To begin this story, go to PART 1
Melinda and I giggled as she began to pour the flour into a large blow. Mother would be so proud when she saw what a lovely cake we would make her!
“That looks like enough,” I said as I watched the last few puffs of flour fall onto the top of our white mountain.
“Good,” Melinda agreed. “Now, we need to add the salt, baking soda, and vanilla.” She thought for a moment. “Oh, yes, and some sugar.”
Quickly, I jumped up and grabbed the salt and sugar. Now, that was the first thing I did wrong. They do look a lot alike. I set them both down on the table then grabbed up the measuring cups and spoons.
“Okay, so we need four cups of sugar and three teaspoons of salt,” Melinda instructed.
Four cups of sugar, four cups of sugar, four cups of sugar, I reminded myself silently over and over. Taking up the measuring cup that read, “1 cup,” I pressed it into the sugar sack. One, two, three, and . . . four. Done with the sugar.
Well . . . so I thought. Three teaspoons of salt, three teaspoons of salt, three teaspoons of salt. “Okay, got it.”
Now, for those who know how to make a cake, you know you always read the labels on the sacks first and/or taste the contents if you’re not sure which is which. Melinda and I did neither. That was a dumb move. I watched as Melinda carefully stirred the white ingredients into one solid mixture.
“Now, we need to mix this with the wet ingredients,” Melinda grunted as she lifted up the heavy bowl. We added them all into a larger bowl and stirred them carefully. My arms became tired by the time we were almost finished.
Glancing up at my sister, I could tell she was hot and warn out too. Her once-perfectly pinned up hair now hung loose around her shoulders. Every so often she would remove a runaway pin and toss it on the counter. Poor Melinda.
“Okay.” She sighed deeply as we finished the stirring. “We need to put it into the pans now.” Sweat beaded her forehead as she brought over three large cake pans.
A long and low sigh escaped Nila. I looked up in time to see her and Luisa shake their heads at one another. They think we won’t be able to do this, I thought to myself. I was determined to show them that we were not to be messed with.
Once the cakes had been poured into the pans and placed in the oven, Melinda and I took a short rest.
* * *
“They look done,” Melinda said a short time later as we tapped them with our fingertips. The cakes were a nice, golden brown. We grabbed up some dishcloths, slid the cakes out of the oven, and placed them on the counter.
“Oh, that smells good!” I smiled. We had actually baked them! Ourselves!
“What an excellent job,” Melinda agreed, tossing down her dishcloth. “We need to make the icing now. Then we will be finished.”
“How do we make icing?” I asked, looking up at Melinda. She looked unsure herself.
“No se preocupe, Don’t worry,” Luisa called over to us. “I already made it.”
“Luisa! We wanted to do it ourselves, remember?” I could tell Melinda was upset. But that did give us one less thing to do. I tried to tell Melinda that, but she paid me no mind. Instead she took up Luisa’s frosting bowl and spoon and walked over to the table. She popped the cakes out of the pans, stacked them one on top of the other, and began to frost them with the pretty pink icing.
“Señorita Melinda,” Nila warned. “You must first—” She was stopped by Luisa’s warning look.
“They want to do it alone,” Luisa said with a nod at us.
Nila looked puzzled, then her face expression changed to an understanding smile.
Now, I was mad. I took up a spoon and began to apply the pink fluff to the cake. It didn’t take Melinda and me long to get the job done. We stood back to look at our masterpiece. It looked wonderful!
Luisa and Nila only smiled when we told them we wanted it to be brought out at dinner. At the time, I thought they were impressed. Yeah? No.
Continue to PART 3