**Shadows of the Past: An Unexpected Turn**
Margaret Whitmore sat at her kitchen table, gazing out the window with a heavy heart. Her only son, William, had forgotten their wedding anniversary and hadn’t bothered to call. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she wondered how to fill the lonely day ahead. Then, silence was shattered by the ringing phone. *Finally! I shouldn’t have doubted him,* she thought, hurrying to answer. But when she lifted the receiver, it wasn’t William—it was her daughter-in-law, Emily.
“Margaret,” Emily began briskly, not letting her get a word in, “there’s something important we need to discuss.” What followed made Margaret gasp.
“Sold it without asking me?” she cried, barely containing her outrage. “William, how could you? I never thought you’d do this!”
“Mum, don’t overreact,” William shot back impatiently. “It just happened. The buyer made a good offer, and we needed the money. Emily’s starting her business. Were we supposed to wait weeks until you got back from your spa trip to ask about the cottage?”
Margaret’s voice trembled. “That cottage held so many memories, William! Yours too! You could’ve at least talked to me first.”
“Mum, I’ve said all I’m going to,” William muttered before hanging up.
Margaret was furious. Lately, she’d felt like an outsider in her own family—discarded, unwanted. She blamed Emily entirely.
Ever since William married Emily, he’d grown distant, ignoring Margaret’s wishes. Now this. The cottage—gone. When her late husband, Geoffrey, had insisted on gifting it to William as a wedding present, Margaret had protested. But Geoffrey wouldn’t budge. *”Why cling to it?”* he’d said. *”We’ve got the flat. Let the kids decide—keep it or sell. It’s the best we can give them.”*
Five years later, William announced the sale. Margaret knew Geoffrey would’ve been devastated.
The cottage had been idyllic—a two-story wooden house with carved window frames, a sprawling veranda, and a view of the lake nestled among pines. It was where she and Geoffrey had lived after their wedding, where she’d discovered she was pregnant. The peace, the fresh milk and eggs from local farms, the scent of wild strawberries—it had been paradise.
Emily, though, had never appreciated it. *”I’m a city girl,”* she’d say, adjusting her manicure. *”The countryside is dull—hot, dusty, full of bugs. I need air conditioning and proper shops.”*
After Geoffrey’s death, Margaret visited alone, inviting her friend Dorothy for quiet weekends away from London. *”It’s lovely here,”* Dorothy would remark. *”You could get a fortune if you sold. These places are in demand.”*
*”Never,”* Margaret would reply. *”It’s Geoffrey’s parents’ legacy.”* She dreamed of retiring there, maybe even renting out rooms to supplement her pension.
Emily, an accountant, had quit her job after having their son, James. *”I won’t work for peanuts,”* she’d declared. William, an engineer, supported her. But once James started school, Emily grew restless. *”Let’s sell the cottage and open a salon!”* she announced one evening. *”I’ve found the perfect location.”*
William hesitated. *”But it’s family history. What if we took out a loan?”*
*”No loans,”* Emily snapped. *”The cottage is valuable now. If we wait, it’ll lose value. Besides, it’s ours, not your mother’s.”*
By the time Margaret returned from her spa holiday, the cottage was sold, her dreams shattered. She resented Emily more than ever. *”She manipulated William,”* she confided to Dorothy. *”Trading a family home for a hair salon!”*
Dorothy sighed. *”Money rules everything these days. Still, we had such lovely times there.”*
Margaret avoided visiting, unable to bear Emily’s gloating about the salon’s success. *”Clients book months in advance!”* Emily boasted once, when Margaret dropped by for James’s birthday. *”One even offered to invest in two more branches!”*
*”Quite the fortune-teller,”* Margaret muttered.
Emily bristled. *”It’s called business. Meanwhile, we pay for your spa trips, your repairs, your gadgets—”*
Margaret left in tears. *”Why does she hate me?”* Emily complained to William later.
*”She needs purpose,”* he said. *”She had the cottage before. Now she’s just… stuck.”*
*”What about a retirement club?”* Emily suggested.
William shook his head. *”No—what if she worked at the salon?”*
Emily blinked. *”Your mother? As receptionist?”*
*”Just ask,”* he said with a smirk.
That evening, as Margaret sat brooding over William’s forgotten call, the phone rang again. *At last!*
But it was Emily. *”Margaret, I want you to work at the salon,”* she said bluntly.
*”What?”*
*”I need someone reliable to manage things while I expand. Good pay, plus free treatments—hair, facials, massages.”*
Margaret was stunned. *”I… I don’t know.”*
*”Think about it,”* Emily pressed.
Six months later, Dorothy barely recognised her in the supermarket. *”Margaret! You look ten years younger!”*
Margaret laughed. *”The salon—I feel useful again. Needed.”*
*”And the cottage?”* Dorothy asked carefully.
Margaret smiled. *”Some things belong in the past. I’m moving forward—helping the kids. Emily’s even expecting a little girl now!”* She hugged Dorothy and hurried off, stepping into her bright new life.
