Claire returned home happy. She was even humming a cheerful tune when she pulled into her driveway, only to find it crowded. There were many more expensive cars than should have been present. Cautiously, she made her way into her house and stopped in the doorway.
The house she was walking into was unrecognizable. Mrs. Ashford, Mr. Ashford and Hugo Ashford had descended on it like a well-organized army. Boxes of old things were being rolled out of the house.
Apollo himself was directing traffic, pointing to the bedroom he claimed. What was supposed to be a simple move-in looked more like the installation of a luxury suite. The old rug in the living had been rolled up and replaced with a thick, fluffy carpet that swallowed footsteps.
A brand-new coffee table, polished to a mirror shine sat proudly in the middle of the living room. Its corners were padded with gleaming safety foam. Everything that had a sharp corner in the house had been padded similarly.
When she looked at the wall, Claire realized the small television she rarely watched was gone, replaced by a monstrous screen that nearly covered the entire wall. A horrified gasp escaped her mouth. Who needed a television that big? This was not a cinema for crying out loud!
She walked forward and peeked into Apollo’s room. Another gasp poured from her lips. It looked like the five-star hotel suite she had talked about when Apollo begged to move in! A big bed that could swallow three people. Silk sheets. Curtains heavy enough to block out the sun, and an open wardrobe stocked with clothes that screamed money.
There was a scent in the air. Claire had no words to describe it other than calling it the smell of money. Sweet and crisp.
She turned around and walked to the living room. Mrs. Ashford was pacing from left to right before the wall, her sharp eyes focused on Claire’s picture frames. "Donna darling, these picture frames are cute but even you have to admit that they are ancient." She tapped the wall with a manicured nail. "Try to imagine these pictures in frames of gold..."
Donna suddenly looked frightened, like a rabbit that had been cornered by a wolf.
Mrs. Ashford laughed. "...Or silver, I am not picky. The goal is to bring this room together. We bought the children a villa in our part of town, but Apollo says Claire will not allow to move there. She is a proud woman your daughter, and rightly so. Now, this is all we can do for them. We have to find a balance they can both accept."
Claire turned left and saw Mr. Ashford talking to her father, Victor. Mr. Ashford was gesturing at the battered old truck parked outside. "That thing has seen better days," he declared. "I hope I am not over stepping, but I think we should replace it with something better. As Claire’s father, you will be driving her around often. Maybe she will also have a need for a truck someday, especially considering her new line of work. I will sleep better knowing that you are both using a truck younger than my youngest grandson and not one as old as Apollo."
"Apollo is seventeen! I am going to have to call the sheriff on Claire!" Victor joked.
While the men laughed Claire’s ears sharpened to catch her grandmother’s voice. Wilder was in the kitchen with Hugo, shamelessly pointing out the kitchen equipment she wanted replaced. "That mixer, and the oven. I want something as expensive as what you have in that palace your family lives in."
Claire winced.
"Not for me, for Claire," Wilder continued. "Most of the mothers in this town are baking moms. We also prefer to cook healthy meals for our children, none of that boxed crap Heimi raised Claire on. And she had the guts to call herself a stay-at-home mom! What stay at home mom can’t boil an egg for her child? She should have come out and checked the unemployed and lazy box."
Claire sighed. Somehow, she managed to walk by unnoticed and made it to her bedroom for a bath. By the time she made it downstairs again, everyone was sitting at the new, bigger dinner table.
Wilder and Donna served the meal. The Ashfords who were expected to pick at their meal and claim to be full after a few bites, surprised everyone by devouring their meal with gusto. A platter of crabs cracked open under their refined hands. Garlic chili shrimp vanished in minutes, and bowls of rice were scraped clean.
Claire watched, very amused as Mrs. Ashford looked at the empty crab tray with grievance.
"I hate to be that guest, but do you have more of that crab chili crab sauce?" Hugo asked.
Wilder nodded, her face flush with the joy only a chef could feel on seeing their food being loved and appreciated. "I have more in the kitchen. There are six jars in the fridge. Take as many as you like. Claire brings home premium crabs almost everyday. If your hotel ever needs quality crabs, just give her a call." Her smile faded, replaced with a sharpness. "Business is business. Never again will my granddaughter be milked by greedy, selfish, capitalists who use the identity of family."
The Ashfords froze, each calculating Wilder’s words or re-thinking their assumption of Claire’s work.
"Just today, she sold over two hundred thousand worth of premium crabs." Donovan bragged. The old man, who had fainted earlier that evening, was giddy and partially drunk. "My granddaughter is the queen of the sea. Before she casts a net, the fish jump in on their own. Buyers will be chasing her down the street soon. Just you wait and see. My little sea queen will rule the fishing world."
Wilder stuffed a bun into his mouth. "Silence, Don. Sleep off the excitement."
Apollo looked at Claire with that sly, scheming smile, she was familiar with. "Claire, you have been keeping secrets from me. You had such good, high quality products all this while and didn’t think to share them with me?"
Claire smirked, leaning back in her chair. "Not everything is meant for you, Apollo."
His family laughed, but Hugo was already making inquiries on his phone through text. Griffin Ashford was making calculations in his mind. Every business person at the table, except for Victor and Donna, were making calculations.