“Go make up the shed for your grandfather! I wont have you embarrassing me in front of my friends!” snapped the mother-in-law.
“Emily dear, my friends from France will be arriving soon. Remember I said theyd be staying with us a few days?” The older woman stepped closer to where Emily sat hunched over her laptop.
The young woman lifted her tired eyes from the screen, forcing a polite smile and a nod. She was exhausted, and she hadnt even finished drafting the designs for her new clothing collectiona project shed poured herself into from scratch. There was always more to do, and even at home, every spare moment went to work. Her eyes burned, her vision blurring now and then. She needed a breakjust a few minutes outside on the garden swing, the crisp air clearing her head. But she had no idea her peace would be shattered within moments.
“Of course I remember. Theyre arriving tomorrow, arent they?”
“Actually, today,” came the curt reply, the older womans chin lifting sharply.
“Oh! Ive been so buried in work, I lost track of the days. Do you need help with anything? Cooking, cleaning?”
“Ive already done it all. Couldnt wait for you, could I? But never mind thatI came to ask you something else. Youll have to make up the shed for your grandfather. Let him stay out there a few days. Theres the garden loo just outside, and you can bring him his meals. Tell him to keep out of sight. Well say hes the gardener weve taken in. You understandmy friends are important, and I wont have them thinking were some sort of charity house.”
There was no request in her toneonly a command, delivered with such disdain that Emilys cheeks flushed hot.
“Margaret, how can you say such things? What shame could my grandfather possibly bring you?”
The older woman sniffed. “You heard me perfectly well. That old man is a mess. Cant even sit through a meal without coughing or spilling something.”
“Because he has trouble swallowingyou know that! And his hands tremble from all those years at the factory. But hes a good man, and I dont understand why youd speak of him that way. What does he have to do with your friends?”
“Emily, dont you raise your voice at me! After all Ive done for you? I gave you my sonraised him to be the man he isand this is how you repay me?”
No voice had been raised, but Margaret had a habit of twisting words to suit her. With another haughty tilt of her chin, she stormed out, the door slamming behind her.
Emily seethed. How could she demand such a thing? Worsehow could she speak of Grandad with such contempt? She decided then to speak with her husband, Charles, when he returned for lunch.
She checked on her grandfather, scolding him gently for whittling his wooden trinkets in the dim light.
“Just finishing this bit of carving, love,” he chuckled. “Ill rest after.”
“Once it was me staying up late to read, and you telling me off. Remember?”
He laughed, and for a moment, the weight lifted.
Charles arrived, but there was no chance to speak privatelyhis mother hovered, insisting he leave work early to fetch her friends from the airport.
“I cant, Mum. Emily has the car. Weve orders piling upmight even have to stay late.”
“You promised! After all Ive done for youis this how you treat me?”
With a huff, she flounced off. Charles, sensing his wifes tension, pressed gently.
“Whats wrong, love?”
“Your mothershes acting as if these guests are royalty. Today she ordered me to move Grandad to the shed. Charles, its unacceptable.”
He exhaled sharply, rubbing his neck. His mother had always overstepped, but this was too much.
“What did you say?”
“I refused. I wont treat him that way.”
“Youre right. Ill speak to her.”
But with work pressing, it fell to Emily to drive Margaret to the airport. The tension between them simmered.
“Wait in the car,” Emily said upon arrival. “Ive a work call.”
“Youll help with their bags!” Margaret snapped. “Charles would never leave me to manage alone.”
The French guests were insufferablesmug and lazy, letting Emily struggle with their luggage while they strolled empty-handed.
Back home, as Margaret showed them around, Emily overheard her boasting.
“All this is my Charless doing. Such a good sonhes sending me to the seaside this summer. Poor me, running this house alone while Emily sits at her computer. And when they have children, wholl bear the burden then? Me, of course!”
Her friends clucked sympathetically, and Emilys hands clenched. The woman barely lifted a fingerEmily and Charles managed the house, and Grandad helped too.
Then came the final straw.
“Whos that old man in the back room?” one guest asked.
“Oh, just some vagrant Charles took pity on. Lets him stay in exchange for gardening.”
Emilys blood boiled. She called Charles, demanding the guests leaveand Margaret with them.
He arrived shortly after, greeting the strangers he barely remembered before drawing Emily aside.
“Ill handle this,” he murmured.
After dinner, Charles helped Grandad to his feet.
“Let me, Mr. Whitmore. Its your house, after all.”
Margaret turned scarletshed forgotten the house belonged to him.
Emily stood. “Come, Ill make up the shed for you all. No spare rooms left.”
“What nonsense!” Margaret spluttered. “I prepared the guest room!”
“Ah, but Charless friend is arrivingthe one helping with the repairs. Hell need that room.”
Margarets friends exchanged glances, murmuring about hotels. Charles folded his arms.
“You wanted Grandad in the shedseems fitting for guests, doesnt it?”
As they hurried to leave, Margaret rounded on him. “How dare you humiliate me!”
“You started this, Mum. Grandad never turned you away, yet you scorned him. Perhaps its time you returned to your flat.”
Nose in the air, she stormed off to packthough they all knew shed been outmaneuvered.
The bitterness lingered, but Emily knew shed done right. Grandad had always protected hernow it was her turn. And Charles, bless him, had stood firm.
Some lessons had to be taught the hard way.
