DeKalb Daily

Chapter 24: Rich’s White Cake
Donna Harris

The first time Joe laughed at Bertha, she forgot she was wearing pearls worth more than the little cottage where he slept.

He sat in her lap, fat little fists wrapped around the string of pearls while drool soaked the front of her silk blouse. Most women would have gasped.

Bertha only laughed.

“Well,” she said, kissing the top of his fiery red head, “I reckon these pearls finally found somebody worthy of them.”

Sara smiled from the rocker.

“You spoil him.”

“I intend to.”

She surprised herself every week.

She had never pictured grandchildren. Children had been responsibilities. Grandchildren, apparently, were magic.

Joe III reached toward her every time she pulled into the yard.

That simple act—those tiny hands reaching—could undo every hard place she’d built around her heart.

Every Thursday afternoon the black Packard rolled into Atlanta’s working neighborhoods.

Sara would already be waiting on the porch with Joe bundled in blankets.

“Where we headed today, Mother Harris?”

Bertha grinned.

“Anywhere but where we’re expected.”

Sometimes they drove through Druid Hills where the houses looked like castles.

Sometimes they watched airplanes at Candler Field.

Sometimes they bought roasted peanuts from street vendors.

Sara had never learned to drive.

The first time Bertha discovered it, she nearly slammed on the brakes.

“You mean to tell me you’re raising my grandson and can’t get yourself across town?”

Sara looked embarrassed.

“My daddy always said ladies didn’t need to.”

Bertha snorted.

“Your daddy was wrong.”

The following Monday they were in an empty church parking lot.

The Packard lurched.

Stalled.

Lurched again.

Sara squealed.

“I’ve killed it!”

“You haven’t killed anything except my patience.” Bertha chuckled. “Again.”

By October Sara could ease the big Packard through Atlanta traffic like she’d been born behind the wheel.

“There now,” Bertha said proudly. “Never let a woman tell you she has to depend on anybody.”

Park Street quickly became Joe’s favorite place.

Marjorie adored him.

She’d crawl across the parlor rug making ridiculous faces until the little boy laughed so hard he’d hiccup.

Even Mrs. Jenkins, who claimed babies ruined furniture, secretly kept peppermint sticks hidden in her apron for when Joe got older.

But one place remained off limits.

The boarding house.

Sara asked only once.

“Is that where you work?”

Bertha looked through the windshield a little longer than necessary.

“It isn’t a place for children.”

Nor for daughters-in-law who still believed the world was mostly good.

Some doors stayed shut.

She intended to keep them that way.

Instead she had another plan.

A respectable little dress shop.

Or perhaps a beauty parlor.

Maybe a florist.

Something that belonged solely to Sara.

A woman with her own income was a woman who could survive disappointment.

Bertha loved Troy.

But she’d spent twenty-five years learning exactly how much faith one should place in charming Harris men.

Christmas was only weeks away.

Troy’s letters said he’d be home.

Every sentence ended with excitement.

Every one left Bertha uneasy.

She couldn’t explain it.

Somewhere beneath the joy sat a knot she couldn’t untie.

She dreamed twice that month of train whistles fading into darkness.

She woke before dawn both times.

One chilly Saturday she drove downtown.

Sara stared through the Packard windows.

Atlanta glittered.

Christmas decorations stretched across Alabama Street.

Window displays sparkled with electric lights.

Then Sara saw it.

Rich’s.

She stopped walking.

“My goodness…”

The marble columns.

The polished brass doors.

Crystal chandeliers visible through enormous windows.

Ladies in velvet hats.

Gentlemen in tailored suits.

Waiters gliding across polished floors carrying silver trays.

“I don’t reckon folks like us belong in there.”

Bertha laughed.

“My dear…”

She adjusted Sara’s collar.

“They’ll belong the minute I walk through those doors.”

The hostess smiled the instant she recognized Bertha.

“Mrs. Harris. Your usual table?”

“If you would.”

Sara’s eyes never stopped moving.

White linen.

Fresh flowers.

Silver so polished it reflected the chandeliers overhead.

A violin played softly somewhere upstairs.

Three of Sara’s sisters arrived moments later, each looking as nervous as church mice.

One whispered,

“I’ve never eaten anywhere with three forks.”

Bertha smiled.

“Then today you’ll learn why nobody needs more than one.”

The tension disappeared.

Soon the sisters were laughing.

The waiter poured hot tea from gleaming silver pots.

Tiny cucumber sandwiches arrived.

Chicken salad in delicate pastry shells.

Warm buttered rolls.

Then…

The cake.

Every conversation in the room seemed to pause.

The waiter carried it like a crown jewel.

Six perfect layers.

Snow-white frosting.

Coconut shimmering like fresh December snow.

Sara simply stared.

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”

Bertha cut the first slice herself.

The cake nearly floated off the fork.

Light.

Moist.

Vanilla blooming with every bite.

Sara closed her eyes.

“Oh…”

One sister whispered,

“I don’t think food’s supposed to taste like this.”

Bertha laughed until tears formed.

“There now… that’s the proper reaction.”

For nearly three hours they forgot wars.

Forgot money.

Forgot disappointment.

For one afternoon they were simply women sharing tea beneath crystal chandeliers while Atlanta hurried past outside.

