Emily sat at the kitchen table, eyes fixed on the wooden countertop as Dorothy, her motherinlaw, sliced apples for an apple crumble, her voice bubbling with the latest neighbourhood gossip. The clatter of the knife and the fragrant scent of cinnamon filled the room, but Emily heard only the rapid cadence of Dorothys tale.
It had been a month since Dorothy moved in, and the housestill new, still theirsfelt cramped. Emilys marriage to James had been five happy years, yet lately she wondered whether shed made a mistake marrying the only son of a woman who seemed determined to rearrange every part of their lives.
Emily, youre not listening to me! Dorothy snapped, pausing midslice and pursing her lips. Im telling you James needs a new job. That architecture firm is a deadend. I spoke to a friendshell take him on in her construction company. Better pay, clear promotion path. He could be a site manager within a year, and you could stay home.
Emily inhaled sharply, fighting the surge of irritation. Dorothy, James decides where he works. Hes an adult.
Of course hes an adult, but youre his wife! Its your duty to steer him, to advise. Designing houses isnt a mans work! the matriarch fumed.
Hes a designerarchitect, and he loves his job. The firm is reputable, Emily replied, her voice trembling on the edge of a break.
Loves it? And the money? They pay peanuts! What about children? When will you start a family? What will you teach them? Dorothys hands flailed, the apple slices scattering.
Were not planning children yet, Emily said softly, though the topic had been revisited many times. And we have enough saved.
No children? After five years of marriage? I raised James under my roof. What am I to do with you? Dorothy set the knife down, eyes narrowing.
Emily fell silent. She wanted childrenvery muchbut not now. She had just defended her doctorate and had been promoted to senior lecturer. James and she had agreed on three more years of career building before thinking about a baby.
Dorothy, interpreting the hush as consent, pressed on. Look at Sarahs daughter, Lucyshes already had three. Her husband is a builder, theyve put up a proper house for the family.
Emily steadied herself. Well decide whats best for us, Dorothy. I respect you, but
What do you mean well decide? Im his mother! I know whats good for him, and for you too! Youre still young, inexperienced. A mother never steers you wrong.
Emily shook her head and left the kitchen, the argument futile. She ascended the narrow stairs to their modest twobedroom semidetached, bought two years ago with a mortgage, and collapsed onto the bed, closing her eyes. The days of lectures, marking scripts, and Dorothys constant criticisms drained her.
That evening James came home, tired but smiling. You wont believe itIve been promoted to lead designer on a new development! he announced, planting a kiss on Emilys forehead.
Congratulations, love! she whispered, genuine joy lighting her face.
Dorothy burst in, eyes alight. James! What project? How much will they pay?
Its a luxury housing estate, a very exciting commission. The pay will rise, of course, James replied, buoyant.
By how much? Dorothy pressed, not letting go.
James winced. Mum, does it matter? Were fine as we are.
Fine? What about the mortgage? The car? You need a new car, this rust bucket will fall apart, Dorothy insisted, her tone sharp as a cutlery drawer.
Mom, Im not Sarahs son, James interjected, his patience fraying. And Im hungrylets eat.
The dinner was a battlefield of unsolicited advice. James kept quiet, Emily felt a hot knot of irritation tighten inside her. After the plates were cleared, the couple retreated to the bedroom.
James, I cant take this any longer. Your mother is everywhereher opinions on my job, on our plans, on our life! Emily burst, tears brimming.
James sighed. She just wants whats best, Emily. Shes always like that.
I know, but theres a difference between a visit on the weekend and living under our roof fulltime!
Its only temporaryshes renovating her flat, James tried to soothe her.
How many weeks does a oneroom flat take to renovate? Its been a month already! Emily snapped.
Your mum likes everything perfect. Bear with her a little longer, will you? James whispered, attempting a smile.
Emily nodded, the only option left. She could not kick Dorothy out; it would create a rift she could not afford. Her patience was wearing thin.
The next morning, as Emily prepared for work, Dorothy appeared at the bedroom door.
Emily, we need to talk, she said, perching on the edge of the bed.
Im running latemaybe this evening? Emily tried to dodge.
No, its urgent. You need to quit your job.
Emily froze, hairbrush in hand. What? Why?
Because you need to have children! You cant postpone forever. I talked to James yesterdayhe wants a baby too.
James? Emilys heart hammered. Did he say that?
Not outright, but I can read him. Hes dreaming of a son, Dorothy replied, eyes gleaming.
Emily set the brush down, steadied herself. I appreciate your concern, truly. But James and I have already decided to wait three years. Its not the right time now.
Three years? When youre thirtythree? Thats risky! Dorothy flared. I had you at twentytwo, that was ideal. Youre missing the window.
I know you raised James at my age, but times have changed, Emily countered.
Exactly! Families used to be first, now everyone chases a career. Wheres the family in that? Dorothy exclaimed, waving her hands.
Emily checked her watch. I have to go. Well finish this tonight after work.
