“Our gift.”
She pushed the envelope a little closer.
“Open it in front of everyone. Let the others enjoy the moment too. You do like everything to happen openly, in front of people.”
“Claire, sit down. Now.”
Ethan hissed the words from his chair. He had finally realized that the evening was unfolding nothing like the way he had planned.
Margaret pressed her lips together.
She picked up the envelope by its very tips, as if afraid of contaminating herself, and carefully tore open the edge.
It was empty.
Exactly as Claire had expected.
Uneven red patches appeared on the birthday woman’s cheeks.
“There’s nothing here,” Margaret said coldly, tossing the envelope onto the tablecloth.
Claire nodded.
“That’s right. There’s exactly as much in it as there was in the envelope you gave us eighteen months ago at our wedding. And, by the way, it’s the very same envelope.”
Uncle George stopped chewing.
Emily leaned forward, stretching her neck to see better.
A heavy, awkward silence settled over the table.
The steady hum of the air conditioner above them suddenly seemed deafening.
Ethan shot to his feet.
His face turned blotchy.
“Do you even hear yourself? Mom simply forgot to put the money in it! I already explained that to you! There was a wedding, dozens of guests, chaos everywhere—people make mistakes! Why are you humiliating us like this?”
Claire turned to him with complete composure.
“She forgot?”
She let the question hang for a moment.
“Then ask your mother what she told me the next day, when I went to her homeowners’ association office.”
Claire looked directly at Margaret.
Her mother-in-law said nothing. She stared back with a heavy, unyielding expression.
“Would you like me to remind you?” Claire asked. “You said, ‘I’m not going to finance your ambitions with my own money. Consider it a matter of principle.’ Do you remember that conversation?”
For several seconds, Margaret struggled to preserve her dignity before the suddenly silent relatives.
At last, she snapped, “You shameless, insolent girl. I invited you to my own birthday, you’re sitting at my table, and now you think you have the right to lecture me? I’ve lived long enough to decide for myself whom I help and whom I don’t!”
“Of course,” Claire agreed without raising her voice. “That is your right. And I have the right to return gifts. At our wedding—which I partly paid for with borrowed money—you presented us with an empty envelope in front of everyone. Today I’m simply giving your gift back. And the envelope is genuine, by the way. That is the same grease mark from the fish Uncle George accidentally dropped on it during the wedding.”
At the sound of his name, Uncle George drew his head awkwardly into his shoulders.
Ethan hurried around the table and seized Claire by the arm.
“Apologize to my mother. Right now.”
Claire pulled herself free.
“Let go of me.”
Ethan finally lost control.
“You’re completely crazy! You’ve humiliated us in front of the whole family! If you don’t know how to behave like a normal person, then get out!”
Claire did not argue.
“With pleasure. The estimate is closed.”
She turned and walked toward the exit.
At the coat check, Claire collected her coat, put it on, and left the restaurant.
The evening air was cool.
She did not call a taxi.
Instead, she walked slowly to the nearest bus stop, waited for an almost empty evening bus, and took a seat by the window.
Strangely, she felt completely calm.
Three weeks passed.
Claire stood on a stepladder in the middle of an empty apartment in a new development, checking a crooked wall with a laser level.
She had signed a lease on a small studio just two days after Margaret’s birthday.
While Ethan was at work, Claire had packed her belongings quickly and moved out.
Her phone vibrated inside the pocket of her work overalls.
Ethan’s name appeared on the screen.
During the first week after she left, he had sent one furious message after another. He demanded an apology for ruining his mother’s birthday and threatened to file for divorce before she could.
Claire had not answered.
For some reason, though, she decided to take this call.
“Yes?”
Ethan sounded strangely casual, as if Claire had merely gone to work that morning and was expected home by evening.
“Hey, Claire. Do you remember where the warranty card for the robot vacuum is? It suddenly stopped finding its charging base.”
Claire lowered the laser level and gave a faint, humorless smile.
“I have no idea.”
Ethan sounded surprised.
“What do you mean, you have no idea? You sorted through all the documents before you moved. Look among your things. I need to take it to the service center. Mom called—her back is hurting, and washing the floors herself has become difficult.”
Claire was silent for a few seconds.
“Ethan, we’ve been living separately for three weeks. Whatever happens to your vacuum is no longer my concern.”
“Oh, come on. Don’t stay angry.”
He sighed heavily, then adopted the same patronizing tone he used when explaining something obvious to a small child.
“You lost your temper that night. It happens. Come home already. Mom will calm down eventually, and we’ll sort everything out somehow. I can’t even keep up with the utility bills without you. There are already late fees.”
Claire answered simply, “Handle it yourself.”
She ended the call, put the phone back into the pocket of her overalls, and picked up her measuring tape.
A major project was waiting for her.
And Claire had no intention of spending another minute correcting someone else’s mistakes, miscalculations, or budgets that never added up.