Lindsay’s idea of a retirement gift? An ambush.
My daughter-in-law—a woman who wears power like perfume—chose a restaurant where the napkins cost more than my weekly groceries. She drank champagne, ignored my stories about teaching, then staged a disappearing act, leaving me with a bill that could’ve funded a semester of college.
As the waiter hovered, I charged the $5,375 dinner to my credit card. Then I charged back.
Enter Joyce’s cleaning squad, who scrubbed Lindsay’s condo into a perfectly frustrating maze (who organizes canned goods by color?). Enter Sylvia, who drafted a letter implying legal consequences for “financial coercion.”
When Lindsay stormed in, I handed her an envelope. “Your options are simple,” I said. “Apologize. Repay. Or explain to your law firm why you scammed a retiree.”
The color drained from her face.
Two days later, her Instagram featured a gushing post about “family misunderstandings.” My savings account recovered. And Lindsay? She’s since asked for advice—on everything from pot roast to apologizing to my son for her behavior.
Retirement just got interesting.
