The Secret of the Promised Gift
In the grand hall of a restaurant in the heart of York, the wedding of Eleanor and William was in full swing. Guests laughed, music flowed like a river, and the newlyweds glowed with joy at the head of the table. When the time came for gifts, Eleanor’s parents stepped forward first, presenting a thick envelope filled with crisp banknotes. Next came William’s mother, Margaret. With quiet grace, she handed the couple a bouquet of roses and leaned in to whisper, “My real gift will come after the wedding.” “What gift?” Eleanor asked, glancing at her husband. “No idea what she means,” William admitted, shrugging with a bemused smile. But Eleanor had no inkling of the intrigue her mother-in-law had set in motion.
Long before the wedding, Margaret had hinted mysteriously, “I won’t give you some trifle. Don’t expect a gift at the wedding—but later, I’ll astonish you with something grand!” “Whatever you think best,” Eleanor replied, flushing slightly. “We don’t expect anything.” “Mum, don’t fret,” William reassured her. “We’re just glad you’ll be there.” “I won’t turn up empty-handed to my son’s wedding,” Margaret declared. “But let’s keep this between us, no chattering to relatives.” “Agreed,” William nodded, though Eleanor doubted Margaret would hold her tongue. She knew her mother-in-law’s finances were far from robust, but the couple had covered the wedding themselves, sparing their families. Eleanor’s parents, despite their modest means, had scraped together five thousand pounds for the newlyweds. At the wedding, Margaret gave only flowers, a gesture lost amid the toasts and dancing. Yet she dazzled with her speeches, basking in the guests’ attention.
“You can’t even imagine what I’ve planned for you,” Margaret murmured as the evening wound down, her eyes twinkling. “It’s a surprise that will leave you speechless—but not just yet.” “No rush,” William said gently, squeezing Eleanor’s hand. “I must admit, I’m curious,” Eleanor confessed. “Perhaps you know and aren’t telling?” “Honestly, I don’t,” William admitted. “But the gift isn’t what matters—it’s being together, happy.” Eleanor nodded, but curiosity gnawed at her. She tried coaxing a hint from Margaret, who only smiled cryptically. “If I spoil the surprise, it won’t be half as sweet. Be patient!”
Months passed, and the promised gift never materialised. What had once amused Eleanor now grated on her nerves. Eight months after the wedding, she tentatively reminded Margaret of her words. “So it’s only money you care about!” Margaret snapped, voice trembling with hurt. “You might’ve asked how I’m managing, if I need help!” “If you need anything, just say so—we’ll always support you,” Eleanor stammered, baffled by the outburst. But Margaret said no more, playing the wounded martyr and complaining to William about his wife’s “rudeness.” “Drop it with Mum,” he pleaded. “She made such a scene, I can’t bear it.” “I only asked out of curiosity—she’s the one who made it a mystery!” Eleanor protested.
After that, Eleanor avoided Margaret, speaking to her only when necessary. This only worsened matters. Margaret seized every chance to grumble to William: “Your wife fawned over me when she thought I’d lavish her with gifts. Now she avoids me, as if I’m beneath her!” “That’s not true,” William defended. “Then explain her behaviour!” Margaret retorted. “She hardly sets foot in my house, and when she does, it’s through clenched teeth.” Learning of this, Eleanor sighed. “Your mother’s impossible to please. First, my attention annoyed her—now my reserve. Soon she’ll fault me for blinking wrong!” “She thinks we only want her money,” William muttered guiltily. “Funny, since she’s given nothing in a year,” Eleanor pointed out. “My parents bring treats, vegetables from their garden—they never arrive empty-handed.” “Are you saying Mum does?” William bristled. “She’s my only mother—respect her.” “Fine,” Eleanor shot back. “But she doesn’t just come empty-handed—she leaves with containers of food I’ve cooked.”
Though the gift became a forbidden topic, the quarrels persisted. Margaret, as if fanning flames, found endless faults with her daughter-in-law. Yet to friends and family, she played the doting mother-in-law. “We bend over backwards for her, and what thanks do we get?” she lamented. “I never interfere, I give generous gifts—why, I even planned to give her my great-grandmother’s antique ring! See how she repays me!” Her listeners nodded sympathetically, taken in by her performance.
On the eve of their first anniversary, Margaret revived the promise. “Prepare for something extraordinary!” she announced upon receiving their invitation to a quiet dinner at a bistro. “Perhaps it’s too much trouble?” Eleanor ventured. “I’ll consider your opinion—then do as I please,” Margaret replied tartly. William, hearing of this, lost his temper. “Must you always argue with her? Let her give what she wants—or nothing!” “Precisely,” Eleanor retorted. “We’ve yet to ‘use’ her last grand gift—this one’s unnecessary.”
In the end, the couple agreed to drop the matter. For their cotton anniversary, they invited only close family and friends. Eleanor’s parents brought an embroidered tablecloth, fine linen, and towels. Friends gifted a porcelain set and crystal glasses. Margaret arrived with an ornate card, delivering a speech that dragged on for fifteen minutes—her sole contribution to the evening, though she expected applause. “If you mention gifts, we’ll fight again,” William warned Eleanor afterward. “I wasn’t going to,” she said wearily. “Let’s just rest.”
But Eleanor’s silence didn’t last. A month later, Margaret hinted broadly for a costly smartphone ahead of her birthday. “Are we to fulfill her shopping list now?” Eleanor asked dryly. “She needs a new phone, and we can manage it,” William reasoned. “You object?” “No,” Eleanor said tightly. “But my mother’s birthday is next month—gifts should be fair.” William sighed, tallying expenses. In the end, Margaret received a modest phone—and erupted in fury. Convinced Eleanor had turned William against her, she vowed revenge for such “stinginess.”
