Okay, I feel much more settled than I was yesterday. And yes I know I do this every time there is a Monday thrown out of whack. Wednesday I panic because it feels like the week has flown by and work like crazy only to wind up on Thursday realizing that I am actually on schedule and not running slow. So panic averted, let’s kick of Thursday shall we? You know, minus the freak outs…
Okay this one seems like it could be fun. It also seems like something I need to think through before I get into. For example why is she making the cake?
Thursday, May 26th: “What is it you have going on here?”
“What is it you have going on here?” he asked. He peered into the nearest of mixing bowls.
“That is cake batter,” Jemma said. She saw him stretch a finger forward getting ready to di[ in for a taste. “Don’t,” she cautioned.
He paused, finger still pointed towards the batter. “Why not?” he asked. There was an edge of whine to the tone.
“Because it’s not for you.” She said. She reached for the bowl and poured it into the greased pans. She scraped the silicone spatula around the bowl making sure most of the batter was gone. She left a few streaks in the bowl for him and handed him the bowl.
“You can lick that if you’d like.”
He frowned but took the bowl. He didn’t dip into the remaining batter. “Who are the cakes for then?”
“One cake, singular,” she corrected. “It’s a layer cake.” She turned away and moved the filled cake pans into the oven. She turned to the stove top and began emptying her bowls of fruit and sugar into the saucepan to make the jelly filling. She hoped he would accept the short answer and go away.
Her hopes were dashed. “So who is the cake for then?”
“I’m taking it to an event,” she said.
She didn’t turn around, instead concentrating on stirring the fruit slowly.
“I’ll get a piece though, right?” he asked.
Jemma remembered the last piece he took of a cake she made. It was composed of a little over half of the cake. “No,” she answered. “It isn’t for you.”
He huffed behind her but she ignored him. She heard the bowl land on the counter with a thuink and wondered if it actually cracked. He had done that before with her bakeware and she didn’t want to have to spend the money to replace it. He stomped out of the room and Gemma grit her teeth. She knew what was coming. Her step brother would complain to his mother about Gemma keeping cake from him. She would be accused of meanness, and probably some level of villany.
However at the moment, Gemma knew that she was safe. No one else was home and wouldn’t be for quite some time. She was certain Parker would take the opportunity to put together his case and come up with all sorts of other details so that when everyone returned home she would be forced to give in.
However, once the cakes were baked, Gemma planned on taking them and everything associated with them out of the house. She was making the jam while the cakes baked and then pouring it into a container to be taken away. She would wash the dishes, load the still warm cakes and be gone well before anyone returned home for Parker to complain to.
The fruit began to gel. She monitored it so that it reached the consistency she wanted. When it was ready she poured it into her container and moved the pot to the sink. As she washed it, she kept one ear out for Parker. She could hear him stomping around upstairs.
‘But that’s alright,’ she thought. He wanted her to hear him. He wanted her to know that he was angry enough to call retribution down on her head.
Dishes washed, she dried everything and put it back where it belonged, pleased to see nothing had been broken. She wiped down the sink and finished her tidy as the oven timer dinged. Wasting no time, she turned off the oven, loaded the hot pans into an insulated container and took everything out to her car, locking the back door behind her.
Ten til Midnight 