The Rhyming Baker's Cake Dilemma
by Nonnie Laquidara
Illustrated by Nonnie Laquidara
Abuela Kate was a baker of cakes.
Kate baked cakes that people ate.
The problem Kate had, I’m sorry to say,
was that she wrote names in a peculiar way.
Instead of writing a person’s true name,
Kate wrote words that sounded the same.
One sunny Saturday morning, Sate walked into Abuela Kate’s Bake Shop and ordered a cake for her brother, Nate’s, birthday. Abuela, obsessed with rhyming clues, wrote the name "Zate" in the cake order book as her rhyming clue for Nate. One chocolate cake with fluffy white frosting and rainbow sprinkles for “Zate,” she wrote.
The rhyming clue would have been fine, if Abuela had remembered that Zate was a rhyming clue for the name, Nate.
But she didn’t recall, not at all. All Abuela knew was that the cake was for someone whose name rhymed with Zate, or perhaps it was for someone who was always late or who worked on a ship as the captain’s mate, or someone going out on a date.
“I wonder who is waiting for this birthday cake,” Abuela fretted.
Abuela listed all the rhyming names she could think of, but the list was not long and Nate’s name was not on it.
“Bate, Jate, Quate, and Yate,” Abuela said aloud. Were any of them celebrating a birthday? Abuela did not know.
All she could she do was bring the cake to people whose name rhymed with Zate, and hope that one of them was having a birthday that day.
Bate was living alone in a cabin across a lake around which there was no road. Jate was slithering through a tunnel in Charlton looking for her lost snake, Luis. Quate was picking apples at an orchard in Brookfield. Yate was climbing to the peak of Wachusett Mountain in Princeton to take pictures.
So, when Abuela Kate was finished making the chocolate cake with fluffy white frosting and rainbow sprinkles, she put it into a waterproof box. She climbed into a tub because she had no boat, and paddled her way across the lake using long, wooden spoons because she had no oars.
As Abuela Kate arrived at Bate’s cabin, the fisherman was lunching on a tasty sunfish he had caught in the lake. “Here is your cake. Happy Birthday Bate,” Abuela said, swinging into song, loudly and off-key.
“But it’s not my birthday,” said Bate. “Thanks anyway.”
“Oh no.” Well, enjoy your day,” said Abuela, placing the cake back into the tub.
Disappointed, she paddled back across the lake.
Meanwhile, in Sate and Nate’s Southbridge neighborhood, Sate was anxious for Abuela Kate to deliver the cake for her brother’s birthday. Five people and a squirrel who loved cake were sitting at a table waiting. And the squirrel was getting cranky.
Jate was next on Abuela’s list of names she remembered that rhymed with Zate. Abuela placed the cake in her bicycle basket and rode the bike along the winding roads of Southbridge into Charlton until she came to “Lost Snake Tunnel.” Lying on her belly, she slithered into the tunnel shouting: “Jate, is it your birthday today?”
“No,” Jate hollered back, her voice echoing in the hollow tunnel.
Quate was next. The orchard was three towns away from Southbridge. It was a beautiful day for a roll, so Abuela borrowed roller skates, put the cake into a wooden box to protect it from getting squished, and put the box into her pink duffle bag.
Off she rolled, up hills, around bends and along long, narrow roads until she reached the apple orchard. Quate was easy to find because the bright blue, satin bows in her hair glistened brightly against the brown, green and red of the trees.
“Hey Quate, how old are you today?” shouted Abuela. “Fourteen,” Quate yelled back.
“How old were you yesterday?” hollered Abuela.
“Fourteen,” Quate shouted back as she picked apples and put them into a sack.
Clearly, it wasn’t Quate’s birthday, so Abuela Kate rolled on home and returned the roller skates to her neighbor.
Time was ticking away and Abuela hadn’t delivered the birthday cake yet. Wachusett Mountain was 41 miles away in Princeton, so Abuela had no time to roll on roller skates or peddle a bicycle.
She put on her mountain climbing shoes, grabbed her mountain scaling gear, donned her helmet and hopped onto her trusty, old, yellow motorcycle. In less than an hour, Abuela Kate arrived at the foot of Wachusett Mountain. She parked her motorcycle and started climbing, slowly, carefully, while she looked for Yate.
Finally, as Abuela Kate approached the peak of the mountain, she saw Yate standing there taking pictures of the view all the way to Boston. After pausing to catch her breath, Abuela Kate asked Yate: “Are you older today than you were yesterday?”
“No, said Yate. I’m still 19. ”
Abuela’s shoulders slumped and a tear formed in one eye. “What is the matter? Is there something I can do to help you?” asked Yate.
“It is someone’s birthday today, but because I can’t remember what my rhyming clue rhymes with, that person is without a birthday cake,” said Abuela, trying hard not to sob.
“Well, your clue rhymes with Yate, right?” Yate asked.
“Yes,” replied Abuela, adding, “and Bate and Jate and Quate, but today is not their birthday either.”
Sitting down, Yate took a paper and a pencil from his backpack.
“We can figure this out methodically,” he said. “We will write all the letters of the alphabet on a list, then write “ate” next to each one that forms the sound “ate”.
"I’ll read the list of the rhyming “ate” words to you, and I bet you will remember the name of the person the cake is for when you hear the name. When you hear it, write it down, but keep listening until the list is complete,” said Yate.
And so, Yate wrote the alphabet: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Next to each letter he added “ate” if putting the letters together formed the “ate” rhyming sound.
When Yate was done, he read the list to Abuela; “Bate, Cate, Date, Fate, Gate, Hate, Jate, Kate, Late, Mate, Nate, Pate, Quate Rate, Sate, Tate, Vate, Wate, Xate, Yate, Zate.
As soon as Abuela heard the name “Nate” she got all excited and wrote it down, but she kept listening until the list was done.
When Yate stopped listing words, Abuela jumped up and down shouting:
“It’s Nate. It’s Nate Gonzalez!. I remember. Oh, thank you, thank you!”
Abuela knew where nearly everyone in town lived, so she knew that Nate and his sister, Sate, lived with their aunt, two cousins and a squirrel near West Street School.
Abuela Kate hugged Yate then tucked the paper with Nate’s name into her apron pocket. Smiling excitedly, Abuela climbed back down the mountain and hopped onto her old yellow motorcycle.
She zipped along winding roads and one straight street back to Southbridge, where Nate and four other people were sitting at a picnic bench trying to calm the cranky squirrel.
“Happy Birthday,” Abuela yelled to Nate, swinging into song, loudly and off-key.
“What a delicious-looking cake,” said Sate. "Thank you for making it and bringing it. Would you like to stay for a piece?"
Abuela took a deep breath and sat on the bench.
“I would like that very much,” said Abuela as she ate cake with Nate and Sate and their aunt and two cousins and the squirrel, which calmed down considerably as soon as it tasted the frosting with rainbow sprinkles.
The end.
.