«Dont you dare dress like that in my house,» hissed the mother-in-law in front of the guests.
«Emily, have you seen my glasses? I think I left them on the coffee table,» Margaret Baker glanced into the kitchen, where her daughter-in-law was putting the finishing touches on the holiday salad.
«Check the case, Margaret. I tidied the living room and put them there,» Emily replied without looking up from slicing vegetables, ensuring each piece was perfect.
Her mother-in-law pursed her lips but said nothing. In her mind, no one should touch her things, even with good intentions. Especially her things. But with guests arriving soon, she held her tonguetoday was too important for petty arguments.
It had been exactly thirty years since Margaret had moved into this spacious house with its high ceilings and antique furniture inherited from her own mother-in-law. Every corner was familiar, every object in its rightful place. Though the house now legally belonged to her son James, she still considered herself its true mistress.
Emily had only lived with them for two years. For Margaret, the marriage had been an unwelcome surpriseher son had brought home a woman hed known for just three months. Bright, university-educated, and, in Margarets opinion, far too modern in her outlook.
«The salads nearly ready,» Emily said, arranging it on a large platter. «Ill just have time to change before everyone arrives.»
«I hope youre not planning to wear that red dress?» Margaret remarked casually, smoothing her immaculately styled silver hair.
Emily paused, then slowly met her mother-in-laws gaze.
«Thats exactly what I planned to wear,» she said calmly. «James picked it out for me on our anniversary.»
«Its entirely unsuitable for a family dinner,» Margaret snapped. «Far too… revealing. You have that lovely blue dress with the collar I gave you for Christmas.»
Emily took a deep breath. That blue dressmore like a schoolgirls uniformhad been worn exactly once, at Margarets insistence. Since then, it had hung forgotten in the back of the wardrobe.
«Margaret, I think at thirty-two, I can decide what to wear,» she said gently but firmly.
«Of course,» Margaret replied with a forced smile. «Just remember, my friends are coming tonight. People from an older generation. They have certain expectations of propriety.»
Without waiting for a response, she left the kitchen, leaving Emily alone with unspoken frustration.
Upstairs, James was buttoning his freshly ironed shirt. He smiled as his wife entered.
«Ready to impress the esteemed guests?»
«Almost,» Emily said, pulling the red dress from the wardrobe. «Your mothers already critiqued my outfit.»
James sighed. «Ignore her. You know she just worries about appearances.»
«Or is it just my appearance?» Emily examined the dressslightly daring, with a deep neckline and a thigh slit, but hardly scandalous.
«Not tonight, love,» James said, hugging her from behind. «This day means everything to her. Thirty years in this houseits her whole life.»
«And my self-respect means something too,» Emily murmured. «Im not a child to be told what to wear.»
James hesitated, torn between supporting his wife and upsetting his mother.
«Wear what you like,» he finally said. «Youre stunning in anything.»
Emily kissed his cheek, swallowing her irritation for his sake.
Guests began arriving at six. First came Margarets longtime friends, Mr. and Mrs. Thompson, followed by sharp-tongued Mrs. Harris from next door. Soon, the house was filled with Margarets generation, all sharing decades of memories.
Emily and James greeted everyone, helping with coats and exchanging pleasantries. Margaret held court in the living room, arranging dishes and recounting tales from her youth.
When the meal was nearly served, Emily slipped into the kitchen, where Margaret was retrieving a pie from the oven.
«Ill bring the main course,» Emily said. «Theyre eager for your famous beef Wellington.»
Margaret nodded, but her eyes fixed on Emilys neckline. The red dress fit perfectly, elegant yet boldbut in Margarets eyes, it was indecent.
«Couldnt you have found something… more modest?» she hissed.
«Weve discussed this,» Emily replied evenly. «Its perfectly appropriate.»
«In my day, family dinners didnt involve such… exhibitionism.» Margaret slammed the pie down, making the dish clatter.
Emilys cheeks burned, but she bit back a retortnot now, not in front of guests.
