Donna would have punched Delia’s nose right there, if Victor had not stopped her.
Wilder’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits. "Your sister did not take any dress from me. And why are you screaming at the top of your voice? Are you being loud deliberately so that everyone in a five-mile radius will know that you bought me a few ugly dresses?"
Delia acted shocked, pressing a hand to her chest. "Mom, how can you say that about me?"
She denied it, but truly that had been her exact intention and they all knew it.
"If you must know," Wilder scoffed, rolling her shoulders, "I gave them all away to a shelter that helps women who’ve run away from violent situations. Besides, I don’t do bloody dresses and you already know this. They air out parts of me that don’t need air."
Claire snorted and covered her mouth to keep the chuckle threatening to escape from her throat.
Delia shook her head, letting her eyes pass right by her mother until they landed on the young lady standing nearby. "This must be Claire Dane, the one Victor’s rich brother threw out."
Donna lunged, but Victor caught her. "She will be gone in ten minutes."
Donna growled like a dog and dug her nails into Victor’s arms.
Claire offered a polite smile and gave Delia and the young woman she guessed was Delia’s daughter a little wave.
In the very next second, Claire was yanked into a bone-crushing hug by the young woman. "Oh my gosh! It is so good to meet you! I am Lemon Clinton, your cousin." The woman squeaked into her hair.
Lemon finally pulled back to take in Claire’s features_ big, brown doll eyes, smooth skin, and thick, black healthy hair that fell down her shoulders. Claire had that effortless beauty which didn’t need extra effort to be noticed.
Lemon blinked, a bit stunned, before quickly puffing out her chest. "Wow, you’re actually really pretty! I mean, I’m still clearly the drop-dead gorgeous one in the family, obviously, but you’re a very close second!"
Wilder let out a loud, mocking snort. "Right. And I’m the bloody Queen of supermodels. Keep telling yourself that, child, maybe one day the mirror won’t laugh back. Your mother named you Lemon because she said you’d wrinkle early, like a lemon left too long in the sun."
"Mother!" Donna gasped.
Wilder pouted and looked the other way.
Delia greeted Claire next. She didn’t hug her or even offer a handshake, mostly because she absolutely hated human contact with anyone she deemed beneath her standards.
"I have some things to say; I won’t be leaving in ten minutes." Delia shot Donna a smirk.
While Donna shot her sister a glare, Wilder served fresh iced lemon tea and warm baked biscuits. Delia picked up a teacup with her pinky finger sticking out, and looked around the house with displeasure.
"I could always just buy a house for you in Angel View, you know," Delia said with a dismissive wave of her manicured hand. "After all, we have so much money just lying around, it’s practically a chore to spend it."
Wilder leaned back on the sofa, crossing her arms. "And is your husband Trent going to be okay with you throwing that kind of money around?"
It was an open secret in the family that Delia was just a housewife. Her husband was notoriously strict with his money, and Delia had to report every single penny of her expenses to him like an accountant under audit. How exactly was she going to explain buying a whole house for her sister?
Donna offered a polite smile and looked at her sister. "I’m grateful for the offer, Delia, really. But even if I wanted to, Victor is a very proud man who believes in providing for his family himself. He would never accept."
Delia’s eyes scanned the cozy, modest living room in a distinctly minimizing way. "Well... if you call this providing, then okay."
Before Donna could respond, Lemon beamed brightly, eager to shift the spotlight back onto herself. "Great news grandma. I’m working for my father now! I’m a top executive secretary!"
Grandma Wilder let out a loud, muffled chuckle into her tea. "Ah, of course. Naturally, when a horse lacks the legs for the derby, you keep it safe in the stable, so it doesn’t wander off into traffic."
Claire folded her lips tightly, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from bursting into laughter right there.
Delia frowned, looking confused. "Mother, what on earth does that mean?"
Wilder blinked innocently, taking a slow sip of her tea. "I meant to say I’m just so bloody proud of Lemon. Truly."
Lemon smiled, though her brows stayed slightly furrowed as if her brain was still trying to process the horse comment. Then she turned her eyes toward Claire, her expression turning into a mix of pity and satisfaction.
"You know," Lemon said slyly, "the news is literally everywhere that Claire is out of a job." She turned to her mother. "Mom, maybe you should tell dad to find a little position for Claire at the office. Like answering phones or filing papers? Even mopping floors will do."
Delia nodded sagely. "Oh, I was thinking the exact same thing! We really want to help Claire in her pitiful condition any way we can. Poor thing, jobless and adrift."
"May God give me strength before I smack you into next week," Wilder cursed silently under her breath, her jaw clenching so hard her teeth nearly clicked. She set her teacup down on the saucer with a loud clatter. "Listen here, you narrow-minded brainless fish that I birthed. Claire is brilliant. She built up Alden and Heimi Foods practically single-handedly! Any company with half a brain would drag their knees through hot glass to hire her. There is no bloody need to treat my granddaughter like some charity case!"
Delia gasped, clutching her pearls in genuine shock. "Mother! I just wanted to help. How can you call me a brainless fish?"
"Because that is what you are. If you’re so desperate to hand out charity, go find an orphanage!" Wilder shot back without blinking.
Claire cleared her throat gently, stepping into the crossfire before her grandmother’s colorful vocabulary got any worse. She looked straight at her aunt with a calm, polite smile.
"Thank you for thinking of me, Aunt Delia," Claire said smoothly. "But you really don’t need to worry. I have everything completely figured out."
Wilder’s sharp eyes softened as she looked at Claire. A wave of pride washed over her face_ she loved seeing Claire stand tall on her own two feet, refusing to let shallow people minimize her worth.
Feeling slighted, Delia quickly pulled out her phone to regain control of the room. She dialed her driver. "James? Bring in all those bags from the trunk. Yes, the ones from the luxury boutique in the city." She hung up and looked at Claire with a smug smile. "I brought you all a few little trinkets from the high-end shops in Fallon. Things you normally wouldn’t get to see on this side of Briarshore because it’s like the 18th century over here."
Wilder closed her eyes and cursed again under her breath. "Bloody hell. I want to strangle her with her own tongue!"
She knew what was coming next. She was going to have to sit through an hour or two of Delia pulling out price tags and bragging about the cost of every single item she had brought as if she was making a sales pitch. What a way to ruin a day that had started out so great!