June believed the worst days were largely over after raising her granddaughter by herself when her son passed away. However, she learned that some people were much worse than anyone could have imagined when her ex-daughter-in-law abruptly returned with an envelope and a costly gown.
My son Mark accomplished something that I was never able to do sixteen years ago, when I was 56 years old and constantly bouncing between little rental apartments.
He purchased a small, one-story home for his wife, Melissa, and their young daughter, Emma, when he was 29. He was a hard-working construction worker with lofty aspirations.
Over coffee in that small kitchen, he said to me, “Mom,” “I want to add rooms, construct a porch, and possibly even install a swing set in the backyard. I’ll even construct a room for you above the garage.
I was ecstatic, and as this was a significant occasion, he had prepared a basic will as a precaution. Emma would inherit the house if something happened.
But he died in a construction accident before his aspirations could come true. Emma had just turned two.
Melissa greeted guests at the burial with the iciness of a winter storm, while I held Emma’s tiny hand.
I saw her packing her suitcase when we got home. At the time, she was 27. She flung her set of house keys at me and whispered, “Take care of her,” when I attempted to stop her at the door. I watched from outside as she got into a fancy automobile with a happy man sitting in the front seat.
Emma and I stood in the driveway while they drove off, the engine purring.
I didn’t see her again after that. In order to put food on the table and pay the mortgage, Emma and I moved into Mark’s tiny house and took on every job I could find.
I babysat the children of my neighbors, cleaned houses until my knees hurt, and waited tables at a nearby cafe until my feet hurt.
Time went by like pages spinning. I had more wrinkles than I could count and a back that hurt every morning as I grew older into my 70s.
However, I continued to stay energetic, and Emma developed into a stunning young woman. She was considerate and friendly.
Even though I knew all of her acquaintances were from far wealthier backgrounds, she never even asked for much.
She told me she loved me all the time and somehow made secondhand clothing look fashionable.
However, I was aware that every high school girl aspired to feel stunning for their senior prom.
I inquired about her plans to attend a few weeks prior. “Don’t worry, Grandma,” she murmured quietly, shaking her head. I don’t have to leave. In any case, we cannot afford a dress. I’ve previously examined Goodwill. Nothing will be effective.
She made an effort to appear casual, but I could tell it was painful for her, and I detested any time she had to be without. This girl was worthy of a spotlight moment.
As a result, the next day I discovered a lovely, reasonably priced, silky blue satin fabric at a nearby vintage store.
I carried my ancient sewing machine to the kitchen table and started working on her gown that evening after finishing my shift at the diner.
Emma objected, claiming that I had already put in too much labor for her, but that I wasn’t too worn out to please her.
I worked until my fingers cramped and my eyes moistened, pouring love into every seam.
Emma turned slowly in front of the mirror as she tried on the completed dress in our small hallway the night before prom.
Tears filled her eyes as the fabric caught the light just perfectly, shimmering softly.
She muttered, “It’s the most gorgeous dress I’ve ever seen.” “Thank—”
But just then, our front door was rocked by a forceful knock.
I froze as I opened it. Melissa was grinning broadly as she stood on our porch. Time had passed, and I could see it in her face. Even at 43, she still had a gorgeous appearance. Better than ever, in fact.
Her hair was groomed flawlessly, and her makeup was faultless. She swept in without invitation, her high-end heels clicking on the wooden boards.
I noticed that she had a shiny clothing bag slung over her arm.
She yelled, “My baby girl!” and gave Emma a passionate embrace.
Perplexed, Emma stood rigid in her arms. Just as perplexed, I watched from the doorway.
She must not be this stupid. Since she left her daughter behind, she hadn’t even tried to get in touch with us.
However, she continued to be enthusiastic and gave Emma the garment bag with a dramatic flourish.
She exclaimed, “Here you go!” Emma, however, unzipped it and took out a shimmering silver gown as she just began. In three months, it most likely cost more than I earned.
