Grandmother slid the flour-dusted notebook across the wooden table. Carmen traced the faded words with her finger. "Today we bake a cake for the whole village," Grandmother said, tapping a picture of a golden round cake.
Grandmother slid the notebook across the table. Carmen traced the faded words with her finger. "Today we bake a cake for the whole village," Grandmother said, tapping a picture of a golden round cake.
Carmen cracked an egg — but it slipped and splatted on her nose. She froze, then giggled as Grandmother wiped it clean with a floured cloth.
Carmen measured the flour slowly, but a puff of white dust sneezed right out of her and she laughed until her shoulders shook.
She stirred the batter until it gleamed like thick honey, then poured it into the pan. The kitchen smelled of butter and lemon zest.
She opened the oven door — the cake had risen into a perfect wobbly dome, nearly touching the rack. Carmen gasped and grinned.
The timer rang like a bell. Grandmother set the wobbly cake on the table. "It's too beautiful to keep inside," she whispered. Carmen already reached for the cloth.
They carried the cake into the garden where villagers had gathered with plates and big smiles. Everyone stood beneath the flowering citrus trees.
They cut the first slice together. The sweet scent wrapped around everyone like a warm hug. The sun warmed their shoulders as laughter filled the flower-filled yard.
The whole village gathered under the blossoming trees. Carmen and Grandmother shared the first slice together, and everyone laughed as the sweet scent drifted through the garden.