“We put the snow order in just for you,” Cass said, winking at Miguel’s twin nieces.
Miguel reached out and rang the doorbell and the first bars of “Let It Snow” reverberated inside. Moments later, Charlie flung open the door. She was wearing a red apron, and there was flour on her nose.
“Hello, everyone! Welcome to Starlight Peak! And, Cass, you don’t have to ring the doorbell. Just walk right in. My house is your house.” Charlie kissed her sister on the cheek, then paused for a second, giving her a sly look. “Or was your house.”
It was a joke Charlie had used more than once during the past six months, since she and Jake had bought the house from Brett and moved in the late spring.
“Ha-ha, always the funny one.” Cass swatted her sister’s arm. Then she leaned in and whispered in Charlie’s ear, “Everything ready?”
“We’re all set,” Charlie whispered back. The twins exchanged a knowing smile before Charlie ushered the whole crew inside the warm house.
Cass put down her basket of gifts on a bench and pulled off her boots, then looked around at the mudroom she had once been told was perfect for her. It was now filled with dog leashes and hiking boots; Charlie’s stylish jackets were nestled next to Jake’s thick flannels. There were skis and snowshoes, and a bucket of tennis balls for Bonnie. She smiled. This place really was perfect for her sister and Jake.
Charlie led Cass, Miguel, and his parents into the kitchen while the rest of the Rodriguez clan made themselves at home, inside and out, where a snowman building competition had begun. At the stove Jake was stirring gravy in an apron that matched Charlie’s. Helen Goodwin stood beside Jake, calling out directions.
“Mom always likes to make the traditional Woodburn holiday gravy herself,” Cass murmured to Miguel. “No one—and I mean no one—better touch that wooden spoon.” Then to her sister she whispered, “She must really like Jake.”
Just then Helen turned and seeing them, her face lit up. “Miguel! Essie! Javier!”
“I think it’s a tie, Cass,” Charlie whispered back, gesturing her head toward Miguel. “She’s pretty crazy about that one, too.” Helen crossed the room, pulling Miguel in for a long hug first before doing the same with his parents.
“Um, hello, Mom? I’m right here,” Cass said. Helen kissed her daughter’s forehead. “Yes, but I just saw you this morning.” She laughed and turned back to Essie and Javier. “That’s a lot of driving, you all must be exhausted.”
“It was nothing,” Essie said. “Worth it to see the kids enjoying the snow. And we wouldn’t dream of missing the Goodwin holiday dinner!”
“Speaking of which,” Helen said, casting a concerned glance toward Jake and the stove. “I should really get back to the gravy. Jake! Keep stirring, this is the crucial moment . . .”
“Maybe next year we can do an L.A. Christmas,” Cass had once suggested, but now that she had taken over the bakery Miguel knew she couldn’t be away from Starlight Peak on Christmas Eve until the day she retired. He had officially moved in with Cass the month before, after finally getting the job he had been hoping for at the nearby hospital. Cass said she hoped by next year they would have found the perfect house, too, with room to host both of their families.
As Cass, Miguel and his parents settled in the living room with their ciders, Charlie brought a platter over for her dad to arrange the Woodburn Bakery desserts on. “Let me help you with those, Dad,” Charlie said.
“Thank you, my dear,” Thomas replied. “These sweet and salty bars are selling like crazy, Cass told me. And she’s added a cupcake this season that she said she created for your show last year . . . Something boozy, but I can’t quite—”
“Aperol Spritz cupcakes,” Charlie said, smiling with pride. “She’s on fire, I’m telling you.”
“A new era for the bakery,” Thomas said. “Exciting times ahead.”
They turned at the sound of a cane tapping against the floor, and then, “I believe that platter is missing one important element,” said a familiar voice.
“Faye! You know Cass would never let you down.” Charlie lifted a small box and opened the lid, revealing rows of lemon squares. Faye’s eyes twinkled as she lifted one out, took a bite, then whistled softly. Bonnie sprinted into the room and nearly knocked her over.
“Fool dog,” Faye said, fondly. Then, she whispered, “Don’t tell anyone.” Faye dropped her hand and allowed Bonnie to nibble the half-eaten square from her fingertips. Then, she took another square for herself. “Life is too short to wait for dessert,” she declared. “Now all that needs to happen is someone has to give me a great-grandchild who doesn’t have four legs—and then, my life will be complete.”