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The Lopsided Christmas Cake

Barbour Publishing, Inc.

Topeka, Indiana

Three days later

Standing in the front yard, while gazing at their grandparents' rambling old two-story house, all Elma Hochstetler could do was shake her head in disbelief. Glancing toward the road as their driver disappeared, Elma bit her lip. This is it. There's no going back.

Overcome with emotion, she turned to face Thelma. "I can't believe this place is really ours."

Holding the orange-and-white cat that had sauntered up to them, Thelma nodded.

Everything from the weeds choking out the garden to the sagging front porch and peeling paint spoke of one thing — work. The barn and other outbuildings were run-down, too. Since this was the first week of September, Elma knew they would have to get some of the outside chores done before the harsh winter set in.

How quiet it was. She hadn't noticed that before when they'd visited Grandpa and Grandma. Their grandparents' home was on a side road, with farms on both sides of it. The home across the street had a FOR SALE sign out front.

As they stepped onto the porch, Thelma paused and tipped her head. "Listen to the tinkle of Grandma's wind chimes."

Barely noticing the chimes, Elma pointed to the eaves above the porch. "Oh my. There's an ugly brown spider up there."

"It's nothing to worry about. I'll take care of it later." Thelma stroked the cat's head. "I think it'll be fun to fix this place up."

Elma shook her head. "Fun? You think all the effort it will take to get this place livable is going to be fun? I'd call it work. And some of it will take money we don't have."

"You're right, but we can have fun in the process." Thelma's exuberance was almost contagious. But then, even when the twins were children Thelma hadn't worried about things. "Free-spirited." That's what Dad called Thelma, while he'd labeled Elma as "the serious one." While the physically identical twins shared the same petite frame, blue eyes, and chestnut brown hair, their personalities didn't always mesh.

I suppose I am too serious, Elma thought ruefully. But someone has to stay focused. It takes organization to keep things running smoothly. If I followed my twin sister's path, we'd spend every day looking through rose-colored glasses.

Thelma released the cat and slipped her arm around Elma's waist. "We've always done everything together, right?"

Elma could only nod, watching a clump of cat hair float through the air.

"Together, we'll turn this place back into what it used to be before Grandma and Grandpa got too old to keep everything up."

Thelma smiled. "We'll make this a glicklich adventure."

Elma knew her sister had good intentions and was thinking positively. Even though the situation looked overwhelming, perhaps Thelma was right. "Jah, we'll make it successful," Elma said. "The first thing we should do is go grocery shopping, because I'm sure there's not much fresh food in Grandma's kitchen."

* * *

"I think we should've accepted Mom's offer to help us organize this place," Thelma said as she mopped the kitchen floor the following day.

"This is our project." After disposing of some out-of-date canned fruit and vegetables they'd found in a cupboard, Elma placed the empty jars in the sink. "Besides, Mom has plenty to do at home, taking care of the house and helping Dad at the store. They'll be coming here in a few weeks to visit. I want to surprise them with all we've gotten done."

Thelma grimaced. "They'll be surprised all right. Mom will wonder why we don't sell this place and move back home."

"Hey, where's that positive attitude you had yesterday? This is our home now," Elma reminded. "Grandma and Grandpa's store is our only source of income." She opened another jar and dumped the contents into the garbage can. "Can you believe all the green beans Grandma canned two summers ago? It's a shame to waste all this food."

"It is a waste, but it's not safe to eat something that old." Thelma plugged her nose. "Smell that musty odor?" She drew the curtain aside that hid the items under the sink. "Uh-oh. It looks like the pipe's been leaking for some time. Grandma must have tied this old thin rag around it to stifle the dripping. Eww ... it's soaking wet." Thelma rubbed her hands over her apron and pointed to something else. "There's a coffee can under the pipe to catch the water. It's nearly full."

"You'd better dump it. We should get that fixed as soon as possible, but for now we should find a thicker piece of material to secure around the leak." Elma pushed her dress sleeves up. "I've started a list of things that need to be done. It would be good if you started a list, too, in case I miss anything."

Thelma scrunched her nose. "Oh no. Not more lists!"

"They do help when there's so much to be done."

"I suppose. One thing I know we need to do is paint." Thelma gestured to the wall behind the woodstove. It was coated with soot.

"You're right," Elma agreed. "I think most of the rooms in this house could use some paint. That alone will help to spruce things up."

Thelma pushed a piece of her hair back under the black scarf covering her bun. Then she gestured to the missing handles on a few of the cupboard doors. "The whole place seems to be falling apart. Didn't Grandpa fix anything?"

"He and Grandma were old. Their health was slipping before the accident." Elma spoke in a quieter tone, tears welling in her eyes. "I think it was too much for him to keep up."

"You're probably right," Thelma agreed, "but wouldn't you think they would have sold the place and moved to Sullivan to be closer to family?"

