Then one day, Ethan came home, sweat dripping from his forehead. His shirt was soaked, and he looked like he’d been running for hours.
“Ethan, what happened?” I asked, walking over to him as he plopped down on the couch.
“Mrs. Johnson asked me to mow her lawn,” he panted. “She said she’d pay me twenty bucks.”
I glanced out the window at Mrs. Johnson’s yard. It was huge, easily the biggest in the neighborhood. Ethan had mowed the entire thing. It looked perfect, lines neat and clean.
“Two days,” Ethan said, wiping his face with his shirt. “It took me two whole days. But she said she’d pay me when I was done.”
I smiled at him, proud. Ethan was a good kid, always looking to help out. He’d been saving up for weeks to buy a food processor for his grandma’s birthday. The twenty dollars would help him get a little closer.
“Did she pay you yet?” I asked, still looking out the window.
“No, but I’m sure she will,” Ethan said, his voice hopeful.
I nodded. Mrs. Johnson might be distant, but stiffing a kid out of twenty bucks? Even she wouldn’t do that. Or so I thought.
A few days passed, and I noticed Ethan was quieter than usual. He wasn’t his usual cheerful self, and it worried me.
“What’s wrong, honey?” I asked one evening as he sat by the window, staring at Mrs. Johnson’s house.
“She hasn’t paid me yet,” he said softly.
I frowned. “Well, have you asked her?”
Ethan nodded. “Yeah, I went over yesterday, but she told me she was busy and to come back later. So I went again today, and she told me… she told me to get lost.”
“What?” I gasped, shocked. “What do you mean ‘get lost’?”
Ethan looked down at his hands, his voice shaking just a little. “She said I should be grateful for the lesson I learned from mowing her lawn. That learning to work hard was the real payment. She said I didn’t need the money.”
My heart dropped, and my anger rose. This woman had tricked my son into doing two days of hard work and then refused to pay him. How dare she?
I clenched my fists, trying to stay calm for his sake, but inside I was boiling. “Don’t worry about it, honey. I’ll take care of it.”
Ethan gave me a small, trusting smile. But inside, I was already planning what I’d do next. Mrs. Johnson might think she was teaching my son a lesson, but she was about to learn one herself.
I sat on the porch the next morning, watching Mrs. Johnson pull out of her driveway, as polished as ever. The decision had been brewing inside me for days, and now, I felt no hesitation.
My son deserved justice, and if Mrs. Johnson wasn’t going to do the right thing, then I’d make sure she learned a lesson of her own. I got to making calls and leaving voice messages.
Around an hour later, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Mark, my old friend from high school, who now ran a small landscaping business. I explained the situation in a quick, hushed tone.
“So, you want me to… trim her hedges into weird shapes?” he chuckled on the other end of the line.
Mrs. Johnson took immense pride in her yard, especially her hedges. Every Saturday morning, without fail, she’d be out there, pruning the bushes with meticulous care.
She had them shaped into perfect, symmetrical forms that gave her house a neat, upscale appearance. To her, those hedges weren’t just plants—they were a statement.
“Exactly. Nothing destructive. Just enough to give them a funny look. She’s proud of that yard, and I want her to notice.”
Mark was quiet for a moment, then laughed again. “You’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll swing by later today.”
Step one of the plan was set. Now, for step two. I grabbed my laptop, found a local mulch delivery service, and called them up, doing my best to mimic Mrs. Johnson’s crisp, no-nonsense tone.
“Hi, this is Katherine Johnson. I need three large truckloads of mulch delivered to my address. Yes, the whole driveway. Thank you.”
I hung up, feeling a strange thrill. My heart pounded in my chest. Was I really doing this?
Yes. Yes, I was.
Then, I left a few messages for my neighbors. While asking for small favors, I made sure to casually mention what Mrs. Johnson had done to Ethan.
Later that afternoon, three giant trucks rolled up and began unloading piles of mulch onto Mrs. Johnson’s driveway. I watched from my porch as the workers carefully emptied their loads, blocking her entire driveway with massive mounds of dark brown mulch. There was no way she was getting her car in tonight.
By then, the neighborhood had started to buzz. I saw a few of the neighbors peeking through their windows, whispering to each other. Word had gotten around about what Mrs. Johnson had done to Ethan, and now, they were seeing my revenge unfold right in front of them.
I could feel the tension building. Everyone was waiting for Mrs. Johnson to come home. So was I.
At around 6:30 p.m., her shiny black car turned the corner and pulled onto our street. As soon as she saw the mulch, her car screeched to a halt. She sat there for a moment, probably in shock. Then she slowly rolled forward, coming to a stop in front of the pile blocking her driveway.
