Emily and James were getting married. The wedding was in full swing when the toastmaster announced it was time for the gifts. First, the brides parents gave their congratulations, then came Jamess mum, Margaret Smith, carrying a large box wrapped in pale blue.
“Wow, what dyou reckons inside?” Emily whispered excitedly to James.
“No clue. Mums been dead secretive about it,” he admitted, shrugging.
They decided to wait until the next day to open the presents, once the wedding chaos had settled. Emily suggested starting with his mums gift. They untied the ribbon, lifted the lidand froze in shock.
For ages, Emily had noticed something odd about Jameshe never took anything without asking, not even the smallest thing.
“Mind if I have the last chocolate?” hed murmur, eyeing the lone truffle in the box.
“Course not!” Emily would laugh. “You didnt even need to ask.”
“Just how I was raised,” hed say sheepishly, unwrapping it.
It took a few months before Emily understood why.
One day, James introduced her to his parentsMargaret and Robert Smith. At first, his mum seemed pleasant, but the illusion shattered at dinner.
Each guest got a plate with two spoonfuls of mash and a tiny meatball. James finished quickly and quietly asked for seconds.
“Always stuffing your face like theres no tomorrow! Cant ever fill you up, can we?” Margaret snapped, leaving Emily stunned.
When Robert asked for more, Margaret beamed and piled his plate high. Emily kept eating, horrified by the blatant favouritism.
Later, during wedding planning, Margarets true colours showed. Everything was “too dear”the rings, the venue, the menu.
“All this fuss! Couldve done it cheaper!” she grumbled.
Finally, Emily snapped.
“Were handling it ourselves! Its our money, our choice!”
Offended, Margaret clammed up and even threatened to skip the wedding.
Two days before, Robert turned up unexpectedly.
“Son, help me with this,” he said, leading James to the car.
Hed gone rogue and bought them a washing machinesick of his wifes fussing. Confession: theyd rowed because Margaret thought even a wedding gift for her own son was “too much.”
On the day, Margaret showed up after allin a posh dress, by taxi. She behaved, handed over the big box, then melted into the crowd.
The next morning, Emily and James eagerly opened itonly for excitement to sour.
“Towels?” Emily muttered, pulling out the first.
“And socks,” James sighed, holding up two pairs of fuzzy wool ones. “Dad was right Mum just grabbed whatever was lying about. Honestly, no gift wouldve been better.”
But it didnt end there. Days later, Margaret rangfishing for gossip.
“Go on then, what did Emilys mum give you? And Uncle Geoff? And her mates?” she pressed.
James refused to play along.
“Mum, thats none of your business. Were happy with what we got.”
Then he hung upwithout feeling guilty for the first time ever.
Life teaches us: the price of a gift means nothing about the givers heart. But respect and love show in the little things. And sadly, Margaret had none left to give.
