Chapter 2 #2
Andrea cringed at the reminder of the date.
The sixteenth marked the deadline for her third extension on the submission for her third cookbook.
She didn’t think she’d mentioned the specific date to Paige, and chalked it up as a coincidence, or perhaps something else.
Kismet? Fate? Was it a sign of some kind?
She took a long moment, her mind pinging back and forth like a pinball stuck between the flippers, before she finally nodded. “Okay. Fine. You get Dottie back on board, and I’ll take a step back.”
Paige smiled like she’d won some kind of trophy. “I’ll call you as soon as I wrap up at Plum Peacock.”
Andrea was less than ten minutes into her third attempt at watching a holiday rom-com all the way to the end when her phone buzzed against the cushion wedged in between her and the arm of the couch.
At the sound, her dog, a Jack Russell Terrier named Crumpet, lifted his head from his favorite throw pillow.
“It’s probably Paige,” Andrea told the dog as she swiped the phone screen to open the notification. And in the moment it took to load, she realized she wasn’t sure what she wanted the message to say.
Of course she wanted to keep Dottie’s account, and part of her had little doubt that the sample basket would be more than enough to keep the woman firmly planted in the bakery’s client list. But if Paige’s method proved successful, it would mean either going back on her word, or following through on the agreement to take the two weeks off.
The text opened and Paige proclaimed Andrea’s future:
Change your email status to “out of the office” because you’re on vacation. See you on the 16th.
Andrea tapped out a reply:
Good job with Dottie. Thanks for handling that. I promise to stay out of the bakery, but I’m not turning off my emails.
Paige added a laughing emoji to Andrea’s reply, and the conversation ended.
Andrea tossed the phone back onto the couch and hit play on the remote.
A snowy mountain scene panned across the screen, a swelling, heartfelt musical score playing along, and Andrea looked over at Crumpet.
“Looks like you’re stuck with me, boy. No doggy daycare for you. ”
Crumpet wagged his short curled tail.
Andrea reached over and ruffled his ears, her attention still snagged halfway on the overhead scan of the snowy landscape on the TV screen. “Snow might be nice, huh? What do you think, Crumpy, should we get out of the city for a little while?”
Crumpet looked up at her and tilted his head.
“Don’t worry, I promise not to fall in love with a Christmas tree farmer,” she teased. “As long as you promise not to fall for a sheepdog.”
The movie continued to play through to the credits, but Andrea missed much of the third act as she turned her attention to scouring the internet for the perfect destination.
Unfortunately, that was easier said than done, so close to the holidays, especially as she would require a dog-friendly rental with a full kitchen if she was going to be able to make any headway on her cookbook recipes.
Which, judging by the pile of scattered notes across the ottoman under her feet, was a big if.
After a few searches, the sidebar on her unlocked magic browser began showing ads for magic-friendly vacation swaps. The home featured on the ad was a cozy cottage, with snow and Christmas lights, set against a dense evergreen forest.
Suddenly, Andrea had visions of cocoa with jumbo marshmallows, a crackling fire, and the peaceful quiet that came after a fresh snowfall. Her cursor scrolled across the screen and she clicked.
“A vacation swap,” she repeated as she read over the front page of the rental management’s home page. “Hmm.”
“Only for witches,” she continued, still skimming.
“So, wait, we would take their house, and they would come here?” She paused and settled against the couch, glancing over at Crumpet, as if he could confirm or explain.
“It’s not a bad idea, I guess. Someone would be here to look after the place, at least. Her home was in a gated community, so security wasn’t a huge concern, but still, having someone around to keep an eye on things—to check the mail and oversee the various service providers who would come and go about their normal business—would be a plus.
Along the bottom, a carousel of available rentals scrolled by, and while she didn’t see the cottage from the ad, she found a cluster of townhouses with a Bavarian flair, their exteriors showcasing ornate scrollwork on the shutters and trim, and colorful flower boxes under each window.
The row of homes stood against a wooded background, with snow-covered mountains in the distance.
She slid another sidelong look at Crumpet. “Worth a look?”
He wagged his tail.
