no clue. “Um . . .”

“Razzle-dazzle! That’s what you always say. That those fancy restaurant desserts and the ones on television are just a lot of razzle-dazzle.”

“Right,” Charlie said, her smile fading. Was that really what Cass thought of her work?

“I want to go to culinary school, like Charlie, and I thought that between working here and getting some experience on a show like Sweet and Salty, well, I’d have an easier time getting in?”

“I’d be happy to write you a glowing reference.”

Charlie bent down to check on the lemon squares she’d put in the oven earlier. “I don’t know how anyone lives in Starlight Peak past high school, to be honest.” She froze, realizing her mistake. “I mean, I don’t know how anyone who wants to be a world-class pastry chef lives here forever.”

“But you’re world-class! And you live here not because you have to, but because you want to.”

Charlie considered that. It had been years since she’d left Starlight Peak, and her family always assumed she would be the one to go because her aspirations stretched beyond what the bakery could offer. That meant that Cass, who had never expressed a desire to leave their hometown, would stay and help their parents with Woodburn Breads. But now Charlie wondered if Cass ever felt stifled here. If it really had been as easy for her to stay as it had been for Charlie to leave.

Charlie pushed aside this niggling doubt, and the hint of guilt that came with it, and smiled at Walter. “Listen, I know Charlie would love to talk to you. I promise to hook you two up as soon as the show wraps and we get through the holidays, okay?”

“Thanks, Cass.” Walter was about to go back to his dough rolling when the bakery’s phone rang. “Happy Holidays! Woodburn Breads, Walter speaking.”

A moment later he held out the handset. “It’s for you.”

Charlie slid off her oven mitts, then took the handset from Walter. “Char—Cass speaking.” She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, annoyed at her endless mistakes. By the time she finally got the hang of things, it would be time to switch back.