«Lets return to the table,» she said, lifting the serving tray.
The dining room was lively, James regaling everyone with a work story. As Emily set down the food, Margaret intercepted her.
«Darling, would you fetch more bread? Weve run out.»
A liethe bread basket was full. But Emily nodded and turned toward the kitchen, overhearing Margaret whisper to Mrs. Thompson:
«Honestly, teaching her manners. Young people today have no sense of decency.»
Emily froze, fists clenched, then exhaled and returned empty-handed.
«Theres plenty of bread, Margaret,» she said, taking her seat beside James.
Margaret glared but stayed silent. The evening continuedtoasts, stories, laughteryet tension thickened like storm clouds.
During dessert, sharp-eyed Mrs. Harris suddenly remarked, «Your daughter-in-laws a beauty, Margaret! That red dressstraight off a magazine cover!»
Margaret forced a smile. «Emily does love fashion. Though modesty never goes out of style.»
«Oh, nonsense!» Mrs. Harris waved a hand. «If I had her figure at her age, Id wear the same! Good for you, dear.»
Emily smiled gratefully, rising when the kettle whistled.
«Ill make tea.»
Margaret followed. On the kitchen threshold, her composure cracked.
«How dare you disgrace my home like this?» she hissed. «That dress is vulgar, insulting»
Emily stepped back, stunned. «Margaret, its just an evening dress.»
«Dont play naïve!» Margarets voice trembled with rage. «You wore it to humiliate me!»
«Thats not true,» Emily said firmly. «James loves it. Your son, remember?»
«James is too soft! And you manipulate him!»
The door swung open. James stood there, his face dark.
«Whats going on?»
«Nothing, darling,» Margaret said quickly. «Just discussing… attire.»
«I heard enough,» James said quietly. «Emily is my wife. I wont let anyoneeven youspeak to her like that.»
«But this is my house!»
«No. Its ours. Yours, mine, Emilys. We all belong here.»
Silence fell, broken only by laughter from the dining room.
«I never meant to cause trouble,» Emily said. «Had I known this dress would upset you, Id have worn something else.»
Margarets anger faltered. For the first time in two years, she hesitated.
«Perhaps… I overreacted,» she admitted stiffly. «But in my day»
«Times change, Margaret,» Emily said softly. «But kindness doesnt. I dont want to fight. I want us to be family.»
The kettle boiled again, a reminder of waiting guests.
«Lets rejoin them,» James said.
Margaret nodded, then stopped Emily. «Wait. I… I owe you an apology. You look lovely in that dress. Mrs. Harris was rightyouth should be celebrated.»
Emily blinked. In two years, Margaret had never admitted fault.
«Thank you,» she said simply. «That means a lot.»
Back in the dining room, no one seemed to notice their absenceexcept Mrs. Harris, whose knowing glance held no judgment.
The evening ended warmly. Margaret even asked where Emily bought the dress»For my friend Barbara. Shed adore something so stylish.»
As guests departed, Mrs. Harris lingered.
«Margaret,» she said quietly, «in fifty years, Ive never seen you apologize. Until tonight.»
«Dont be absurd.»
Mrs. Harris smirked. «I saw your faces. You admitted you were wrong. Thats progress.»
Margaret sighed. «You always saw too much.»
«Your daughter-in-laws wonderful. Your sons happy. Isnt that what matters?»
After Mrs. Harris left, Margaret found Emily and James clearing the table.
«Leave it,» she said. «Well manage tomorrow. Tonight was too nice to end with chores.»
James gaped. «But you always say»
«Rules are meant to be broken. Right, Emily?»
Emily smiled. «Especially when it makes us happier.»
James hugged them boththree generations, three perspectives, but one family. With all its clashes, misunderstandings, and perhaps, a fresh start.
«You know,» Margaret mused, «I saw a dress just like yours, but in blue. Do you think itd suit me?»
And for the first time in ages, they laughed togethertruly, without reservation.