She purred and held out the dress, saying, “I brought you a special gift.” She glanced at my granddaughter and her handmade dress. “I believe I arrived right on schedule. Tomorrow is prom, right? At the boutique, I overheard other girls discussing it.
“Ye-yes, it’s tomorrow,” stumbled Emma.
“Well, I’m glad I came. She wrinkled her nose at the blue outfit and spat, “You can’t wear that, sweetheart.” “You’ll be laughed at by everyone. This is an actual prom dress.
For a second, I wanted to think she had returned to reestablish a relationship with her daughter, but I knew something was off.
Without a doubt, the gown was stunning, and Emma would look stunning.
My granddaughter bit her lip as she glanced at the luxury item and her image in the mirror.
Melissa dropped an envelope from her purse over our old carpet before I could persuade her to at least try it on.
We both saw Emma’s name printed in bold letters across it as she bent to pick it up. Without giving it back to Melissa, she questioned, “What is this?”
According to my ex-daughter-in-law, “Oh, it’s nothing you need to concern yourself with now,” she handed it to me.
However, Emma started to open it, so I put on my reading glasses and moved closer. There were legal documents—that is, documents that looked official and included seals and signatures.
“What is this, Melissa?” With a shiver of fear running up my spine, I asked.
Melissa paused her smile. She turned at Emma and said, “June, I can explain,” in a low, enticing voice. “This house was intended for us, sweetie. It was purchased for our family by your father. Correct?”
“I guess,” Emma said, blinking slowly in response.
“Don’t you think I should take care of it right away? Melissa continued, thrashing her arms, “I can sell this place and move us somewhere better if you sign those papers.” “Somewhere glitzy and new. You don’t have to remain stranded in this tiny village with this garbage. At last, you and I may lead the lives we deserve.
The room fell silent. I came to see that Melissa’s intentions were to steal from her, not to get back in touch with her girl.
Emma clutched the papers with shaking hands. However, she spoke in a calm voice. “You believe you are my mother because of a dress? You believe that, after raising me, Grandma did everything in her power to pay for and improve this house over the years. By yourself?”
“Sweetheart, that’s not—”
“You left me,” yelled my granddaughter. And to maintain whatever charade you’re putting on, you most likely need money. You’re at the wrong spot, then. I live here. I’m eighteen now. All the family I need is Grandma.
Emma ripped the papers to pieces with those words.
Melissa’s smile vanished as she gazed at the fragments on our floor. Her features were distorted into a hideous shape by rage. She snarled, “Ungrateful brat,” and grabbed her purse. “You’ll regret this when you’re stuck in your 20s with no money and taking care of a dying old woman.”
I wanted to slap her, but I was too busy to do so.
As she moved to the door and slammed it behind her, her heels clattered like gunshots as she scooped up the garment bag.
At that moment, I felt my granddaughter’s arms encircle me securely.
Prom night arrived the following evening. Emma smiled resolutely at me as she adjusted her blue dress in front of the mirror.
“Ready, Grandma?”
We went outside to my old sedan once I had my car keys. I wished her well as I dropped her off at the school.
A few hours later, sometime after midnight, I heard our driveway’s gravel crunching. I went out to meet her after one of her friends had driven her back.
Emma ascended the porch steps, and although her mascara was smudged and her curls were loose, her grin was enough to brighten any gloomy night.
“How was it, honey?”
“I was the most beautiful girl there,” she said into my shoulder as she gave me a hard hug. “Due to you.”
She filled me in on everything while we sat in the porch rockers.
It seems that her friends had praised her attire as exceptional and memorable rather than making fun of it. She had spent the entire evening dancing and laughing with them.
She remarked, “This was the best night ever,” and then she went inside to sleep. I lingered outside and thought about what lay ahead.
The rest of her life began on this night. Emma was going to college in the fall with a half scholarship to study architecture, but she would stay with me.
I’d brought up another decent child who didn’t worry about money or the demands of appearances after all my sacrifices. This was her home, and she was exactly like Mark.
That was something I hoped Melissa wouldn’t try to mess with again.
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