“Eleanor Whitaker accused her sons wife of ruining every celebration,” she declared to Oliver, her voice echoing like a windchime in a hallway that stretched into the clouds.
Poppy wants to meet us tomorrow at a bistro or a tea room, Oliver announced cheerfully over the video call, his face flickering like a candle in a draft.
Good idea, but let Poppy herself pick the spot beforehand, so we dont keep swapping venues while we order, Eleanor replied calmly, her eyes halfclosed as if she were listening to distant church bells.
Weve already chosen, dont worry. A new eatery just opened in our neighbourhood; well try it tomorrow, the boy babbled on, his words floating like bubbles.
A new place fine, send me the address and tell me what time we should arrive with your father, Eleanor said resignedly, as if she were tying a ribbon around a dream.
Consider it sent, Oliver said, and the line went dark like a shutter closing.
Soon Eleanor received a message with the address and time. She had two daughtersinlaw and one soninlaw, and all relationships were fairly smooth, except for Poppy.
Eleanor kept her distance from the daughterinlaw, preferring quiet corners and brief greetings. The problem was that Poppy knew nothing of table manners and seemed alien to the sense of tact.
A few months earlier they had dined out as a family, and instead of pleasant conversation they endured Poppys whims.
Sometimes she disliked the dish, sometimes the waiter failed to smile, sometimes the menu seemed scant.
The last complaint forced them to change restaurants several times that evening.
Even then Poppy found something to gripe about. She ordered a salad and asked that no onion be added.
The salad, as requested, without onion, the waiter announced, setting the plate before Poppy.
What is that on the salad? she asked, her fingernailpainted a crisp whitepointing at a sprig of dill.
Its just a garnish, the young man replied, puzzled.
Did I ask for dill on my salad? Poppy pursed her lips, her voice a thin ribbon of irritation.
If youd like, Ill take it off; theres no dill in the salad itself, the waiter offered, thinking himself clever.
Take away the whole salad; youve ruined my appetite. Bring me a milkshake instead, Poppy commanded haughtily, turning dramatically toward the window.
All her whims were fulfilled, and no staff member flinched. Naturally, the evenings atmosphere wilted.
Poppy sat with puffy lips and a hurt expression while the rest ate and chatted, turning any outing into a torment. Even family gatherings were riddled with mishaps; her capriciousness poisoned every table.
At her aunts funeral, Poppy even sparked a scandal.
Who made these pancakes? Theyre rubbery! she shouted during the remembrance.
Darling, theres no need to shout; just dont eat them, Eleanor tried to hush her, feeling the weight of relatives sideways glances.
Whats left then? I cook better for my dog; the booze and juice are cheap anyway. Ugh, Poppy grimaced.
Were not here to eat but to remember, so please show some respect, Eleanor whispered gently.
Thats the point! We were called to remember, yet theres nothing to remember, Poppy muttered sadly.
It seemed the awkward episode had passed, but only in the fog of the dream.
Later, several relatives called Eleanor, indignant, telling her how Olivers wife had complained about the food.
Poppy felt ashamed and swore never to bring her daughterinlaw to such events again.
Eleanors birthday approached, and Poppy and Oliver planned to attend the family feast.
Knowing this, Eleanor announced she was ill and postponed the celebration indefinitely. She knew Oliver was due to leave on a work trip at the months enda moment shed been waiting for.
Eleanor had devised a clever plan to celebrate without Poppy. As soon as Oliver called his mother from another city, she began sending invitations to the other children. Of course, the troublesome daughterinlaw was not told about the family party.
Eleanors birthday unfolded in a joyous setting, free of disgruntled guests. No one had to endure comments about food or drink, and for the first time in two years she relaxed with her grandchildren.
But the bliss was shortlived; the next day the price of that happiness was paid.
A guest posted photographs of the celebration on social media, and they reached Poppys eyes.
Hello, Eleanor, did you celebrate your birthday? Poppy asked, her tone wounded.
Yes, why do you ask? Its been delayed for weeks, Eleanor replied, not denying.
Why wasnt I invited?
Oliver was away on business, and you would have been lonely alone
Its never lonely with you. Why didnt you wait for Olivers return? Poppy pressed suspiciously.
Because his wife spoils every celebration with her sour face! Eleanor blurted, then immediately regretted the words.
What? Im the one ruining it? I thought you were a good woman, and youre a snake, Poppy sobbed, hanging up.
A few hours later Oliver called his mother, his voice a storm of accusation.
Why do you treat my wife like this? What have we done to you? he demanded.
You havent done anything, but Poppy constantly spoils celebrations, and you cant put her in her place, Eleanor replied, laying out her cards.
How does she spoil them? Oliver asked, baffled.
With her tantrums and nitpicking. You cant even go to a restaurant or sit at home with her without complaint. Shes forever dissatisfied, Eleanor finally vented.
Shes simply straightforward and honest, unlike you, and she treated you like a mother, Oliver retorted.
Straightforwardness and rudeness are not the same. If you want me as a daughter, behave appropriately, not like a petulant child! Eleanor snapped.
Alright, Ill keep an eye on her and teach her proper behaviour. In return, promise youll always invite Poppy to celebrations, Oliver offered, his tone suddenly soft.
Fine, but only if you take responsibility. Well test it at the next gathering, Eleanor agreed, her heart tightening.
Of course, Poppy did not change; she tried to be restrained, but the effort fell apart.
Eleanor could only wave her hand and try to ignore the daughterinlaws outbursts. She no longer wished to quarrel with Oliver, so she chose the lesser of two evils