The day blurredlectures, faculty meetings, gradingleaving little mental space for Dorothys intrusion. Yet the doubt lingered: Was Dorothy right? Did James secretly want a child now?
When they returned home, Dorothy had set a festive table, candles flickering.
Whats the occasion? James asked, removing his shoes.
Family council! Dorothy declared, pouring wine into crystal glasses.
Emily felt a knot tighten. She sensed the conversations direction and braced herself.
Dorothy raised her glass, voice ringing. I have news! I spoke to Gail, the director of a major construction firm. She wants to hire you, James, as head of design. She thrust a glossy brochure toward him.
James choked on his wine. Mum, what are you talking about?
Im talking about your new positionhead of the design department. Double the salary! Dorothys eyes sparkled. Youll earn twice as much as now.
Im happy where I am, James said firmly, sliding the brochure away.
But think of the futureour children, the mortgage, the car, Dorothy pressed, voice rising.
We dont have children yet, James reminded her.
Exactly! Not for long! Dorothy shot a glance at Emily, who stood frozen.
Did you say you were quitting your job, Emily? James asked, startled.
No! I never said that, Emily cried, hands shaking. We agreed to revisit the threeyear plan later, but Im not quitting.
Dorothys face twisted, a mixture of surprise and indignation. But we discussed this this morning! You said youd consider my offer!
I said Id think about it later, not that Id quit, Emily corrected, voice trembling.
James looked at his wife, his eyes full of sympathy. The tension in the room swelled like a storm cloud.
Emily, are you sure you want a child now? James whispered later, after Dorothy retreated to her bedroom.
No, Emily answered, tears spilling. Weve planned three years. I need to finish my research, you need to finish the project.
James nodded, his jaw clenched. Im tired of Moms meddling. Ill talk to her tomorrow.
The following day Dorothy acted as if nothing had happened, asking about Emilys schedule, never mentioning the heated dinner. That evening, Emily found her at the computer, typing furiously.
Good evening, Emily said, stepping into the study. What are you doing?
Dorothy startled, closing the browser. Ohjust emailing a friend.
Emilys eyes caught the page title: How to convince your adult children to have grandchildren. She sighed. Dorothy, we need to talk.
What about? Dorothy feigned innocence.
About you trying to control our lives, Emily said, voice steady. Youre a mother, but youre not mine. James and I are adultswe make our own decisions.
Dorothys face fell. Im not trying to controljust help. A mother wants the best for her child.
A mother to James, not to me, Emily replied. We love you, but we need space to choose.
Dorothy muttered, Youll understand someday. She looked away, eyes wet.
James entered, looking exhausted. Whats going on?
The director called me, he said, sitting down heavily. Someone asked about my salary and prospects. It was you, wasnt it? You called my boss?
Dorothys cheeks flushed. I was only checking that youre okay! Im a mother, I worry!
You crossed a line, Mum, James said, his voice low but firm. We have a right to privacy.
Privacy? Dorothy scoffed. Ive raised you from the start! There are no boundaries between mother and child.
Exactly, there should be, James replied, clenching his fists. Emily and I have decided on a threeyear plan for children, and well stay where we are professionally. Please respect that.
Dorothys eyes welled. I just dont want you to make mistakes.
Even if theyre mistakes, theyre ours, James said gently. Well learn from them.
A heavy silence settled. Emily reached for a teapot. Shall we have tea? she suggested, breaking the tension.
Tea sounds good, James agreed, nodding.
Dorothy gave a small, reluctant smile. Ill try to keep my advice to a whisper.
The next morning Dorothy announced she was moving back to her flat, now ready after the renovations. Emily felt a mixture of relief and sorrowrelief at the sudden quiet, sorrow for the woman who truly believed she was acting out of love.
Dorothy, youre always welcome to visit, Emily said as they said goodbye. Justdont intrude on our decisions.
Understood, dear, Dorothy replied, hugging her tightly. I only ever wanted the best.
Months passed. Emily and James stuck to their threeyear timeline, focusing on careers and research. When the period finally arrived, they welcomed a healthy baby girl, Lily, into the world. Dorothy, now a proud grandmother, held Lily for the first time, tears of joy spilling over.
Shes beautiful, she whispered, eyes shining. You both did the right thing.
Emily and James exchanged a glance, feeling the weight of their journey lift. The family gathered more often now, but Dorothy no longer tried to steer their lives. She listened, laughed, and let them live their own story.
One quiet afternoon, as they all sipped tea, Dorothy reflected, Ive learned that best isnt a recipe anyone can write. Its when each of us decides for ourselves.
James smiled. You always wanted the best, Mum, and were grateful.
Emily added, Its not about what we wanted, but what we achieved together. And it turned out wonderful.
Dorothy looked around the roomher son, her daughterinlaw, her granddaughterand felt the peace she had chased for so long. The path had been rocky, but at last it led to the family she had always imagined.
