Claire walked into the house, bag over her shoulder and a bucket of crabs clattering against her knees. The creatures vigorously snapped their claws like tiny sabers. Paddy trotted behind her, eyeing her the same way a boss does a lazy employee.
Her grandmother, perched in a chair just outside the kitchen door had a smoke pipe dangling from her lips. The sight made Claire freeze.
"Grandma, are you smoking?" She asked with uncertainty.
Wilder laughed, taking the pipe out of her mouth. "Of course not. I would not rot my lungs away like that. This is a family heirloom that has gone untouched for many years. I am trying to channel my ancestors."
Claire raised her brows. "Channel your ancestors!"
The old woman dangled the pipe. "There is no tobacco in here dear, don’t worry your pretty self about it. I don’t smoke, but I do drink. Whiskey and rum are my vices." Her eyes focused on the crabs. "Well, holy hell," Wilder muttered, her voice gravelly. "What should we call this today? Surely, it can’t be simple luck."
Claire narrowed her eyes. "Your voice is gravelly. You have been smoking. I am telling mom."
Wilder gestured around. "If you can smell it in the air, then arrest me. Wait here, girl. Don’t you move a bloody inch."
Claire raised an eyebrow but obeyed. Her grandmother disappeared into her bedroom muttering something that sounded like prayers mixed with curses. A minute later, she reemerged, clutching a glass bottle filled with a cloudy liquid. She shook it like a weapon, then marched straight toward Claire.
Before Claire could protest, her grandmother sprayed her from head to toe. The liquid was cold, and smelled faintly of vinegar, wine and herbs.
Claire sputtered, dropping the bucket onto the floor. "What the--grandma!"
"Don’t worry, it’s just holy water." Wilder assured her. "I keep it on me in case the mermaids come. We live close to the sea; you never know when one might grow legs and move into your house pretending to be a family member."
Claire blinked, while the crabs clattered in their buckets as if laughing.
Wilder sprayed again for good measure, muttering, "No granddaughter of mine will be half a fish on my watch. I will make you some of this tomorrow. You’ll thank me when you fend off a mermaid someday."
Claire sighed, half amused, half exasperated. "Grandma there is wine in your holy water! If the goal is to get mermaids drunk, then you will achieve it. And, even if mermaids were real, holy water would not work on them! They are not vampires."
Wilder shrugged. "Same thing. Ask Lemon, she is the one with the degree in witchcraft. Mermaids and vampires are right up her alley."
Claire sighed again. The thought that maybe her grandmother’s eccentricities explained why Aunt Dakota ran away crossed her mind. A light chuckle came from her lips however, because she thought of Lemon. Her cousin would regret ever attaining that degree because their grandmother would never let her live it down.
"You can’t keep bringing your catch home for lunch Claire." Wilder complained, setting the holy water down on the chair she had been sitting in. "You have a baby on the way and children are expensive. Every coin you make matters."
"I sold thirty-five like this already." Claire shared triumphantly. "I made 17,500 dollars. I plan to give you 5,000 as household expenses. If you need more, just tell me."
Wilder shook her head. "We didn’t move in to live off you. Your grandfather and I planned our twilight years out very well. As long as we are here, we will support you when it comes to the little things." She turned, walking to the kitchen. "Bring in the crabs. I will prepare them for dinner."
Claire followed with the bucket, with Paddy on her heels. "I am going to look for a shop in Uppity Briarshore." She shared.
Wilder turned around and looked at her thoughtfully. "Are you planning to sell high end sea food?"
"Briarshore has many sea food shops that sell ordinary sea food. If I squeeze into the market, I don’t think I will achieve what I desire because I will be just another grain of sand among the millions on a large beach." Claire replied, picking an apple from the fruit basket on the kitchen counter. "It doesn’t mean that I have no plans to sell ordinary sea food. But if I do, I can’t do it in Briarshore. I have to get a shop in the city for that."
Her grandmother nodded thoughtfully. "That is not a bad plan. But how sure are you that you will be able to find such great quality sea food all the time? I know these waters. I don’t know how you have managed to get lucky twice, but I know it’s not normal."
Claire smiled secretively. "I have my ways."
Wilder did not press. Claire had just returned from a family where everyone lived off her hard work. Their family was different. Unless she decided to pull them along, they would not squeeze themselves into her business.
The old woman was no fool. If her granddaughter could find such great seafood all the time, then she had a secret. Maybe technology, maybe great luck, or maybe the sea just spat out what she desired. Whatever it was, she would not ask questions.
The sound of a car driving up to the house came through the kitchen window. Wilder squinted at the sight and muttered, "That damn car again. Fifth bloody time it’s parked here. If they are selling vacuum cleaners, I am going to spray them with bleach, not holy water."
Claire walked to the window and took a peek. Her stomach dropped. She recognized the license plate--it was Andrew’s. With an angry sigh, she marched outside.
Andrew stepped out of the car before she reached it. His hair was slicked back, shoes gleaming, his smirk dripping condescension. "So, this is where you came to hide? Figures. You can’t show your face in the city anymore."
Claire crossed her arms. "You are truly like trash. Everywhere I go, I can’t avoid you. What do you want?"
He jabbed a finger at her, voice rising. "What the hell is going on with you and Apollo Ashford? He has always hated your guts. A man like him would never look at a worthless woman I dumped. Have you been cheating on me all this time? All those business meetings from city to city. Were you meeting him? How long has he been fucking you? Answer me you slut." He lunged, trying to grab her hand, shouting accusations loud enough for the neighbors to peek through their curtains.