Claire thought the mother-daughter competition to show off would end there. But no! These women were determined to get some kind of praise or acknowledgment.
Delia’s voice cracked. "This perfume costs six thousand dollars! Imported--"
"Will this ever end?" Donna growled. "Delia, we don’t need to know how much these things cost. We don’t even need them because they are not practical. Giving mom six thousand dollars in cash is better than giving her a perfume she will never use. We are your family; you don’t need to pretend to be rich around us."
Lemon rose, her brows knitted together in anger. "We are not pretending, my boyfriend is rich. He is taking me to Dubai next month."
Wilder rolled her eyes. "Dubai? Ha! The only desert he’ll take you to is the one in his bank account. You’ll be sipping sand, not champagne. What kind of serious entrepreneur has money to take his girlfriend to Dubai when he is starting a business? Clearly, he doesn’t know how to prioritize. I was wrong, he doesn’t have boiled potatoes for brains, he has a few grains of sand up there."
The room howled. Lemon sat down and shrank into the sofa, but Delia was shaking like a volcano about to erupt.
"This watch costs twelve thousand dollars!" she screamed, slamming it onto the table. "It’s timeless. Unlike some people’s manners."
Lemon tried one last time. "On the subject of timeless things, my boyfriend says he will propose soon."
Wilder leaned forward, eyes blazing. "Propose? I hope you will be smart enough to say no. If you marry that man, you will be hand in hand with him, proposing a loan extension. And when the bank laughs in his face, I will laugh louder."
The laughter in the room reached a fever pitch. Donna nearly fell off the chair. Victor clapped his hands like a child at a circus. Claire herself was gasping for air, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Delia snapped. "Enough! Mom, must you be so cruel to us? We just wanted to share some good things and great news with all of you. How can you treat us this way? This is vile! You people are jealous and ungrateful. And you...." she turned to Claire. "I am your mother’s older sister. I am your aunt, your elder. How dare you mock me? I find your behavior very disrespectful. Come, darling," she hissed to her daughter, grabbing Lemon’s arm. "We’re leaving right now. Grab our things, they won’t be appreciated here anyway."
Lemon looked torn but followed obediently. Delia stormed out, her bag clutched tightly in her arms. The scarf was the only thing she left behind.
For a moment, silence. Then Wilder muttered: "Good riddance. That girl gives me a headache whenever she visits. It can’t be a simple visit where we calmly sit for tea and exchange ideas on how to make this family better. No! All of her visits are like stage performances where she talks about her happy, rich, flashy life. Lemon is no different from Delia. She’s like a peacock with diarrhea--loud, flashy and impossible to ignore. The girl makes up so many damn stories all the time. I still don’t know why Delia named her Lemon! Did she want her daughter to live a sour life?"
The family exploded into laughter again, louder than ever.
"See, I told you not to bother hitting her. I knew she would leave in a storm of anger anyway." Victor said to his wife, cackling in a way that made Claire laugh louder.
Donna sighed. "I can’t help turning into a cat on edge around her. Delia has a way of annoying me within five seconds of us seeing each other."
"Is it always like this?" Claire asked.
Her grandfather, coming out of hiding from the kitchen, replied eagerly. "Oh yes, each and every single visit of Delia’s goes like this. She likes to rub it in everyone’s face about how well she is doing. I am sure that tomorrow you will hear all about the stops she is going to make on her way out of Briarshore."
"She goes around town doing this!" Claire gasped.
Wilder shook her head. "Why do you think everyone vanished as soon as she arrived with that Lemon of hers? Last year, they passed by Graves supermarket and made nasty comments about all the candy they sell. Lemon shoved little Ben Graves on her way out of the supermarket and threatened to sue his mother for a million dollars because Ben touched her dress!"
Claire could hardly believe what she was hearing. "She must have gotten along splendidly with Ritah, then."
Donna snorted. "Nope."
Benjamin giggled. "Sis, those two have the same character. You kept quiet when Lemon was bragging, but Ritah used to brag right back. Especially after she started living with Uncle Alden and aunt Heimi two years ago. They came to blows at grandma’s birthday last year while comparing earrings!"
"At least one of them is gone now." Donna muttered. "That damn Ritah! I can’t believe she had the guts to attend my mother’s birthday and cause a scene all the while knowing she was not my daughter!"
Victor patted her back, urging her to calm down.
"I should have shoved her face into the cake." Donna said, with a voice filled with regret.
"Me too." Claire said, with the same regret in her own voice. She was thinking about the cake she paid for but never got the chance to eat on her birthday. Come to think of it, she never celebrated her birthday at all this year because the day was ruined splendidly.
Wilder suddenly rose abruptly, shrieking as if she had been jabbed by something sharp. "Abalones! Claire, we forgot about the seafood."
It so happened that Donovan had pushed it all to the kitchen while Delia was bragging.
"I didn’t open it because I didn’t want Delia to see what was inside." Wilder explained to Claire, who was following her into the kitchen. "Whenever we have something nice, Delia carries it off to impress her husband and in-laws. I don’t know if I gave birth to a daughter or a debtor. Listen attentively Claire, when you have nice things hide them from Delia and Lemon, or you will be robbed clean."
Claire nodded firmly. This was good advice to hear. After being robbed by Ritah’s family, she was not about to look on while someone else did the same thing again. No more nice, generous, cousin.
Suddenly, Claire froze, just like her grandmother had done a second ago. One abalone had been scrubbed clean and set to simmer already. A strange fragrance filled the air--earthy and hauntingly sweet. It was nothing like any abalones she had eaten before.
Paddy was growling restlessly already, warning everyone to stay away from his lunch.