“Cass?” A familiar voice greeted her.

“Hey, Jake.” Her stomach flip-flopped, and she glanced over at Walter, who seemed oblivious to her change in demeanor.

“I hope I’m not calling too early,” he said. Then she heard him muffle the phone on his end while he spoke with someone. “Before I forget, Gran would like to order a dozen lemon squares for her book club. Clearly that’s the priority here this morning . . . at six-thirty a.m.”

Charlie laughed as she wrote the order down in the book. “I just took some out of the oven. We’ll box them up for her.”

“Hey, thanks,” Jake said, and Charlie twisted the cord around her fingers, her whole body warming as she remembered the evening before—something she had been trying to avoid thinking about all morning. “So, I thought I could come by later to scope out some shots, once the bakery closes? Only if it works for you. I know you’re pretty slammed right now.”

“That works,” Charlie said, her mood lifted even further by the prospect of seeing Jake again. She tried to tell herself her excitement was more about getting the photos done and the website up and running, rather than the person on the other end of the phone. But she knew it wasn’t true. “What time are you thinking?”

“How about five-thirty?”

“That’s perfect. Can’t wait.” Walter looked over now, his eyebrows raised. She smiled at him, aware she was blushing.

“Me, too. Okay, see you then, Cass. And Gran says thanks for the lemon squares.”

Charlie hung up the phone, her smile still in place.

“How’s Jake doing?” Walter asked, cutting out sections of gingerbread for baking.

“Good! Yeah, he was just calling about lemon squares. And, well, I was thinking this place needs more of an online presence, and Jake offered to take some photos for us, for a website.” Charlie focused on transferring the squares to the cooling racks. “I was thinking maybe we could start some sort of livestream of the bakery?”

Walter wiped his hands on his apron, then walked over and pressed a palm against Charlie’s forehead. “Nope, no temperature.”

“Very funny,” Charlie said. She bent her head over the lemon squares, hoping to detect their fragrant smell. Nothing.

“But your parents prefer the old-fashioned way, right?” Walter said. “No website, no social media, a landline.”

“If a chain bakery moves into town and Woodburn Breads hasn’t joined the twenty-first century . . . I’m worried what that could mean for business.” Charlie may have only been tasked with running the bakery for the week, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t help her family—and the future of Woodburn Breads—in a more permanent way.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Walter said. “You know, Live.Li could be a good option.”

“Live.Li?” Charlie asked.

Walter nodded. “It’s a livestreaming platform, but it has some cool features and it’s not just a mobile app. I’m happy to help you set it up on the laptop if you want?”