The Lopsided Christmas Cake (15 page)

Thelma had put the cake in the oven when she heard the rumble of a vehicle coming up the driveway. “Someone’s here,” she called to Elma, who had gone to the living room to gather up some throw rugs. Since they’d been letting Tiger in every night, Elma shook the rugs every morning as soon as they put the cat outside, saying that he’d left cat hair behind.

When her sister made no response, Thelma closed the oven door and went to the kitchen window to look out. A delivery truck was coming up the driveway, and when it passed the house, she realized it must be heading for the store.

Cupping her hands around her mouth, she hollered a little louder. “It’s a delivery truck, Elma—probably bringing some of the things we ordered for the store. I’m going out there to open the store and tell the driver where to set the boxes. Could you check on the cake while I’m gone?”

Elma mumbled something, so Thelma figured she must have understood what she’d said. Grabbing a sweater from the back of her kitchen chair, Thelma dashed out the back door. She’d only made it as far as the barn when she realized that her half-slip was sliding down her legs. “Oh, my!” Quickly, she opened the barn door and stepped inside. “Now wouldn’t that have been embarrassing if my slip had done that when I got to the store? Or I could have tripped on it coming across the yard.” She pulled the slip back in place. Thelma couldn’t figure out why that had happened. She’d never had one of her slips fall off before.
Maybe I’ve lost some weight since moving here. I’d better try to eat a little more, and for sure, I’ll need to take in the waistband on my slip so that doesn’t happen again.

Continuing on to the store, walking a little slower this time, Thelma made sure to keep her hands pressed firmly against her waist. When she got back to the house, she’d either look for a slip that fit better or pin this one so it was a bit tighter.

When Thelma got to the store, the delivery truck was parked near the basement door. She waved to the driver and shouted, “I’ll unlock the door and let you in.”

“No problem,” the young English man hollered back.

After Thelma unlocked the door, she told him to bring the boxes inside. “You can stack them over there.” She motioned to a corner of the basement where some empty cardboard boxes sat.

While the delivery man brought in the boxes, Thelma stood off to one side so she wouldn’t be in his way. Since she wasn’t walking, she felt certain that her slip would stay in place.

“Do you have a restroom I can use?” the man asked. “I drank too much coffee this morning.”

Thelma motioned to the steps leading to the main part of the store. “There’s a bathroom upstairs.”

“Okay, thanks.” He started for the stairs but paused. “Oh, there’s one more box on my truck. I’ll get it as soon as I’m done in the restroom.”

“That’s okay,” Thelma was quick to say. “I’ll go out and get it.”

“Are you sure? I mean—”

“It’s no problem at all.”

When the man went upstairs, Thelma headed outside and climbed into the back of his truck. It didn’t take her long to spot the box that was theirs, because it was clearly marked. The only problem was she would have to move two boxes that were on top of it. That should be easy enough.

Boy was I ever wrong.
Thelma grunted as she struggled to pick up the box on top.
What in the world could be in here that’s making it so heavy?

When Elma stepped onto the back porch to shake the last rug, she spotted a delivery truck parked near the basement entrance of the store.
I’d better go let him in.
“Thelma,” she hollered, sticking her head through the open door, “I’m going out to the store to let the driver in.”

Hoping her sister had heard, Elma sprinted across the yard and up the path that led to the store. When she got there, she was surprised to see the door open.
Now that’s strange. I wonder if we left it open last night.

Stepping inside, she almost collided with a tall English man. “Oops, sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize you’d come back already.”

Elma tipped her head.
Come back from where? Does he mean come back from the house?
Before she could voice her thoughts, however, he handed her the shipping invoice and headed out the door. “I think that’s everything. See you next time.”

As he was getting in the truck, Elma glanced out the open door and gasped. There sat Thelma in the back of his truck, holding a box in her lap.

“Wait up!” Elma shouted, running out the door as the truck started pulling away. “My sister’s in the back of your truck!”

The truck kept moving, and Elma chased after it, waving and hollering for the driver to stop. He was about to pull out on the main road, when the truck came to a halt. The young man rolled down his window. “What’s going on? Did I forget one of your packages?”

“Not a package.” Elma pointed to the back of his truck. “My sister—she’s inside your truck. The young man hopped out and ran to the back. He looked at Thelma, whose face was red as a ripe cherry, then he looked back at Elma. “There are two of you?”

Elma nodded. “We’re twins.”

His brows furrowed as he turned back to Thelma. “What are you doing in my truck?”

“I told you I’d get the last package while you used the restroom, remember?”

He scratched the side of his head. “Oh, yeah, that’s right. When I came out of the restroom and saw the person I thought was you in the store, I figured you’d brought the package in.”

“It’s right here.” Thelma handed Elma the box. “It was under two other packages, but they were heavy, so I had a hard time getting it at first.”

“Don’t ever do that again,” he muttered. “From now on, I’ll take care of getting all the packages out of the truck. It’s actually company policy not to let anyone but the driver in the truck. If your sister hadn’t hollered for me to stop, you may have ended up in Michigan before the day was out, and then I would have been in a heap of trouble.”

“Sorry about that.” Wearing a sheepish expression, Thelma stepped down from the truck, holding the sides of her dress. She headed back to the house, while Elma took the box into the store.

When Thelma opened the door to the house, she was greeted by a haze of smoke. “What’s going on?” It didn’t take her long to realize the smoke was coming from the kitchen.

Coughing, while covering her nose with her hands, she raced into the room. Seeing smoke billowing from the stove, she jerked the oven door open. “Oh no!” The cake in the pans looked like two blobs of charcoal.

