“Your family wont be treating us like a hotel anymore. This isnt their holiday home,” my wife muttered, exhausted from the constant demands of guests.
No one was in a rush, but as soon as Emily earned her psychology degree, I wasted no time proposing. Shed been dreaming of it for ages. We kept the wedding modestjust close family. My Aunt Margaret and Uncle George suggested we use the savings and gifts to build our future together rather than splurge on a single day.
And so, I became the owner of a small plot just outside York. Emilys parents sold their car and handed us the money for the buildno need for it in the city anyway.
Emily was a little nervous about country living. The idea of well water, power cuts, raising chickens, and chopping firewood didnt sit well with her. I laughed and reassured herthis wasnt the 1800s. For less than a city flat, wed have all the modern comforts and plenty of space.
The house went up surprisingly fast. My promotion at work helped, and Emily had already started online consultations. Our parents chipped in where they could, and Aunt Margaret and Uncle George didnt hold back either.
Margaret dropped by the construction site often under various pretensesrecommending paint colors, the perfect chandelier. Her intentions were good, but over time, Emily felt our personal space shrinking. Then, one evening, George turned up unannounced, settling into our nearly finished home without warning. Hed been nearby on business and decided to stay the night.
If hed given us a heads-up, it mightve been bearable. But the shock of finding him there left Emily uneasyshe started checking every room before entering, just in case.
“Children, take your things that way,” Margaret directed, herding the kids toward the spare bedroom. “Hurry up, or your food will spoil while you dawdle! Emily, clear some shelves in the fridgetheyll need space for their groceries.”
Emily thought it odd theyd brought their own food, but maybe they planned to share.
“Come on, settle in properly,” Margaret fussed. “Emily will sort you outmake yourselves at home!”
George was already lounged in the living room, flipping through channels. He asked me to pour him some whiskey, recalling a fine bottle Id been gifted at work. I returned with it and two glasses.
“Oliver, let the women handle thingscome join us!” George called.
By the time everyone had unpacked, it was late. Emily scurried about, fetching slippers for guests, extra blankets in case they got cold, lighter jackets if they overheated. She cringed at Sarahs remark that they hadnt come for just a short stay. Who celebrates a housewarming for a whole week? Worse, theyd commandeered the room Emily had planned as a nurserywhile the actual guest room sat empty upstairs.
“Emily, need a hand?” I asked.
“Finally, someone asks,” she muttered. “Dont expect help from them.”
“Theyre not that bad,” I grinned, peeling potatoes.
“Thanks,” she smiled, winking at me.
By lunch, the family grew bored and wandered into the woods. Later, they drifted back to their rooms”for a rest,” as Margaret put it.
“Oliver, knock if were not up by five. Well gather for supper at six,” she said, patting my cheek before retiring.
“Try the fish pie,” Emily offered Sarah. “Its lightlike a pâté crossed with soufflé.”
“Oh no, William cant have that, and Sophies allergic to salmon!”
“Theres salmon in it?” Emily paled.
“All red fishhe reacts badly,” Sarah said, shaking her head. “Whats this, then?”
“Sweet-and-sour chicken wings.”
“Ah. William, fetch the roast turkey from the fridgeits wrapped in foil.”
William obediently retrieved it, unwrapped it, and began slicing.
“Speaking of groceries, Emily, youll need a second fridge,” Margaret said brightly. “This ones too small for three families. I found a good dealIll send Oliver the link.”
“Why would we need another fridge? And three families?” Emily blinked.
“Well
