Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Natalie hung up her coat, her shoulders sagging as she leaned against the door of her small apartment. The cozy space above her parents' bakery had always been her sanctuary, but lately, it felt more like a reminder of all that was at stake.
She kicked off her shoes and padded across the worn hardwood floors, her fingers trailing along the back of the armchair she'd found at a thrift store.
The twinkling lights of her modest Christmas tree cast a warm glow over the room, but the acrid smell of smoke still lingered faintly in the air, a constant reminder of the fire that had nearly destroyed everything her family had worked for.
Nat's apartment had escaped the worst of the damage, but the bakery below hadn't been so lucky.
She stripped off her work clothes and headed for the shower.
The hot water soothed her tense muscles, and she tried to let the stress of the day wash away with the soap suds.
But thoughts of Ms. Holloway and her icy demeanor kept creeping back in, along with worries about her family's financial situation.
After her shower, Nat pulled on her favorite oversized sweater and a pair of well-worn leggings. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and shot herself a small smile. "Come on, Nat," she whispered to her reflection. "You've got this. It's just two weeks."
The familiar creaking of the stairs alerted her to someone's approach, and a moment later, there was a soft knock at her door. "Nat? You home, honey?" her mother's voice called out.
"Yeah, Mom. Just a sec!" Nat called back, quickly running a brush through her damp hair before opening the door.
Martha Bergman stood there, still wearing the apron she'd been using to bake cookies all day. The lines around her eyes seemed deeper than usual, and Nat felt a pang of guilt. Her mother shouldn't have to work so hard at her age.
"We're all gathered in the living room," she said, giving Nat a warm smile. "Thought you might want to join us for a bit before bed."
Nat nodded, following her mother downstairs to the house next door to the bakery. Her father, Robert, was slouched in his favorite armchair, looking exhausted. Her sixteen-year-old sister, Zoe, was curled up on the couch, phone in hand as always.
"There she is!" her father said, his face lighting up as Nat entered the room. "How was the big day, sweetheart? Your mother told me there was only one guest?"
Nat hesitated, not wanting to dampen the mood further.
But her family was looking at her expectantly, and she knew she couldn't hide the truth.
"Yeah," she began, sinking onto the couch next to Zoe, “there was only one arrival.
Ms. Holloway. I think her name is Sofia if I remember correctly from the paperwork. "
"What?" Zoe looked up from her phone. "The whole huge chalet for one person?"
Nat nodded. "Yep. Just her and she doesn’t want any fuss or service, so I don’t expect much of a tip this time."
Her father leaned forward in his chair. "Is she nice, at least?"
Nat let out a humorless chuckle. "Nice isn't exactly the word I'd use. She's... well, she's pretty cold, to be honest. And she made it clear she doesn't want much interaction."
Martha's face fell. "Oh, honey. I'm so sorry."
"It's okay, Mom," Nat said quickly, not wanting her parents to worry more than they already were. "It's just two weeks. I can handle it."
"Are you sure?" Martha pressed. "You shouldn't have to deal with difficult people, especially over Christmas."
"No," Nat said firmly. "I want to do this and anyway, I can’t back out now..." she trailed off, not wanting to reveal the real reason she'd taken the job.
"Well, I suppose you can’t.” Her mother rubbed her shoulder. Have you eaten? There's some dinner in the kitchen if you're hungry."
"Thanks, Mom, but I already ate at the chalet," Nat replied. "There wasn't much else to do, so I had an early dinner while Ms. Holloway was out skiing."
"Speaking of Ms. Holloway," Zoe piped up, her thumbs flying across her phone screen. "Is this her?"
Nat leaned over to look at her sister's phone. There on the screen was a photo of Ms. Holloway, looking far more relaxed and approachable than Nat had seen her. She was smiling at the camera, her dark hair styled to perfection, wearing a black blazer.
"Yeah, that's her," Nat confirmed. "Where did you find that?"
Zoe grinned, clearly pleased with herself. "She’s easy to find. Turns out, she's kind of a big deal. She's the founder of this super popular investment app. She’s like, crazy wealthy."
"Really?" Robert peered at the phone. "Huh. No wonder she can afford to rent out the whole chalet for herself."
"Well, money doesn't buy happiness," Martha said. "Or manners, apparently."
A heavy silence fell over the room, and Nat could feel the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on her.
The struggle of the past few months hung in the air like a thick fog - her father working himself to the bone trying to renovate the bakery, her mother baking cookies in their tiny kitchen to sell at the local market, just to make ends meet.
And here was Nat, trying desperately to contribute, to be the responsible oldest child and to help her family get back on their feet.
They didn’t know she’d taken this job for them; they’d never allow her to sacrifice her Christmas for the bakery.
In fact, her mother hadn’t liked the idea of Nat working over Christmas at all, but Nat had told her she was saving up for something special.
It was a vague explanation at best. In reality, that ‘something special’ was a new bread oven for the bakery.
Since the insurance refused to pay out, she wanted to help them raise the final twelve thousand dollars for the industrial oven that would not only get the business back up and running, but with the latest technologies, it would also make her parent’s lives easier going forward.
"Hey," Zoe said, nudging Nat with her elbow. "Want to help me wrap some presents? I still have a few to do." She pointed at the dining table covered in rolls of wrapping paper and ribbon. “Hot chocolate and wrapping should cheer you up; it always does.”
"Sure." Nat smiled at her sister and followed her to the dining table. With thirteen years between them, Nat had always mothered over her, but things were slowly changing. Zoe was growing up and at the age where they could have real conversations now.
For years, living in their cramped two-bedroom house, Nat had longed for her own space. Sharing a room with a baby sister hadn't been easy, and she'd jumped at the chance to move into the apartment above the bakery. But now, she cherished these moments with Zoe.
Their mother set down two steaming mugs of hot cocoa on the table. "Here you go, girls," she said. Then, turning to Nat, she added, "Or would you prefer a glass of red wine? We have a nice one open."
Nat shook her head. "Best not. I've got a headache coming on, and I need to be at the chalet by eight tomorrow morning to prepare breakfast."
"Ooh, I'll have a glass of wine!" Zoe piped up, her eyes sparkling mischievously.
Martha fixed her younger daughter with an amused look. "Nice try, young lady."
Zoe's shoulders slumped dramatically. "Come on, Mom. I'm sixteen! Surely I'm allowed to have a drink by now? All my friends are allowed to drink at home.
"Oh really?" Martha raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. "What friends? Name me one friend who's allowed to drink."
Zoe grinned sheepishly, caught in her exaggeration. But never one to back down easily, she quipped, "Well, there's my good friend Imaginary Ian. He's quite the party animal."
The room erupted in laughter and Zoe simply shrugged. “Anyway, back to Sofia Holloway,” she said, carefully taping down a corner of shimmery paper. “Guess what else I found out about her?"
Nat raised an eyebrow. "What?"
Zoe leaned in conspiratorially, lowering her voice even though their parents were out of earshot. "She’s gay."
Nat blinked, surprised by this unexpected piece of information. "I don't believe you," she said, shaking her head. "And even if she was gay, what does it matter?"
"Well," Zoe drawled with a grin, "she's beautiful. And you're gay," she added teasingly.
Nat rolled her eyes, feeling a flush creep up her neck. "Cut it out, Zoe," she said, trying to keep her voice stern despite the smile tugging at her lips. "I don’t like her and she certainly doesn’t like me."
Zoe held up her hands in mock surrender, but her grin remained. "I'm just saying, it could make for an interesting two weeks. Maybe you'll thaw that ice queen's heart with your irresistible charm."