“Because you don’t know how to respect boundaries, Mom.”
Silence. Then Eleanor’s voice turned cold and hurt.
“So that’s how it is… I’m a stranger. Well, I’ll remember that.”
“Mom, don’t be offended. Just understand: we want to raise our child ourselves, on our own. And you can see your grandson, of course. But on our terms, you understand?”
“I don’t understand. I’m a mother. I’m a grandmother. I have rights.”
“You do. But you don’t have the right to dictate how we live. You don’t have the right to meddle in our lives without being asked. You don’t have the right to steal money from us.”
“I didn’t steal it! I was trying to keep it safe!”
“Mom, enough. We’ve already been over this. You stole it. Whether you admit it or not is your business. But the fact remains.”
Eleanor sniffled into the phone, then hung up.
Mike put his phone away and lay back on the pillow.
“She’s not going to change,” he said wearily.
“Really?”
“I doubt it. People her age rarely do.”
“So what do we do?”
“Keep our distance. We can talk. But from a safe distance. She’s a grandmother, yes. But she’s a grandmother who doesn’t respect boundaries.”
Mike nodded. He hugged Susan and pressed his forehead to her shoulder.
“This is hard. She’s my mom, after all.”
“I know. But you’ll handle it. We’ll handle it.”
He fell asleep, still holding her. Susan lay awake, staring at the ceiling. She thought about the birth, the sleepless nights, the diapers, the feedings. She thought about how Eleanor wouldn’t leave them alone. She would call, visit, demand attention. She thought about whether Mike would hold firm or not. But she thought about it calmly, without panic, without fear. Because now she knew: the money for the baby was safe, her husband was on her side, the boundaries were set. Everything else was manageable.
In the morning, Susan woke up to a phone call. An unknown number. She answered.
“Hello. Susan? This is from the birthing center at St. Mary’s. You’re registered with us, and we just wanted to confirm. Are you planning on having a birth partner? Yes? Great. Then your husband will need to get a physical and bring in some paperwork. I’ll email you the list. Okay, thank you.”
Susan hung up and turned to Mike. He was already awake, looking at her.
“That was the hospital. You need to get some paperwork done if you want to be there for the birth.”
“Of course I want to. I promised I’d be there.”
He got up and stretched. Susan looked at him, at his broad back, his confident movements, and thought: maybe this will really work. Maybe they could become a normal family. Not perfect—perfect doesn’t exist. But a normal one, with respect, trust, and boundaries. And Eleanor… she would remain outside those boundaries. Close, but on the outside. A grandmother who was allowed to visit by invitation. Who could see her grandson, but not run his life. It wasn’t cruelty, it was protection. For herself, her husband, her child. And Susan no longer felt guilty for that protection.
Three days later, on a Saturday evening, the doorbell rang again. Mike opened it. Eleanor, with a cake in her hands.
“Can I? Just for five minutes. I baked a cake, honey cake, your favorite.”
Mike looked at Susan. She shrugged: “Your call.”
“Five minutes, Mom. And no talk about money, or parenting, or anything else. Just tea and cake.”
“Okay, okay.”
Eleanor came in and went to the kitchen. She set the cake on the table and looked around. Susan noticed her gaze flicker over the cabinets, the shelves, as if looking for something. An old habit.
They sat at the table. Mike cut the cake and served it. Eleanor sipped her tea, a strained smile on her face.
“So how are you, Susan? How are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“Is the morning sickness gone?”
“Mostly.”
“Is your belly big yet?”
“Not yet.”
A pause. Eleanor fidgeted with her cup, clearly searching for words.
“Listen, maybe I really did overreact back then. With the money. I really did want to keep it safe, but… it came out wrong. I’m sorry, Susan.”
Susan looked up at her mother-in-law. She was looking back. There was uncertainty in her eyes, but not remorse. It was a token apology, just for show.
“Okay,” Susan said. “Accepted.”
“So maybe things can get better now? Maybe I can come over, help out, when the baby is born?”
“We’ll see.”
“What do you mean, ‘we’ll see’? I’m the grandmother.”
“The grandmother who stole from her grandson,” Susan said calmly, without anger. “You can apologize all you want, but you can’t change the fact. The trust is gone. To earn it back will take time and the right behavior.”
Eleanor pressed her lips together, about to say something, but Mike stopped her.
“Mom, Sue’s right. You crossed a line. We’re giving you a chance to start over. But only if you follow the rules. Our rules.”
“What rules?”
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