By eight o'clock, Delilah had been awake for several hours. A part of her looked forward to when the children would all be teenagers, and very likely wishing to sleep until noon or later. But for now, her days began usually at five, which was plenty of time for her to help Alfons prepare breakfast for the family, plus some extra.
She loaded down several serving platters with some pancakes, sausage and bacon, and scrambled eggs, carefully placing them on a rectangular, deep-set tray, along with a stick of margarine and the bottle of syrup. There was roughly a fourth of the bottle left, enough for four people at least, and there was a new one waiting in the cabinet, so they decided to just give them that bottle.
William offered to help her carry it up, to which she gave him a dry look. She couldn't beat him at arm wrestling anymore, but that was only because he grew stronger. She was just as strong as ever, and more than enough to carry the tray.
It crossed her mind that perhaps she should grow accustomed to the notion of wearing pants instead of the long dresses and skirts she still preferred as she looked at the stairs. After a moment's consideration, and some careful, one-handed balancing of the tray, she tucked the side of her skirt up a bit, down and behind the waistband, just enough to pull it up a little to not catch her feet as she climbed the four flights.
At the top, she untucked it and smoothed it down before approaching the door, and carefully pressed the doorbell.