"Remember, Dad tried to talk them into moving." Elma rinsed another jar. "But our grandparents were too independent to budge. They would probably still be running their store if the accident hadn't happened. Besides, it can't be easy selling the home you've always known." Tears clung to her lashes. She would miss seeing them. Grandpa told funny jokes. Grandma knew how to cook better than anyone and always had a delicious treat waiting whenever the twins came to visit.

Unfortunately, due to how busy they'd been at their folks' store, the twins hadn't made a trip to see their grandparents for two years. That saddened Elma, because she and Thelma hadn't been able to see Grandma and Grandpa before they'd died. But knowing they'd been entrusted with this old house and the store fueled her determination to make a go of it.

"Guess I can't blame Grandma and Grandpa for staying put," Thelma admitted. "This place was special to them. It was their home for as long as I can remember." She pushed the mop under the table. "It's hard for older people to lose their independence and rely on others." She sighed. "I don't look forward to getting old."

"Try not to worry about aging," Elma said. "Let's take one day at a time and try to —"

"Enjoy the moments we have on earth." Thelma finished her sister's sentence and set the mop aside. "I don't know about you, but I'm tired of working. With all the organizing and de-cluttering, we'll never find time to do anything fun."

Elma flapped her hand. "Oh, sure we will. The holidays will be coming soon. There'll be all sorts of fun things to do."

"Like what?"

"We can go Christmas caroling. If we get enough snow, we can get that old sleigh out of Grandpa's barn."

Thelma perked up. "A sleigh ride sounds fun. We can put bells on the horse's harness, and sing Christmas songs, like Grandpa used to do when we were little."

"Don't forget the holiday baking we'll get to do," Elma put in. "We can make Grandma's special Christmas cake — you know, the one she used to fix whenever we came to visit during the holidays."

"I've always liked that special cake with Jell-O in it." Thelma gestured to the woodstove across the room. "If we have to use that old relic, everything we make will probably flop. Besides, I'm not the world's best baker."

"We can't afford to buy a propane-operated stove right now. We'll make the best of what we have." Elma had removed another jar from the cupboard when she spotted a little gray mouse skittering across the floor. Startled, she loosened her grip on the jar, sending it crashing to the floor. "Ach! Did you see that?"

"See what?"

Elma dashed into the utility room, grabbing the broom. Instead of cleaning the mess, she shoved it under the stove, swishing it back and forth.

"What are you doing, and what did you see?"

"There's a maus in here! Didn't you see it?"

"No, I didn't, and you won't get it with that. We need to bring in one of the katze. Grandpa always said his cats were good mousers."

Elma grimaced. "You know I don't like katze in the house."

"Would you rather have a maus?"

Elma shook her head vigorously. "They're ekelhaft little creatures."

"If you think they're disgusting, then let me bring in a cat."

"Okay." Elma grabbed a dustpan. She swept up the broken glass and beans. "After he gets the maus, make sure he goes outside."

* * *

When Thelma stepped outside, she spotted one of the cats curled in a ball on the saggy porch. "Come with me, Tiger." She bent down and picked up the cat. "You have a job to do in the kitchen. I'll bet you'll appreciate the meal." Even though one of the neighbors had been feeding the animals since her grandparents had died, this cat looked scrawny.

Meow! Tiger opened his eyes, looking at Thelma as if to say, "Why'd you wake me?"

Thelma took the cat inside and set him on the floor near the stove. "Get the mouse, boy!"

Elma's gaze went to the ceiling. "You think he's gonna listen to you?"

"Tiger may not understand what I said, but if that mouse moves, the cat will spring into action." Thelma stood back with her arms folded, waiting to see what would happen.

"Tiger?"

"Jah. That's what I named him because of his color. I think it fits. Don't you?"

"I guess so."

Tiger sat a few seconds then turned toward a moth that had flown into the room. Thelma ducked. She'd never cared much for moths, especially when they flew toward her face. Tiger took off in good form, heading for his prey that now hovered over the bucket of ashes near the stove. The cat leaped into the air and upset the container.

"Die katz laaft im esch!" Elma shouted.

Thelma groaned. Her sister was right — Tiger walked in the cinders and had caught his airborne snack. She knew if she didn't get him quick, he'd be tracking the mess all over her clean floor.

Thelma dashed across the room, but when she was about to grab the cat, the mouse shot out from under the stove. Elma shrieked and jumped on a chair. Dropping the moth, Tiger chased the mouse. Thelma raced for the door. Jerking it open, she was relieved when the mouse made its escape. Tiger followed. Slamming the door, she turned to face her sister. "You can come down now. It's safe."

"For now, anyway," Elma muttered, stepping down from the chair. "If there's one maus in the house, there's bound to be more. What if there's a whole family of them?"

"Maybe I should bring Tiger back in," Thelma suggested.

