When I saw a stranger in a cafe wearing my late mum’s necklace, my world turned upside down. My obsessive mother-in-law had stolen it, as well as other family heirlooms, and was giving them away to her friends. Enraged and with a sense of betrayal, I took what was mine and plotted a lesson she would never forget.
I have always prided myself on being dependable. My husband, Michael, likes to say that my heart is my strongest muscle. It’s cute. Silly, but sweet.
We have built a beautiful relationship based on respect, understanding and love.
So when his mother, Lucille, found herself without a flat, I didn’t hesitate. It wasn’t easy living with her, but I couldn’t say no. Family is family, right?
Are you sure? – Michael asked, hesitating. – She might be… too much.
I’m sure,’ I answered. – But she has to respect boundaries. Living with us doesn’t mean she can do whatever she wants in our house or with our things.
Michael nodded. – ‘I agree. I’ll have a word with her.
It was fine at first. She was clingy, but tolerable. I chalked it up to adjustment.
Until the necklace incident.
My mother’s necklace
My best friend Tara and I had an appointment at a coffee shop on Maple, a place with sticky tables and the best lattes in town.
We had just sat down when I saw a group of women at a nearby table.
One of them was wearing my mum’s necklace.
It took my breath away. I recognised it instantly: the gold glitter, the filigree pattern… This piece of jewellery had been in our family for generations.
It wasn’t just precious – it was Mum herself. Her memory.
What happened? – Tara asked.
That woman has Mum’s necklace! How… I’ll be right back.
I walked over to her, my heart racing.
Excuse me?
The woman looked up. – She did?
Your necklace… Where did you get it?
She touched the pendant. – Oh, this? A friend of mine, Lucille, lent it to me. Said it was her sister-in-law’s old junk. Assured me I could have it.
Lucille!
My ears are ringing.
Did it? Because Lucille is my mother-in-law. And this is my necklace. It’s precious to me, and I never gave her the right to give it to anyone.
The woman turned pale and hastily undid the clasp.
I’m terribly sorry! I didn’t know….
And the other things, too,’ I added, looking round their table.
The women fidgeted. One took off my mother’s brooch, the other her ring.
‘We really didn’t know… Lucille said it didn’t matter…’
She lied,’ I said stiffly. – Give them back.
They silently handed over the jewellery until my pockets were filled with stolen memories. But instead of relief, I felt only rage.
A lesson for Lucille
I returned home, anger boiling inside me.
Her room smelled of cheap lavender cologne, and on her dressing table an open jewellery box glittered with jewels.
And then it struck me.
If Lucille was so fond of giving away other people’s things, let her experience it for herself.
I collected her jewellery and wrote to the same friends:
Want to help teach her a lesson?
Karen, the woman with Mum’s brooch, laughed:
Oh, honey, we’re in.
A few days later, Lucille had a tea party, and I watched from the corridor.
Her friends came… but all were wearing her jewellery.
Karen wore her famous brooch. Another woman the massive gold necklace Lucille always bragged about. A third was the rings she wore to all the family dinners.
Lucille poured tea, chatting about nothing… and then she froze.
Her gaze stopped on Karen’s brooch. Then on the necklace. Then the rings. Her face flushed.
What… What’s going on?! – she hissed.
Karen smiled innocently:
Is something wrong, Lucille? You’re the one giving away other people’s stuff, why do you care?
Lucille’s cup rattled in her hands.
This is different! This jewellery is mine!
And that’s when I stepped out of the shadows.
‘Oh, calm down, Lucille,’ I said icily. – I was just doing what you did.
She gasped, pale.
I-I didn’t mean to…
It doesn’t matter what you wanted,’ I cut her off. – You stole my mother’s memory from me. You lied. And you humiliated her legacy.
Please don’t call the police …
I should,’ I said coldly.
That night, Lucille packed up and left.
Her friends cut off contact with her until she apologised to me and to them.
And I locked Mum’s jewellery in the safe that same night.
Holding her necklace in my hands, I felt bitterness as well as strength.
Lucille had tried to take my mother’s legacy away from me, but she couldn’t.
Because I’d learnt the lesson that being a good person meant standing up for yourself.