Thelma grabbed two pot holders and removed the pans then carried them out to the porch. After resting them on the pot holders on the porch floor, she raced back inside and opened all the downstairs windows. When she went back outside, Elma was walking toward the house.

“What happened?” Elma asked, pointing to the cake pans.

“The cake is ruined. The layers were left in the oven too long. Didn’t you check on them like I asked you?”

Elma’s brows furrowed. “When was that?”

“Before I went out to the store to let the delivery man in.” Thelma folded her arms. “I told you I was going and asked you to check on the cake.”

Elma groaned. “I was singing while gathering the rugs. Guess I didn’t hear you. Then when I took the rugs outside to shake them and realized a delivery truck was waiting at the store, I hollered at you so you’d know I was going. I assumed you’d be checking on the cake and taking it out of the oven when it was done.”

“Well, I guess you didn’t hear me, and I certainly didn’t hear you, because I was already at the store.”

Elma sank into one of the wicker chairs on the porch. “If we try to make that cake again, I fear something else may happen. Participating in the cooking show is not a good idea, Sister. Is there any way we can get out of it?”

Thelma shook her head determinedly. “And let the community down? No way! We’re gonna make that cake, and it will turn out fine.”

I
really wish we weren’t obligated to do that cooking show tomorrow,” Elma said as her sister took out the ingredients for Grandma’s Christmas cake. “We had a busy day at the store, and I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open, let alone stay awake long enough to bake a cake.”

“Why don’t you go up to bed, while I bake the cake?” Thelma suggested.

Elma yawned. “Are you sure about that? I wouldn’t feel right about leaving you down here by yourself with that old thing.” She gestured to the woodstove. “Remember what happened the last time we used the oven to do a trial run on this cake. Plus, the kitchen took awhile to air out from that burnt smell. If that happens again, we sure couldn’t take a coal-black cake to the cooking show to be auctioned.”

“I’ll be fine,” Thelma said. “I know better than to leave the room while the cake is baking. I’ll sit out here in the kitchen and get some knitting done till the cake is ready to come out of the oven.”

Still feeling a bit hesitant, Elma smiled and said, “Okay. Danki, Sister.”

Thelma gave Elma a hug. “Sleep well, and I’ll see you in the morning. We have a big day ahead of us, but I’m sure it’ll be fun and rewarding.”

Elma wasn’t sure about the fun part, but she knew that a charity event such as this was important. She hoped she wasn’t doing the wrong thing by going to bed early and leaving Thelma to bake the cake by herself.

Thelma was excited about making Grandma’s Christmas cake. In addition to the cake itself, two flavors of Jell-O
^™
would be used for the filling, with whipped topping and cream cheese for the frosting.

Humming to herself, she followed the directions in Grandma’s recipe book then greased the bottom of two nine-inch round pans. “This will be a piece of cake,” she murmured, grinning at her pun.

The directions said to bake the cake at 350 degrees for thirty to thirty-five minutes or until done. For the woodstove, that meant she didn’t want the oven to get too hot. Placing the cake pans carefully into the oven, Thelma closed the door, set the wind-up timer, and took a seat at the table with a cup of tea and her knitting project. When her folks were visiting, she’d kept her knitting needles and yarn in her room so Mom wouldn’t see the gloves she was making for Christmas.

Sure hope our folks can come here for Christmas,
Thelma thought as her needles began clicking. She paused for a sip of tea.
I wonder what it’ll be like if Elma and I have to spend the holiday alone?
In all the twins’ thirty-two years, they’d never been away from their parents for Christmas. It had been so wonderful having them here. As Thelma sat in the quietness of the kitchen, it felt abnormally empty.

The sweet scent of vanilla tickled Thelma’s nose as the cakes continued baking. The aroma made her think of Christmas. She reflected on all the Christmases they’d come here to spend with Grandma and Grandpa. The same cake recipe and this old oven were working together once again.

Thelma’s gaze settled on the kitchen cupboards. She was glad Dad had been able to put handles on the ones that had been missing. It not only looked better, but it was easier to open the doors, too.

Wondering if Grandma had ever sat here sewing while waiting for something in the oven to finish, Thelma resumed knitting. Pretty soon, the timer went off. Grasping one of the oven mitts she’d set out, Thelma opened the oven door and poked a toothpick into each of the cake pans. It came out clean both times, so she was sure they were done. Best of all, neither looked overly brown.
Whew! That’s a relief! I’ll bet Grandma would be proud of me, and so would Mom.

She grabbed the other mitt and removed the hot pans from the oven, placing each on its own cooling rack. Then, before she went back to her knitting, Thelma stood over the cakes and inhaled deeply as the steamy aroma rose from both pans. The whole kitchen smelled like Grandma’s Christmas cake. Thelma figured any minute now, Elma would appear, since the cake’s inviting smell seemed to be wafting through the house.

Thelma tilted her head, waiting to hear footsteps coming down the stairs. No sign of Elma, though.
She must be in a sound sleep.

Half an hour later, Thelma checked the cake pans. They were still slightly warm, but she figured it would be okay to add the Jell-O now. After poking several holes in the first one, she mixed the red Jell-O and carefully spooned the crimson liquid over the top. Then she did the same with the other cake, spooning the warm green Jell-O over that half. When that was done, she covered both cakes with plastic wrap and set them in the refrigerator to cool more thoroughly. The recipe said the cakes should be refrigerated overnight or for a few hours.