Grandma always baked for everyone else’s birthdays—chocolate chip, oatmeal raisin, sugar cookies with sprinkles. Never forgetting a candle, never forgetting a card. But for her own birthday, she always insisted, “A small dinner is more than enough. Just being together makes me happy.”
Eighty-five isn’t small. It’s a milestone. And the family decided Grandma deserved something spectacular.
“Not some boring dinner at home,” Aunt Linda declared. “She deserves the best restaurant in town!”
Everyone agreed a little too eagerly.
That’s when I overheard the truth.
“Seriously, Jade won’t say no,” Katie whispered. “She works in banking, lives alone, no kids—what else is she spending money on?”
Mark chuckled. “Exactly. We’ll relax, enjoy ourselves, and when the bill comes… she’ll get the hint.”
I froze. They were planning to guilt-trip Grandma into paying for her own lavish birthday. And they expected me to cover the damage while acting shocked.
That night, I drove Grandma to the finest restaurant in town. She wore her favorite lavender sweater, smoothing it nervously in the car.
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