I leaned back in my chair, sipping my tea, and waited.
Mrs. Johnson got out of the car, her face a mix of confusion and anger. She marched over to the hedges first, staring at the strange shapes they’d been trimmed into. She ran her hands through her perfectly styled hair and pulled out her phone, probably to call someone to fix it.
A few of the neighbors had gathered across the street, pretending to chat, but really watching her reaction. They exchanged quiet laughs and glances. Mrs. Johnson looked around, realizing she was being watched, and her eyes landed on me.
She stormed across the street, her heels clicking loudly on the pavement.
“Did you do this?” she snapped, her voice tight with rage.
I smiled, taking another sip of my tea. “Me? I don’t know anything about landscaping or mulch deliveries.”
Her face turned bright red. “This is unacceptable! You think this is funny?”
I set down my cup and stood up, meeting her gaze. “Not as funny as stiffing a 12-year-old out of twenty dollars.”
Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She knew exactly what I was talking about.
“Maybe it’s just the universe teaching you a lesson,” I said, my tone sharp. “Hard work is its own reward, right?”
Mrs. Johnson clenched her jaw, her eyes darting from me to the piles of mulch and then back to the small crowd of neighbors now openly watching. She was trapped. She couldn’t argue with me without looking worse in front of the whole street.
“Fine,” she spat, turning on her heel and stomping into her house. A minute later, she reappeared with a crumpled twenty-dollar bill in her hand.
She shoved it at me, but I didn’t take it. “Give it to Ethan,” I said, stepping aside.
She shot me one last glare, then walked over to where Ethan stood at the edge of the yard. “Here,” she muttered, shoving the bill at him.
Ethan took the money, eyes wide with surprise. “Uh, thanks.”
Mrs. Johnson didn’t say another word as she hurried back to her car. She fumbled with her phone, probably trying to call someone to remove the mulch blocking her driveway. But I wasn’t worried about that. My job was done.
Ethan smiled so wide, I thought his face might split in two.
“Thanks, Mom,” he said, beaming.
“Don’t thank me,” I said, ruffling his hair. “You earned it.”
Mrs. Johnson never asked Ethan for help again. And every time she passed the neighbors, I could see the embarrassment in her eyes. Her hedges grew back, and the mulch eventually disappeared, but the story of how she learned a lesson about honesty and hard work stayed with the neighborhood.
Sometimes, the people who seem the most put-together are the ones who need a good reminder that you don’t mess with a mother protecting her son.
My Daughter-in-Law Tossed My Things Out After Finding Out She Inherited the House, but Fate Came Back to Bite Her That Very Day
I was so certain the will reading would be a clear-cut affair without surprises. How wrong I was.
The nursing home smelled of antiseptic and faintly of wilted flowers, a combination that made my throat tighten. I took a steadying breath as a young nurse handed me Dad’s belongings, neatly packed in a plain, worn cardboard box.
“Here you are, Ma’am,” the nurse said, her voice gentle but distant as if she’d done this a hundred times.
I nodded, murmuring a quiet thank you as I lifted the box.
It wasn’t heavy, but the weight seemed to press down on me all the same. Inside were the simple things: his favorite worn sweater, a small Bible with its cover frayed from years of use, and several mystery novels with dog-eared pages.
I brushed my fingers over the sweater, catching a faint scent of his cologne, familiar and fleeting.
The finality hit me when I turned to leave.
Dad was truly gone. I tightened my grip on the box as if holding onto it could somehow keep him with me. When I reached my car, silent tears were slipping down my cheeks.
I sat in the car and cried until my tears ran out. My phone beeped and rang several times, but it was just Matt. He was probably worried about me, but some grief you have to wade through alone.
The last thing I expected to find when I arrived home was my whole life strewn across the front lawn like some kind of unholy estate sale.
The wind picked up, scattering the memories I’d so carefully packed into boxes and hauled down from the attic.
Mom’s old recipes, her china, the worn plaid quilt Dad used to nap under, and all his books — it all lay out in the open, unprotected, as if they meant nothing. I stumbled out of my car, heart pounding.
“What in God’s name…” I muttered, my voice swallowed by the wind.
“Oh, good. You’re finally back. I was getting tired of waiting.”
There, perched on my patio furniture with her designer sunglasses and her too-bright lipstick, was Jessica. My daughter-in-law didn’t even glance up from her phone. She took a leisurely sip from her coffee, and her lips curved in a barely restrained smirk.
“Jessica… What is all this?” My eyes swept over the chaos, disbelief clamping down on my chest. “What are you doing?”
She glanced up, lowering her sunglasses just enough for me to see the disdain in her eyes. She waved a manicured hand dismissively.
