Glad Tidings: There's Something About Christmas / Here Comes Trouble

A fir wreath with pinecones and red bows hung in the kitchen window. “You should see my irises in the spring. I have them planted everywhere and the yard is full of color. Flowers, cats and chocolate fruitcakes are my passion. Harry and the boys, too, of course, but my husband is gone and my boys are living their own lives now. They don’t need me the way they once did.” She unlocked the back door and brought Emma into the oversize family kitchen. Three cats meowed as they entered. “These are Huey, Duey and Louey. They’re the house cats. They’re spoiled, ill-mannered and don’t take kindly to strangers or dogs, so you’ll have to forgive them.”

Emma petted one, who instantly scooted into another room.

“This is the problem with living alone,” Sophie said as she filled the kettle and placed it on the stove. “It’s just me and the cats and we have certain ways of doing things.”

“That’s understandable.”

Sophie walked into the dining room and returned with a large teapot. “I reserve this one for special company,” she said as she measured out tea leaves. Motioning toward the table, she added, “Make yourself comfortable. Just pull out the chair if there’s a cat in it and he’ll move.”

“All right.” Sure enough, a large tabby was nestled on the seat cushion. As soon as Emma drew out the chair, the cat stretched and yawned and grudgingly vacated the seat.

“Here, let me brush away the cat hairs.” Sophie brought over a whisk broom and swept off the cushion.

“Thank you.” Emma sat down at the table, which was cluttered with magazines, newspapers, mail and sales flyers.

Sophie glanced at the wall-mounted clock. “Do you mind if I turn on the radio for a few minutes? It’s bingo.”

“Ah … sure.” Bingo over the radio? Emma had never heard of such a thing.

The radio was on the table, too, next to an aged photograph of a young man in uniform. Harry, Emma guessed. His widow was right; he’d been a handsome man. Other pictures caught her attention—framed photographs of two families. Emma assumed they were Sophie’s two sons and their wives and kids.

Her hostess turned on the radio, sat down and lined up her bingo cards in neat rows. Her timing was perfect. She reached for a round blotter pen and waited for the numbers to be called. Her eyes darted back and forth over the cards after each number was announced. Radio bingo was followed by the farm report, which Sophie immediately switched off.

“Sorry about that, but I’m on a winning streak. I’ve won two weeks in a row,” she told her proudly as the kettle on the stove started to whistle. “My friends say I’m lucky, and it’s true.”

“I’ve never heard of radio bingo.”

“You haven’t?” Sophie shook her head as if this was a real shame. “The local merchants sponsor it. When you bingo, you call it in to the station and then take your card to the participating merchant for your prize.”

“What did you win?” Emma asked, curious now.

“Five dollars off my next haircut at Venus de Milo Beauty Salon, and the week before, it was buy one, get one free at the A & W Drive-In. If you were going to be in town longer and it wasn’t so cold, I’d take you down for one of their root beer floats.”

Emma smiled appreciatively as Sophie poured the tea and brought out a dark wrapped loaf from the refrigerator.

“I thought you might want to try my chocolate fruitcake.”

“Uh, sure …”

“You’ll be surprised—pleasantly so,” Sophie told her. Within minutes, she brought two cups of tea and a plate of the most unusual-looking fruitcake Emma had ever seen.

“Taste it,” the woman urged.

Emma helped herself to a slice, unsure what to expect. The flavors came alive in her mouth and she widened her eyes. Sophie hadn’t exaggerated. This was incredibly good. “Is that pineapple I taste?”

“Yup, and coconut, too.”

“Oh, this is wonderful.” Emma took another bite and licked her fingers when she’d finished. For the second time, her preconceptions and prejudices about something—fruitcake—had been tested.

“I use lots of nuts. Harry was wild about pecans. My own favorite is walnuts. Do you realize how good nuts are for you?” she asked conversationally. “Just think about it. Inside each nut is the potential for an entire tree. They’re packed full of nutrition. A lot of people are concerned about the fat content, but nuts have good fat, not bad fat.”

Emma smiled. Being with Sophie was such a delight that she was having a hard time remembering to take notes. “How did you come up with the recipe?”

“That’s the most interesting part,” she said, joining her at the table once more. “The first year Harry and I were married, I wanted to make fruitcake at Christmas. My mother always had, and I wanted to be a good wife and homemaker, just like her. Harry told me he hated fruitcake and furthermore he didn’t want me wasting money on ingredients for a cake he wouldn’t even eat. This was toward the end of the Depression, when money was still scarce. I told him he was being selfish and mean, and I burst into tears.” She paused and sipped her tea.

“You see, to me, Christmas was fruitcake. It felt as if Harry had asked me to give up my favorite holiday. That was our first big fight. Telling me I couldn’t bake that fruitcake was like telling me we couldn’t afford Christmas.”

As far as this Christmas thing went, Emma’s sympathies were with Harry.

“The next morning,” Sophie continued, “Harry said if it meant that much to me, I should go ahead and do whatever I wanted. So I baked fruitcake, but I used the ingredients I knew Harry liked best. When I told him what I’d done, he put his arms around me and said it wasn’t any wonder he loved me as much as he did. Harry had a real sweet tooth, especially for good chocolate.”

“You used the ingredients he liked?” Emma thought that was a clever compromise.

“I admit chocolate fruitcake isn’t run-of-the-mill fruitcake, but that’s what got me into the finals, don’t you think? I can only imagine how many recipes they received. Mine was different, and I have my Harry to thank for that.”