Family Business

Persisting

Claire's pov

"What did I tell you about interrupting afternoon tea?" my uncle asked haughtily.

"I don't know. You have too many stupid rules about tea and you're always drinking it so I don't see why it matters what kind of tea time it is anyway," I continued to whine. I'm tired and annoyed with all things Italian right now and I just want to go home to America and I especially don't care about any stupid British traditions.

"Answer the question, Francesca," he replied dryly, without taking his eyes off his phone.

"UGGHHH!" I stomped my foot in frustration. I know I seem like a little kid having a tantrum but I don't care. "You know, there's a reason we threw your crappy British tea in the harbor in Boston."

"I'm waiting," he said, in a smug sing-song tone of voice, still glued to his phone.

"You said it's an egregious offense to the motherland, worthy of beheading. There I said it. Are you happy now?"

"Not particularly because you're interrupting afternoon tea. Now quit pestering me and go away before I notify the Queen." My uncle motioned with his hand to shoo me away.

"No, you need to put your phone down and listen to me," I whined some more.

In very exaggerated precise movements, he silently set his phone down, looked me in the eye and nodded curtly, indicating I could proceed.

"You have to help me get home to California so I can see Aunt Lexie," I stated firmly, hoping he would just give in to my demands. "Don't we have a private jet? I could take that."

"We..." my uncle gestured between the two of us, "don't have a jet. Your grandfather has a jet. You have a skateboard."

"Rude," I replied, sticking my tongue out at him.

"Accurate," he countered. "And good luck getting to the States on that," he scoffed."

"Fine, I'll fly commercial but only if it's first class." I offered up a very reasonable compromise, in my opinion.

"You're not flying anywhere. Now quit being an annoying brat and let me enjoy my tea."

"Oh, pardon me, your majesty," I said, in an awful, exaggerated English accent. "Are your crumpets getting cold? Whatever will the Queen mum say? Such a disgrace." I rolled my eyes and pretended to faint at the ghastliness of it all.

"You're trying my patience, Claire," my uncle warned. "March your unsophisticated ice tea drinking behind out that door," he said, pointing.

"No, I'm not leaving until you agree to let me go to California for a few weeks." I literally put my foot down to let my uncle know I meant business.

My uncle shattered my false bravado as he slowly rose from his seat to confront me. I looked up nervously as he towered over my tiny 4' 8" frame.

Crossing his arms over his chiseled chest, he responded sternly in an eerily calm monotone, "First off, you don't tell me what to do. I give the orders and you follow them. Secondly, you don't tell me no. When I tell you to do something, you obey without question or hesitation. Thirdly, you don't live in California anymore. This is your home now. Fourthly, you may not go to California to visit your aunt. I cannot ensure your safety enroute or upon arrival. Lastly, if you ever interrupt afternoon tea again for anything less than a life-threatening emergency, I will take you into your grandfather's study and spank the living daylights out of you. Am I clear?"

I gulped seeing the incredibly scary, no-nonsense look etched on my uncle's face as he narrowed his eyes at me, daring me to challenge his sovereignty.