“It’s for Mel, Mom,” he said evenly. “That’s my fiancée’s Christmas present.”
“Oh, I’m only teasing,” she replied, drawing out the word teasing as if to erase the sting.
She set the necklace back in the box and slid it toward me.
“Go on, dear. Try it on.”
I smiled for Jake’s sake as he fastened the clasp, but the warmth of the cocoa had left my hands, replaced by a cool prickle that crept up my arms. Linda’s words echoed in my head, light as air but sharp at the edges, the kind of remark you could pretend was harmless only if you didn’t look at it too closely.
She was already reaching for another cookie, chatting about holiday plans, as if she hadn’t just claimed ownership over something meant for me.
I tried to shake it off, telling myself it was just an awkward joke, the sort of offhand comment people make without realizing how it sounds.
But as the rose pendant rested against my collarbone, it felt heavier than gold should, as though it carried a meaning I wasn’t ready to name.
Later, I would understand that moment for what it was… not a joke, but a preview.
When we arrived at Linda’s house, she stood in the doorway like she’d been expecting us.
I was shaking, but I managed to speak.
“Linda, you need to return everything you took,” I said.
She crossed her arms, smirking in that way that always made me feel like a child being scolded.
“They were gifts for the family.
And I’m the matriarch of this family, don’t you forget it. People give gifts and I choose what stays where. If you don’t like it, maybe you shouldn’t have given me a key.”
“We gave you a key because we trusted you,” I said.
Jake’s jaw tightened so hard I could see the muscle ticking.
I knew that look, the one that meant he was holding back from saying something that would blow the whole thing up.
“Mom,” he said evenly.
“You know this isn’t right…”
She just shrugged, like we were discussing a parking spot, not thousands of dollars in stolen gifts.
“Life isn’t fair, Jakey. You’ll survive.”
We left before the conversation could turn into a screaming match.
The drive home was silent except for Jake’s fingers drumming on the steering wheel. I stared out the window, replaying her smug expression, the way she said “matriarch” like it was a crown she’d placed on her head.
That night, we sat in our almost empty living room, the dumpster visible through the window.
It felt like it was mocking us.
The only things we had now were the scattered items we’d bought before moving in together.
“We could take her to small claims court,” Jake finally said. “But it’ll be messy.”
“She looked proud, Jake,” I nodded slowly. “Actually proud, like she’d accomplished something.”
We were both silent for a moment, each lost in our own thoughts.
“She loves to brag, doesn’t she?
Every new handbag, every fancy meal… she just has to tell everyone about it, right?” I asked.
“Yeah… why?” My husband’s eyes narrowed.
“What are you thinking?”
“If she wants to show off, maybe we let her, but on our terms,” I said simply.
A week later, Jake called her.
“We want to make amends,” he told her, his tone warm enough to be believable.
“We’re having a small backyard barbecue. It’s just for family and a few of our friends.”
“Oh, that’s lovely!
I can bring the new espresso machine so everyone can try it!” she said, sounding excited. “Can I invite a few of my friends?”
“Of course, Mom,” Jake said, giving me a thumbs up.
“There’ll be more than enough food, you know how much Mel loves to feed people.”
Perfect.
The afternoon of the barbecue, we set my phone up in the kitchen, camera angled at the spot she’d use to hold court.
True to form, my mother-in-law strutted in with the espresso machine like it was an Olympic medal, bragging about the new “fancy” wine glasses she’d got. She spoke about the stand mixer that made her the “fluffiest cake ever!”
She even spoke about how my quilt kept her warm while she watched movies at night.
And the best part? We had it all on video.
The next morning, Jake and I sat at the dining table with our laptops open, our untouched coffee growing cold between us.
The anger had settled into something sharper… it was now purpose.
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