My sweet Grandma always ensures she’s got fresh-baked cookies ready for us, never misses a birthday, and makes every family gathering feel special. There’s no one more deserving of a perfect birthday dinner than her.
So, when she mentioned wanting “just a small dinner out this year,” of course, I was fully on board. At 85, it was her big day, and she deserved a cozy evening with her closest family around. But, oh, how the rest of the family had different ideas!
Aunt Linda declared in our family group chat, “Grandma deserves something spectacular! Not just some ordinary dinner.” With that, everyone jumped on board, planning a grand outing to the poshest restaurant in town. Now, it seemed generous, but underneath it all, something sneaky was brewing.
The family turned our usual Sunday into quite a spectacle. I needed some air and stepped outside. That’s when I caught cousin Katie and her brother Mark in a hushed conversation.
Katie said conspiratorially, “Oh, Jade will handle it. She works at a bank! She’s single, no kids… what else is she spending on?”
Mark, with a dismissive chuckle, replied, “Right. We’ll keep cool till the bill shows up. She’ll cover it without a peep.”
I stood frozen. So, they’d schemed to throw a lavish birthday dinner on my dime, acting oblivious when the check arrived.
Mark wondered, “Should Grandma bring her purse, just in case?”
Katie giggled, “She always wants to pay. But our dear cousin will rush in to save the day — she’s such a hero.”
They were using Grandma, on her birthday, as a cover for their antics. Fine, I decided, let’s play along and see where this leads.
I fetched Grandma for the special night, taking her to the fanciest steakhouse we could find. Clutching her purse, Grandma smiled radiantly, truly thrilled.
The rest? Well, they acted like VIP guests at a Hollywood bash. Katie snapped countless selfies for “aesthetics”, while Mark, self-proclaiming as a “whiskey connoisseur,” ordered every premium drink available. Aunt Linda busied herself recommending the priciest dishes, ensuring everyone partook.
During this, Grandma softly said, “This is wonderful. I never imagined such a fuss.” Her genuine delight kept me hopeful, despite my anger simmering.
Watching them rack up the charges with extravagant orders, I kept things simple with a modest filet and house wine for Grandma and myself.
Uncle Joe teased, “Is that all? It’s a special day, indulge a bit!” I smiled, “This is just right, thank you.”
Then the awaited moment — the bill arrived. With Grandma momentarily away, the charade ignited.
“Oh my!” exclaimed Aunt Linda, gawking as if reading ancient script. “Look at that total… I’d help, but you know, the time-share from two years ago still haunts us.”
Katie busied with her nails said, “All my money’s on concert tickets. Music is my sanctuary.” Mark dramatized, “My poor dog’s vet visits are draining me dry. Literally, broke.”
Uncle Joe added, flashing his gold watch, “We figured you’d handle it, Jade. You’re almost mortgage-free, with a great job. You’re savvy. We’re here for moral backing.”
Aunt Linda then shamelessly injected, “It’s for Grandma. Her special day. We might not have many chances left.”
Assessing the bill, I saw their share topped $650 of the over $800 total. Despite boiling inside, Grandma’s return from the restroom stopped any confrontation.
Recognizing their ploy, I calmly excused myself to ‘tend to something’, and went to speak with the manager privately.
When I returned, there was Grandma alone, clutching her purse, fear in her eyes. The rest had disappeared.
“Are you alright, Grandma?” I asked, slipping into the seat beside her.
“Oh, thank goodness!” she sighed, seeing me. “They vanished, said something about the car… but it’s been ages. Are we all set? I can help if we’re short… I’ve saved a little…”
Wrapping an arm around her, I assured, “Don’t worry, Grandma. Everything’s sorted.”
As Miguel, the ever-patient server, returned with a complimentary dessert for Grandma — a luscious chocolate cake with a candle — the staff serenaded her sweetly, lifting her spirits again.
Driving Grandma home later, under a starry sky, she asked, “And what about the others?”
“Oh, they had to leave. It’s alright,” I chuckled lightly. “Honestly, I’m thrilled for this intimate time with you. Did you enjoy dinner?”
She nodded, though her eyes spoke of gentle hurt. Which only fueled my resolve more.
The next morning, their furious calls started. Aunt Linda was first, fuming about “harassment” from the restaurant—her words betraying their guilt.
“Three calls already! How dare they! Did you do this?”
Katie’s voice memo accused me of sabotaging the vibe. “We just went for the car! We were coming back! Why must you exaggerate?”
Mark texted, calling me a traitor for shaming family. His messages grew frantic as time passed.
Uncle Joe demanded this be a jest, with the restaurant threatening legal recourse. “Get this fixed!”
Oh, by the way, I missed a detail. The restaurant’s manager, Eric, is an old college buddy of mine.
While they sneaked out through the back, caught on camera, I’d ensured Eric received all their details — names, numbers, addresses. Now, he’s pursuing them for their share, collecting patiently — with interest if they delay.
Grandma called later, thankful for the outing, but admitted, “I wish your cousins hadn’t vanished like that. It was splendid until, well…”
Smiling, I imagined Katie’s reaction receiving Eric’s demand for payment. “Don’t let it trouble you, Grandma. Next year, it’s you and me — somewhere peaceful and lovely.”
And yes, I’m leaving my phone on silent.
