At six sharp the next morning, Claire clomped down the stairs in her brand-new fishing uniform: orange bib overalls so bright they could signal an aircraft, rubber boots that squeaked with every step and an absurdly large hat.
Wilder and Donovan were already up, sitting at the dining table, sipping tea. The moment they saw her, they burst into laughter so loud the teacups rattled.
"Lord love me a duck, Claire!" Wilder wheezed, fumbling for her phone. "You look like a damn traffic cone that escaped from the highway! That or a kid dressed as a traffic cone for halloween." She snapped a few pictures. "You are going to scare away all the fish. This has to be Archer’s work. Your brother likes shouting colors. The brighter, the better. I think Donna was drinking glitter when she was pregnant with that one."
Donovan chuckled, shaking his head. "If the fish don’t bite, at least you will blind them into submission."
Claire rolled her eyes, tugging at the straps. "Archer says it’s practical and I agree. Waterproof, durable and logical. In case of an accident at sea, I will be easy to find."
Wilder snorted. "Practical my ass. You look like you are auditioning for a clown parade."
"Or about to model for a bait magazine." Donovan sniggered.
The two elders guffawed so hard that they started to wheeze. By the time Claire left the house with Paddy, her grandfather was slapping the table, half laughing, half-crying!
Outside, Claire bumped into her parents waiting by her car. Their faces were tight, anxious--yesterday’s events still hung between them like fog. She hesitated, adjusting the hat, unsure if she should speak first.
When she returned with Archer last night, her parents were gone. Wilder had said Donna had been crying so hard that Victor had taken her somewhere else to calm her. Dinner had been her, the old couple and Archer.
If there was anyone Claire had the most awkward relationship within this family, it was her mother. Donna was always walking on thin ice around her. Afraid to say the wrong thing. Afraid to look at her for too long. Afraid to hug her even when she wanted to.
Before the silence could choke them, one of the quadruplets appeared with his bicycle, grinning. "Well, well, if it isn’t Captain Carrot. Ready to lead us into the great orange sea?"
Claire squinted slightly, observing his features before assigning an identity. This was Benedict.
The other Bens, smirks and all, rolled up behind Benedict on their bikes.
"Don’t forget the boots," Benjamin said. "I could hear the duck like quacking all the way from the willow tree. Archer must have stolen them from a duck."
"Or a marching band," Bernard added. "Play the tuba, Claire, and you will fit right in with this family of musical misfits."
Benson leaned on his handlebars, pretending to squint. "Is that a hat or a parasol?"
Claire groaned, but their teasing cracked the tension. Even her parents managed faint smiles, the awkwardness softening as the boys circled her like mischievous dolphins.
"Laugh all you want," Claire said, straightening her hat, "When I haul in a hundred pounds of those crabs you ate for dinner last night, you will be begging me for a taste."
Her brothers exchanged looks, then chorused: "Sis, you are the most beautiful orange carrot we have ever seen."
Their bicycles rattled off toward school, their laughter trailing behind. Claire watched them go, secretly grateful. Their jokes had sliced through the heaviness, leaving her parents less guarded.
Her father cleared his throat. "You...are heading out now."
Claire nodded once.
Her mother nodded, still cautious but softer. "Just...be careful out there. If you need help with anything, call your father. You can call me too, but I am not good at fishing or working on a boat. I would hate to bother you and--"
"Mom," Claire cut in, adjusting her overalls. "Stop shivering and stammering around me. I am not a monster. If you are worried that I will go back to my old family, don’t be. I won’t look back. If I were holding on to the past, I would not be dressed like a traffic cone and dipping my toes in the sea food industry." She looked at her outfit and smiled. "I have accepted my new life. I think I might even like it more than the old one."
Her words seemed to make Donna breathe easier.
Claire waved goodbye, put her snack bag that had been packed by Wilder in the backseat, and then let Paddy into the car. She drove to the pier which was quiet. The silence did not mean a lack of people. Fishermen were setting sail already, and the whole place was busy.
In her orange bib overalls, floppy hat and squeaking rubber boots, Claire received a lot of attention. But most of her focus was on Paddy. The dog was bounding ahead, tail wagging excitedly. It seemed to be even more excited than she was.
The pearl shimmered as soon as she started the boat and set sail. She drove around for an hour, pretending to fish in ordinary waters before crossing. Paddy barked excitedly at the change.
Claire’s heart started picking up speed. She was both excited and afraid. As she steered toward the shore, she froze. Nearly one hundred people crowded the beach, each clutching buckets brimming with fish, crabs, and other kinds of sea food. Their faces were tense; eyes locked on her boat with an enthusiasm that scared her. The moment they noticed her, a wave of shouting erupted.
"That’s her!" someone screamed.
"Buy mine, buy mine!" another bellowed.
Buckets slammed against the sand, fists shook in the air, and the crowd surged forward like a tide ready to break.
Paddy growled low, pressing against Claire’s leg. Claire’s brain scrambled. Why have a lot of people gathered here? Did the family from yesterday tell everyone about our exchange?
She hesitated to leave the boat, deciding to calm the crowd first. She could clearly hear people begging her to purchase their sea food.
Claire raised her hands, waving her gloved hands. "Wait, wait! Let’s maintain order. No fighting..."
The crowd didn’t calm. In fact, two men started shoving each other, arguing over who had seen her first. A woman hurled a crab at the boat, missing Paddy’s head by inches.
"Bloody hell," Claire muttered, "Are they here to sell seafood or kill me with it?"