One of the older girls had made tea, and now she brought this in, together with the rich fruit cake on a plate. Mr J.L.B. Matekoni saw the cake, and for a moment he frowned. He knew Mma Potokwane, and the presence of a large cake, specially made for the occasion, was an unambiguous signal that she had a request to make of him. A cake of this size, and emitting such a strong smell of raisins, would mean a major mechanical problem. The minivan? He had replaced the brake pads recently, but he was concerned about the engine seals. At that age, engine seals could go and the block could heat up and…

“I’ve made you a cake,” said Mma Potokwane brightly.

“You are a very generous person, Mma,” said Mr J.L.B. Matekoni flatly. “You always remember that I like raisins.”

“I have many more packets of raisins,” said Mma Potokwane, making a generous gesture, as might one with an unlimited supply of raisins. She reached over to the plate and cut a large portion of cake for her guest. Mr J.L.B. Matekoni watched her, and he thought: once I eat this cake I will have to say yes. But then he went on to think: I always say yes anyway, cake or no cake. What difference is there?

“I should think that Mma Ramotswe makes you many cakes these days,” said Mma Potokwane as she slid a generous portion of cake onto her own plate. “She is a good cook, I think.”

Mr J.L.B. Matekoni nodded. “She is best at cooking pumpkin and things like that,” he said. “But she can also make cakes. You ladies are very clever.”

“Yes,” agreed Mma Potokwane, pouring the tea. “We are much cleverer than you men, but unfortunately you do not know that.”