As they prepared to leave, Bertha caught sight of herself reflected in the restaurant window.

For the first time in years…

She looked content.

Almost.

Outside, Christmas shoppers filled Alabama Street.

A newspaper boy shouted headlines.

“Europe on edge!”

“Military expansion!”

The words drifted away in the cold wind.

Across the street, a train whistle echoed through downtown.

Bertha stopped.

Just for a heartbeat.

The sound sent an unexplained chill through her.

She glanced toward the station.

“Mother Harris?”

Sara touched her arm.

“You all right?”

Bertha forced a smile.

“Oh yes.”

But as she looked toward the tracks…

She couldn’t shake the feeling that Christmas was bringing home more than just her son.

Rich’s Famous White Cake (Inspired by the Legendary Rich’s Department Store Tea Room)
Cake

3 cups cake flour
2½ teaspoons baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
1 cup unsalted butter, softened
2 cups granulated sugar
6 egg whites
1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract
1 teaspoon almond extract
1¼ cups whole milk
Seven-Minute Frosting

1½ cups sugar
⅓ cup water
2 egg whites
¼ teaspoon cream of tartar
1 teaspoon vanilla
Cover the finished cake with sweetened flaked coconut, just as Rich’s Tea Room was famous for doing.

Bake the cake at 350°F for 25–30 minutes, allow the layers to cool completely, frost generously, and cover with coconut until it resembles freshly fallen snow.

“There was a time when Christmas in Atlanta wasn’t official until someone had a slice of Rich’s White Cake.”

My Old Man

I have always considered myself above average in certain areas: strength, coordination, and possibly even smarts. But one sad truth I have to admit is that my dad was better than me at, well… everything.

You did not want to play checkers with this man. I never won one game against him my entire life. When you see those old timers sitting around the small stores and city park playing checkers, trust me, it’s not just a game; it’s a calculated strategic event. Dad always told me to look four moves ahead, but I was lucky to know where my next piece was going.

And forget throwing horseshoes. Like most people, I tried to make the shoe flip one time in air and hopefully land around the stake. But Dad held the horseshoe on the side and made it rotate 360 degrees instead of flipping it. And if it landed anywhere near the stake, it slid right around it. I once watched him win ten games in a row and threw a ringer every time.

My senior year in high school, I was the fastest lineman on the football team, running the 40 in under five seconds. Had God seen fit to bless me with normal length legs instead of these stubby things, there’s no telling how fast I could have been. Yet my dad, who was 47 at the time and horribly out of shape, could smoke me. In fact, Dad could run backward with me running forward and still outrun me.

Between the ages of 18 and 25, I racked up dozens of arm wrestling and powerlifting trophies. I hit the gym religiously. Yet Dad, who had never stepped foot in a fitness center in his life, could toss me around like a rag doll and beat me at arm wrestling easily.

To make matters worse, it wasn’t just physical things he excelled at. I was on the math team in high school and even won first-place trophies for that. Dad, however, who never made it past elementary school, was even sharper. He could do advanced mathematics in his head faster than most people can do them on a calculator.

I’ve always read that to get better at something, you need to compete with those better than you. Well, that sums up my entire life with regards to my dad. I truly think it was a great thing having a father so capable. That might be why I did do well in certain areas, just from the competition.

There’s actually a verse in the Bible that explains it better. Proverbs 27:17 (NIV) says, “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.”

Dense Fog Advisory issued by NWS Huntsville AL Affected Area: Lauderdale; Colbert; Franklin; Lawrence; Limestone; Madison; Morgan; Marshall; Jackson; DeKalb; Cullman; Moore; Lincoln; Franklin

Creek Kids Watershed Workshop: Learning about our Water

It's NOT just for kids! Join us for a hands-on adventure exploring Little River and its watershed! Learn how our waterways connect across Alabama and beyond—and discover the amazing plants and animals that live right here in our streams.

We’ll take a short walk to Laurel Creek and the West Fork of Little River to explore, cool off, and closely observe aquatic life such as crayfish, mussels, snails, dragonfly larvae, and more. It’s a fun way to get into the water and learn what lives beneath the surface!

Saturday, July 11, 2026
10:00 a.m. – 1:00 p.m.
Open to all ages
Pre-registration required (by July 8)

More info: https://reserve.alapark.com/register/DSP-Creek-Kids2

Start your morning on the water with our July Daybreak Flatwater Paddle Trip! Join DeSoto State Park staff for a peaceful guided paddle on the beautiful, clear waters of the West Fork of Little River near DeSoto Falls.

Enjoy quiet morning scenery while learning about the area's unique wildlife, plants, and history.

Saturday, July 11, 2026 | 7:00 - 10:00 a.m.
DeSoto Falls Picnic Area - Miller's Bend Paddle Shack

What to know
• Approx. 4-mile round-trip guided paddle on flatwater
• Kayak, paddle, and life jacket included
• Ages 8+
• Must be able to paddle upstream and return
• Weight limits: 300 lbs (single) / 450 lbs (tandem)
• Bring water, snacks, bug spray, and weather-appropriate clothing

Pre-registration required (closes July 6) https://reserve.alapark.com/register/DSP-Daybreak-Paddle