Delia sniffed the air like a dog on the hunt. Something wonderful was cooking in the kitchen. It was rich and buttery, carrying a promise of luxury that made her drool. "Mom, it smells like abalone and not the cheap ones. It smells like my kind of delicacy!"
Before she could step foot into the kitchen, she found herself blocked. Claire, her brothers and parents had formed a human wall, shoulder to shoulder, at the strict command of Wilder. The old woman stood on a stool behind the human wall, cane in hand. Donovan had the unlucky task of holding her by the waist just in case she lost her balance.
Wilder was glaring like a general overseeing her troops.
"Take your perfume and go, Delia. You are not stepping foot into this kitchen." Donna said firmly, though her heart raced.
Donna was feeling very embarrassed because she didn’t think Claire had ever witnessed something like this.
Delia’s face twisted. "What nonsense is this? Donna, I am your older sister! I have every right to taste what’s being cooked. What are you hiding from me? If it’s good, I want to take it back for Trent and my parents-in-law. We rarely have anything worth showing off. This is a good opportunity to impress them."
Wilder’s voice cut through the air, sharper than a whip. "You greedy hen, get out. You want to take it back for your husband and parents-in-law! Have you thought about your parents? Don’t your father and I deserve to eat nice things?"
"I brought you nice things and you rejected them!" Delia squealed, trying to shove Claire and Bennett out of the way. "It’s just a few abalones, what’s the big deal?"
Donna shoved Delia back. "Exactly. It’s not a big deal so you don’t need to take anything. Besides these are Claire’s abalones and none of us have the right to hand them over to you."
"Don’t steal from your niece, have some shame." Wilder snapped.
Delia’s cheeks flushed red. "Mom, I am her aunt. So what if I take a few of her things? Why are you favoring her so much over me? She is just a granddaughter while I am your real daughter. If she caught a few abalones once, I am sure she can catch them again."
There was a moment of silence as the rest pondered her level of shamelessness which seemed to have no limit.
"Why don’t you go and catch them yourself?" Victor finally snapped.
Delia glared at him. "I can’t even talk to you." She fell to her knees, trying to sneak into the kitchen by passing through anyone’s legs.
"Holy shit! All this for abalones!" Claire exclaimed and burst into laughter.
The Bens chuckled, but none dared to grant her entry. Delia rose and lunged forward, trying to squeeze through Claire and Bennett again. She picked them specifically because they were the smallest in size.
"Hold the line." Wilder commanded.
Claire and Bennett shoved back, holding the line as instructed.
"Out of the way you damn brats!" Delia shrieked. "I’ll just take half. It’s not like you will starve."
Wilder slammed her cane against the floor. "You’ll take nothing! You always say that you have got money dripping out of your ears, yet you come here sniffing around like a stray dog to take from us, poor people. Get out before I curse you so hard your fancy purses turn into seaweed."
Delia gasped, outraged. "Mom! How can you speak to me like that?"
"I gave you life so I will speak to you how I like," Wilder barked, "If you don’t like it, go and speak to your daughters in the same way. While you are at it, speak some sense into that Lemon. Maybe if you were harder on her the way I am on you, she would spend less time day dreaming and go back to school to get a real degree not that nonsense she studied. What the fuck is a degree in witchcraft?"
Delia screamed. "It’s not a degree in witchcraft! It’s a Bachelor of Arts in Folklore studies."
"Witchcraft." Wilder summarized.
The room erupted in laughter. Delia tried to take advantage of their laughter, eyes darting wildly, searching for an opening. She tried again, failed, and feigned retreat before spinning back suddenly, hoping to catch them off guard. No luck--the wall held firm.
"Mom, you’re humiliating me!" she wailed. "In front of my niece and nephews!"
Wilder smirked. "Good. Maybe humiliation will teach you manners. Now get out before I order Paddy to chase you out."
Delia tried one last desperate tactic, falling to her knees and crying. "Mom, do you have any idea how hard it is for me? I am an ordinary woman who was lucky enough to marry into the Clinton family. I don’t have a good background, good education or strong finances. To make it worse, I gave birth to two daughters! The doctor said I can’t have children anymore. I am scared that Trent will divorce me. My only hope is to cozy up to his parents and prove that I have some value."
"And two abalones will get the job done?" Wilder snorted. "My God...you are dumber than a rock, Delia! I gave your father four daughters and he didn’t divorce me because of it. Does Trent have a throne in his family that needs inheriting so he simply must have a son?"
Claire snorted. Her grandmother was the most verbally ruthless old woman she had ever met. But given Delia’s character, Claire did not blame the old woman. If she had a daughter like this too, she would curse a lot.
Delia clutched her chest, sinking to the floor. "Mom, just give me the abalones. Do you want your daughter to die?"
Wilder snorted. "If you’re dying, die outside. Don’t stink up your sister’s house."
The act failed. Delia scrambled up, her dignity shredded. She stormed toward the door, her heels clattering like nails being hammered. "Ungrateful lot! I hope you choke on your damn abalones!" she shouted, slamming the door behind her. The perfume she had returned to take back was forgotten once again.
Silence followed, broken only by Wilder’s mutter: "Choke? Ha. We’ll savor every bite and she will choke on her own greed and pride."
The family burst into laughter, the tension dissolving. Claire exhaled, relief washing over her. After that, she laughed again, so much to the point of crouching. She couldn’t believe that this was her life now: guarding abalones from the greedy hands of her own aunt! Suddenly, she couldn’t wait for Delia’s next visit.