**Friday, 12th May**
Emily and James were finally getting married. The ceremony was in full swing when the toastmaster announced it was time for gifts. The brides parents went first, offering warm congratulations. Then came Jamess mother, Margaret Whitmore, clutching a large box tied with a pale blue ribbon.
Goodness, I wonder whats inside? Emily whispered excitedly to James.
No clue, he admitted, baffled. Mums kept it under wraps.
They decided to open the gifts the next day, once the wedding chaos had settled. Emily suggested starting with Margarets box. After untying the ribbon and lifting the lid, they peeked inside and were speechless.
Emily had noticed something odd about Jameshe never took anything without asking, not even a sweet.
Mind if I have the last biscuit? hed say sheepishly, eyeing the lone treat in the tin.
Of course! shed reply, puzzled. You dont need to ask.
Force of habit, hed mutter, unwrapping it quickly.
It wasnt until months later that Emily understood why.
When James introduced her to his parents, Margaret and Charles, his mother seemed welcoming at first. That illusion shattered at dinner. Margaret served two spoonfuls of mash and a single lamb chop per plate. James finished his and quietly asked for seconds.
You eat like a horse! Well never afford to feed you! Margaret scoffed, leaving Emily stunned.
When Charles asked for more, his wife piled his plate high. Emily pushed her empty dish away, shocked by Margarets blatant disdain for her own son.
Throughout the wedding planning, Margaret criticised everythingthe rings, the venue, the menu.
Why spend so much? You couldve found cheaper! shed snipe.
Emily finally snapped. Let us handle it! Its our money, our choice!
Hurt, Margaret stopped calling and even threatened not to attend.
Two days before the wedding, Charles pulled James aside. Help me with the gift, he said, leading him to the car.
Hed bought them a washing machinewithout consulting Margaret, who still thought it too extravagant. She vanished into the reception soon after.
The next morning, excitement turned to dismay as they opened Margarets box.
Tea towels? Emily muttered.
And socks, James added, holding up two pairs. Mum just grabbed whatever was lying about.
Days later, Margaret rang to interrogate James.
What did her family give you? Your mates?
None of your business, he said, hanging up, relieved.
A lesson remains: generosity isnt measured in price, but in respect. And Margaret had forgotten that long ago.
