Christmas Cake by Lynne Hinton Page A

bed and aplace in the shelter, she would end up back with her abuser. Charlotte had seen it happen too many times.
    â€œI found the cot,” Maria was yelling from the closet that was down the hall from the office. “I hope she’s a really small person,” she added.
    Charlotte assumed she was referring to the condition of the cot and that it couldn’t hold a lot of weight. Recalling what the furniture was like for most of the shelter, she knew it was probably not in great shape.
    She got up from her desk and headed in the direction of the volunteer who was trying to help her set up a space for the new client. Immediately she saw what Maria had meant. The legs on the cot were bent and wouldn’t be able to hold a child, much less an adult.
    â€œThat’s the only one left?” she asked, glancing behind the woman and looking into the closet.
    Maria nodded. “The other three are in the back bedroom. Loretta’s children are using them.”
    Charlotte sighed, remembering Loretta had been in the shelter for only a couple of weeks and her children were too big to share cots and too small to send to another facility. She had faced situations like this numerous times since she had taken the job as executive director of the battered women’s shelter in Gallup, New Mexico. She had been there for only a couple of years, but she had learned a lot, including how to make room for twenty people in a house that was supposed to hold only ten.
    â€œLet me see if I can fix it,” she said.
    Maria handed the bent cot frame to Charlotte, who stretched it out and placed it in the hallway. She tried to straighten the bottom legs, pushed and pulled, thinking she could snap it back in place, and thenshe just gave up. “How about the air mattress? We still got that?” she asked.
    Maria nodded. “It’s in the garage,” she replied. “I’ll go get it.”
    Charlotte tried to fold the cot back up but after her handiwork, it was completely broken. She pulled it down the hall, out the front door, and placed it on the porch. The next day was trash day, and she would place the broken bed next to the garbage cans when she left that afternoon.
    She stood for a moment at the door, trying to see if Maria needed any help finding the mattress. She was planning to go out to the garage when she heard the phone ring. She considered not answering it for fear that it would be another request for space. Finally she walked over and picked up the receiver.
    â€œCharlotte speaking,” she answered.
    â€œJessie and Margaret calling,” Margaret said. Her voice sounded cheerful.
    â€œHey!” Charlotte responded. She quickly moved around her desk and sat down. She was always glad to hear from her friends from North Carolina. “What’s going on with you two?” she asked.
    â€œWe were just thinking about our favorite woman preacher and decided to check on whether or not she was done with her life searching and wanted to come back home.” Margaret wanted the conversation to be as uplifting as possible.
    â€œHello, Charlotte.” Jessie had taken the phone to greet her as well.
    â€œHey Jessie,” the young woman responded. “Well, this is a lovely surprise.” Charlotte could feel her smile widen. “Ya’ll having a cookbook committee meeting?” she asked.
    The two women laughed. They knew Charlotte didn’t know about Beatrice’s latest project.
    â€œFunny you should mention that,” Margaret responded. “We were calling to get a recipe.”
    â€œAre you serious?” Charlotte asked. “I was just kidding.”
    â€œI know you were, but you know how we love to put cookbooks together down here.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œCakes actually,” Margaret explained. “This one is just for cakes.”
    â€œCakes,” Charlotte repeated.
    â€œThat’s right. So, what’s your favorite cake