Smiling, she opened the full details and scanned the amenities and some details about the location. “Maple Crossing, Vermont, huh? I’ve never been to Vermont before, but it looks gorgeous. As long as someone else is responsible for plowing the snow.”
“Okay, okay, it’s pretty perfect, but there’s one thing we need to check out—” She opened the gallery of photos and found it: the kitchen.
It was likely one third of the size of her own kitchen, but there was enough counterspace, and a large garden window over a hammered bronze apron sink looked out at a snow-blanketed field and the hills beyond.
“I mean, I don’t hate it,” she told the patient terrier as he nosed in for a closer look. “And they have a KitchenAid mixer. Gas stove…”
The more she looked, the more she started to envision herself standing there at the window, a wine glass in hand, the smell of rum cake in the oven. Perhaps a deer or two would wander across the snow.
“Okay, Andi, rein it in,” she told herself with a soft chuckle.
Crumpet laid a paw atop her hand, a trick she’d taught him when he was still a puppy. In reality, he was telling her he wanted a strip of chicken jerky, but she took it as a sign that he, too, approved of the rental.
And if she needed a final cosmic nudge, a green bubble lit up at the bottom of the listing, notifying her that the homeowner was currently logged into the site, too.
She smiled, wondering who might be on the other side of the country, looking for their own winter escape.
Maybe they needed some Vitamin D and a trip to Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.
Before she could let her mind drift back to the terrifying idea of truly detaching, and leaving Paige to run things at the bakery, she clicked on the chat icon and introduced herself.
Hi, my name is Andrea Wickham, and I know this is completely last minute, but I was wondering if you might be interested in swapping houses for Christmas.
She sat back and reread her words to check for any embarrassing typos, then hit send.
To her surprise, a reply popped up a moment later: Hello, Andrea! I’m Marren Byrne. It’s nice to “meet” you. :) I’m actually looking for a Christmas getaway. Do you have a link to your listing? Where are you located?
Andrea blinked and quickly tapped out a reply: I just realized that I’m doing this completely out of order. I haven’t actually listed my place yet. This is all a little impulsive on my part. Could you do a video call? I can show you around my place and we could talk details?
She hit send and then glanced around the living room, checking to see if there was any embarrassing clutter that would need to be removed. With a sigh, she realized that in order for there to be clutter, she would need to spend more than a few hours in the room any given week.
As it was, the large room was softly lit by the fading daylight streaming through the wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, their heights stretching over twelve feet.
The long shafts of light fell across white oak floors and the ornate area rug under the sectional sofa and low-profile coffee table.
A few throw pillows added pops of color to the space, in hues of peach and navy blue.
Framed photos sat on the console table that held the TV: one of her cutting the ribbon in front of Sunset Sweets, a few of her posed with other chefs she admired, a larger collection featuring Crumpet in various ages and settings.
Several blank spaces stood out, where other framed photos once sat. Those had gone into the mini bonfire.
Marren’s reply pinged and snapped Andrea back to attention.
A video call sounds great! I’m pretty new to this myself. I’ve never done a house swap before, but a coworker of mine did it this past summer and had a really lovely experience. And, to be honest, it’s the only way I might be able to afford a vacation, especially this time of year.
Andrea smiled. She wasn’t exactly on a budget—though, with the rush of canceled orders that morning, she might be wise to pinch a penny or two, and she didn’t even want to think about what would happen if she had to rescind her publishing contract and return the advance money.
Frowning, she shook her head and banished the thought, and instead typed out her phone number and hit send.
Marren’s call came in a few moments later and Andrea answered with a warm smile as a woman appeared.
She appeared to be in her thirties, with long chestnut curls that hung past her shoulders.
Her fair skin was unmarred and looked fresh, unlined, and with only the lightest touch of makeup.
Wide hazel eyes glistened from behind thick-rimmed glasses, though she quickly took them off and set them aside, leading Andrea to assume they were meant only for reading.
Marren smiled and waved, her smile growing. “Hello!”
She sat against a backdrop of a row of dark mahogany bookcases, the tops and sides carved with intricate flourishes. Each shelf was packed with books, most of which Andrea assumed had been printed long before either of them had been born.