I prepared Christmas dinner for my son and daughter-in-law, gave him a brand-new car and her a $1,500 designer purse… and when it was their turn to give me a gift, my son looked me dead in the eye and said, “My wife told me to teach you a lesson, so no gifts,” while she stood there smiling—so I pulled a thick envelope out of my bag, slid it across the table, and said, “Perfect. Then I have one more gift for you both.”

“It’s okay. The chicken is a little dry, but it’s okay.”

William said nothing. He ate in silence, looking at his phone.

I tried to make conversation.

“How is work going, son?”

“Good, Mom.”

He did not look up.

“And you, Olivia? How is your job at the boutique?”

“Busy. You know, I sell handbags from exclusive brands. Today, I sold one for $3,000. Not just anyone can buy what I sell.”

She looked at me with intention.

“They’re for people with a certain level.”

I swallowed hard. The message was clear. I did not have that level. I was the retired seamstress with old tablecloths and dry chicken.

After dinner, while I was serving coffee, I heard Olivia whispering something to William in the living room. I approached with the coffee pot and managed to hear:

“Too big for her alone. We’re paying rent when your mother has a house. It makes no sense.”

William murmured something I did not understand. Olivia continued:

“You should talk to her. It’s your inheritance anyway. Why wait?”

My blood ran cold. Did they want my house? Was that the reason for the comments about it being too big for me?

I entered the living room, pretending I had heard nothing.

“Coffee?”

“No, thanks. Eleanor, we’re leaving now. William has to work early tomorrow.”

Olivia got up quickly, grabbed her designer purse, and headed for the door. William gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.