“I’m doing what’s necessary. This is my home now, after all.”
A cold knot twisted in my stomach. “Your home? What are you talking about?”
“Looks like you should’ve attended the will reading.” Jessica held up a crisp piece of paper, and there was my father’s signature, clear as day, at the bottom. “Guess your dad knew who deserved it most, huh?”
I swayed, gripping the car door for support. “That’s impossible. Dad would never—”
“Oh, but he did.” She smirked, casually inspecting her perfect manicure.
“Signed, sealed, delivered. The house is mine now.” She leaned in close, her perfume, a cloying, artificial scent, invading my space. “I think it’s time you moved on, Hattie.”
A truck rumbled into the driveway, and my son, Matt, climbed out, his face twisting as he took in the scene. His boots crunched over the gravel as he approached, confusion deepening the crease between his brows.
“What the heck, Jess? First you run out of the lawyer’s office, and now you send me this weird text? What’s going on?” he asked, glancing from me to Jessica, his jaw tight.
She stretched, standing at last, looking smug and at ease in her towering heels. It made my skin crawl. “Like I said, I’m making some necessary changes, honey. And actually, there’s more you should know.”
Matt’s expression hardened with a flash of something I hadn’t seen before. “More than you throwing my mother’s belongings all over the yard?”
“Much more!” Jessica’s laugh was harsh. “I want a divorce.”
The word hung in the air like the final nail in a coffin. Matt’s mouth opened, then closed as he struggled to process. “What? You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I am.” Her voice was dripping with disdain. “I’ve spent enough years suffocating in this house, being made to feel like I don’t fit in, like I’m not good enough!” She gestured at the house with a sweep of her arm. “I need a fresh start.”
“You have no right—” I started, but she cut me off with a scornful wave.
“Oh, save it, Hattie. You never wanted me in this family. You looked down on me right from the start, judging me just because I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon. Well, now I’m finally getting what I deserve out of you people.”
Matt’s face shifted from bewilderment to anger, his fists clenched. “Everything my family said about you is true,” he said, voice low and trembling. “You really are a covetous witch.”
Jessica’s veneer cracked.
“And you’re a spineless mama’s boy!” she snapped. “Always running to her defense, always putting her first.” She sneered, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at him. “It’s pathetic. You’re just as small-minded as she is.”
“Don’t you dare talk about my son that way!” My voice cut through the silence, sharper than I’d intended.
“I’ll do whatever I want, Hattie.” Jessica set her hands on her hips, her expression smug. “And there’s nothing either of you can do about it.”
“In fact,” Jessica continued. “The two of you had best hurry and clear your stuff off MY lawn, before I call the cops and have them arrest you both.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Matt yelled.
I numbly looked on as Matt confronted Jessica. None of this made sense! Dad hadn’t even liked Jessica! My hands shook as I pulled out my phone and quickly dialed Dad’s lawyer.
His voice was a balm, calm and reassuring. “Hattie? I was just about to call you.”
“… really believed I liked you?” Jessica yelled in the background. “You were just a means to an end, a way for me to leave my old neighborhood behind. Now I have the house, I don’t need you anymore!”
“Please,” I whispered to the lawyer. “Tell me she’s lying. There’s no way Dad left his home to Jessica.”
There was a pause, then a warm chuckle.
“You’re right. Your father didn’t leave her the house. It was all a test to get her to show her true colors.”
“A…test?” Relief rushed through me, and I started laughing, tears gathering in my eyes. It was the kind of laugh that came from somewhere deep, a laugh that surprised even me.
Jessica’s face twisted, her confidence faltering. “What are you laughing at?”
“Oh, Jessica,” I managed, still shaking. “You really should have waited for the real will reading.”
“What?”
I let the satisfaction roll through me as I explained. “Dad never left you the house. It was fake — a test to get you to show your true character.”
Matt turned to Jessica, his face a storm of emotions. “Looks like Grandpa’s plan worked.”
Jessica’s eyes widened. She glanced between Matt and me as the realization of what she’d done sunk in. Her confident facade crumbled, her voice turning desperate as she scrambled to save face.
“Matt — baby, please.” She reached out, but he recoiled, the finality in his eyes unmistakable.
“I swear, I never meant it!” She pleaded. “I was just…upset, frustrated. You know I love you!”
He shook his head. “Save it. You want a divorce? You’ve got one.”
As Jessica stomped off the property, her heels sinking with each step, I felt an odd peace settle over me. Dad’s wisdom lived on, a quiet, guiding presence.
Matt and I gathered the remnants of my life from the grass, and I couldn’t help thinking that sometimes the real inheritance isn’t in a house — it’s in the lessons of who truly deserves to be in your life.
Dad would have been proud.
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