My mother-in-law kept showing up with her whole clan for a free barbecue.
When they came empty-handed again on the Fourth, I served them a lesson instead.
My husband of seven years, Wade, our two kids, and I live in the countryside in Indiana.
My mother-in-law, Juliette, constantly shows up with her daughters and grandkids for barbecues.
Every time, she acts like she owns the place.
She rearranges my things.
She moves my furniture.
She bosses me around and tells me how I should live my life.
We’re not stingy.
But they never bring anything with them.
Everything always comes out of our pockets.
By my own count, they had eaten through thirty-two hundred dollars of our groceries since March.
They expect us to cook for them.
They never even say “Thank you.”
They leave trash everywhere.
Last Memorial Day, they finished two briskets and forty ears of corn, left their paper plates in my flower beds, and Juliette asked why I hadn’t made dessert.
Wade just shrugged and said, “That’s how Mom is.”
They act like it’s their right.
That day, she called again.
She didn’t ask.
She announced that they were coming for the Fourth of July with the whole gang and staying the entire weekend.
I’d had enough.
Friday afternoon arrived with the subtlety of a marching band.
Three cars pulled into our driveway, disgorging the familiar cast of characters.
Juliette, in her oversized sun hat.
Her two daughters, Tammy and Carla, with their arms full of nothing but Louis Vuitton purses.
Six children who immediately began treating my lawn like their playground.
Or rather, battleground!
“Annie!”
Juliette swept me into a hug that smelled like expensive perfume and entitlement.
“I hope you’ve got everything ready. We’re absolutely starving!”
She was past me before I could answer.
In our front hall, she planted both hands on the old oak sideboard Wade’s father had built and dragged it three feet to the left.
“It blocks the flow,” Juliette said.
I stood in my own doorway and smiled.
Every time she moved that sideboard, she checked its bottom drawer first.
I had never understood why.
Our kids watched from the stairs, silent, holding the same paper flags they had made for the parade.
Tammy dropped her Louis Vuitton on my couch and asked what time dinner was.
Carla was already opening my refrigerator.
Wade was still at the hardware store, and I had told him not to hurry.
Juliette had no idea I had spent three weeks planning this weekend.
My Mother-in-Law Brought Her Entire Family to My Farmhouse Every Weekend for Free Food — So on the Fourth of July, I Served Them Something They Never Expected
Part 2 — The Final Ending
Juliette had no idea I had spent three weeks planning this weekend.
And she certainly had no idea that the old oak sideboard she kept moving around my hallway was about to expose a family secret Wade had never known.
“Annie, sweetheart!” she called from the kitchen. “Where are the steaks? I hope you didn’t buy those cheap ones again.”
I smiled.
“Actually, Juliette, we’re doing things a little differently this year.”
She turned around.
“What does that mean?”
“It means dinner will be ready when everyone has done their part.”
Tammy laughed from the living room.
“Oh, Annie. You’re always making things complicated.”
“Not this time,” I replied.
I walked to the refrigerator and opened the door.
Inside were six bottles of water, a carton of milk, and the ingredients for our children’s breakfast.
Nothing else.
Carla stared.
“Where’s the food?”
“At the grocery store.”
Juliette blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“The grocery store,” I repeated pleasantly. “You know, that building where people exchange money for food.”