Elma shook her head. "Not now. I think we've done enough here this morning. Let's finish cleaning this mess. Then we can fix lunch. When we're done eating, we can head over to the store to see what needs to be done there."

When they'd finished cleaning the floor, Elma stepped out of the room and came back with a notebook. "Here's the list I started. I'll make another one when we go out to the store."

"Pretty soon we'll have so many lists you won't know which one to look at," Thelma teased; then she got serious. "Do you think we should hire someone to help us in the store? That would give us more time to do some other things around here."

Elma shook her head. "Maybe later. Right now we can't afford to hire anyone." She opened the refrigerator, glad they'd had time yesterday to pick up a few things at the grocery store. "What kind of sandwich would you like — ham or bologna?"

Thelma shrugged. "I don't care. You choose."

Elma took out the packages of lunch meat. "I'm hungry enough to eat two sandwiches, so let's have both."

"Sounds good to me." Thelma got out the bread.

Elma placed the lunch meat on the counter and opened the packages. "You know, Thelma, I've been thinking that it's good for us to be on our own. After all, we're not kinner anymore. We need to prove to ourselves, and also to Mom and Dad, that we can make a go of things."

"You're right." Thelma gave Elma's arm a tender squeeze. "With the Lord's help, we can handle most anything."

I wonder if we'll ever get this yard in shape." Elma kicked some scattered leaves as they walked past a dead bush. "There's so much to do here; I feel overwhelmed by it all."

Thelma clasped her sister's arm. "Don't worry so much. It'll get done in good time."

"I hope so, but that's our first priority." Elma motioned to the general store, several feet behind the house. According to Grandpa, with the help of his friends, he built the store a few years after he and Grandma were married.

When Thelma heard chickens clucking, she glanced to the left. "I just remembered, we didn't check for eggs last night. Think I'd better do that right now."

"Go ahead. I'll head over to the store and start organizing some of the shelves." Elma took a few steps in that direction but turned around. "Don't be long. There's lots of work, and it's going to take both of us."

"Don't worry. It won't take much time to gather a few eggs. I'll join you shortly."

After Elma walked away, Thelma headed for the chicken coop. My sister worries too much. People shopped at Grandpa and Grandma's store when it wasn't perfectly organized. If we don't have everything just so, I'm sure it won't affect our business.

Thelma thought about her folks' store back home and how, between Mom and Elma, everything was kept neat and tidy. One or both of them seemed to be constantly cleaning and organizing. Thelma had never enjoyed cleaning that much. Organizing was definitely not her thing. She'd rather wait on customers so she could visit.

When Thelma opened the door to the coop, she was greeted by several cackling hens. She remembered collecting eggs with Grandpa when she was a little girl. He would talk about a few of his favorite chickens and had even given them names.

Thelma fed the chickens first and gave them fresh water. When that was done, she grabbed a basket and filled it with eggs. It was fun to see the different colors. Not all the chickens were the same, and not all of the eggs were white. Some hens laid eggs in various colors. She was surprised to see any eggs at all, since one of Grandma's neighbors had been taking care of the animals. Perhaps, since they knew Thelma and Elma would arrive yesterday, they hadn't collected any more eggs.

Thelma hummed, reaching under a stubborn hen that wouldn't move off its nest. Bawk! Bawk! The chicken ruffled her feathers and hopped to the floor, looking back at Thelma as if to say, "How dare you steal my egg."

Thelma looked out the small window facing the corral. She saw Rusty, the horse Grandpa bought a few months before he died. His old horse, Cutter, had been pulling their rig the day of the accident and was killed. That left only Rusty available to the twins. Unfortunately, he was still a bit green and would be a challenge. One more problem, she thought.

Satisfied that she'd gotten all the eggs, Thelma moved toward the door. "Oh, great," she chided herself when she realized that she'd left it open. "Sure hope none of the chickens got out."

Thelma's brows furrowed as she stepped outside and saw chickens roaming all over the yard. "Good grief! Now I have chickens to round up."

She set the basket on the ground and moved toward the nearest chicken. Apparently, the hen didn't want to be caught, because it took off like a flash. The other chickens scattered, too.

The chickens really didn't need to be in the coop all day. She'd wait until nightfall, when they would be subject to predators, to put the birds back in their coop. They'd be easier to catch when it started getting dark, and she'd have Elma's help.

Thelma grabbed the basket and hurried into the house. She took care of the eggs first then paused for a drink of water. After working in the kitchen most of the morning, Thelma was tired. Too bad Elma wanted to work at the store right now. Thelma wanted to sit outside and work on the gloves she'd begun knitting for Mom's Christmas gift.

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Excerpted from The Lopsided Christmas Cake by Wanda E. Brunstet. Copyright © 2015 Wanda E. Brunstetter and Jean Brunstetter. Excerpted by permission of Barbour Publishing, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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