A week later, Abigail came over to meet the baby. She walked in with a big smile, cooing over her grandson and commenting on how much he looked like Jake. For a moment, I thought she was here just to spend time with the family.
But as she handed the baby back to me, her tone changed. “So, about that $600… When can I expect the payment?”
I smiled, keeping my voice calm. “Oh, I’m happy to pay you—on one condition.”
Her expression tightened. “What condition?”
I walked over to the desk and pulled out a thick folder I had prepared earlier. “Since you’re charging us for services, I thought it was only fair we do the same.”
She frowned as I slid the folder towards her. “What is this?”
“It’s an invoice,” I replied sweetly. “For every favor we’ve ever done for you. Helping you move into your new house last year? That’s $800, with a family discount included. The time Jake and I paid for your car repairs when your transmission failed? $1,200. Babysitting your neighbor’s kids when you were ‘too busy’? $600. I could go on.”
Her face turned pale as she scanned the itemized list. “This is ridiculous!” she sputtered. “You can’t charge me for things family does for each other!”
“Exactly,” I said, crossing my arms. “Family helps each other out without expecting payment. Or at least, that’s what I thought. But if you want to treat this like a business arrangement, then we’ll do it your way.”
Abigail opened and closed her mouth, struggling to form a coherent argument. Finally, she muttered, “This is different. I had to rearrange my schedule for Rich!”
“And I had to rearrange my entire life to have your grandchild,” I shot back, my voice firm. “So, if we’re talking about fair compensation, I’d say we’re more than even.”
Her face flushed red as she stood up, grabbing her purse. Without another word, she stormed out of the house, slamming the door so hard it startled the baby.
Jake, who had been watching silently from the kitchen, walked over and wrapped me in a hug. “Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he said with a grin.
I laughed and sank onto the couch with the baby in my arms. Rich trotted over, resting his head on my knee, as if to say, “Good job, Mom.”
Abigail might not have learned her lesson, but one thing was certain: she wouldn’t be seeing a single cent of that $600. And if she ever tried to pull something like this again? Well, I still had the folder. Let her try me.