“Next Saturday will be the anniversary of my husband’s death,” she said proudly. “The whole extended family will be coming to this house, so this year you will be cooking everything so everyone can see what kind of daughter-in-law we have.”
I understood her hidden plan instantly. She wanted to show me off to the family. If I cooked, she would boast that she had tamed me, and if I refused, she would call me lazy in front of everyone.
I smiled warmly at her.
“Of course, Mrs. Tabitha,” I said. “I will make sure that day is completely unforgettable for everyone.”
I deliberately did not buy any meat, rice, or vegetables all week. I only brought white flowers and beautiful candles for the memorial altar.
The night before the big event, upon seeing the completely empty refrigerator, my mother-in-law turned pale with shock.
“Where is the food for the guests?” she demanded.
I looked at her calmly.
“Everyone will understand tomorrow,” I replied smoothly. “It will be a perfect demonstration of family respect.”
And when the guests arrived the next day, the truth was about to explode in front of everyone.
PART 3
At eight in the morning, Mrs. Tabitha’s house was completely full of loud voices.
The uncles, cousins, nephews, and some close neighbors had arrived dressed in black, as they did every single year, to remember Steven Edmonds, the late family patriarch. In the living room, there was a large portrait of him with a white ribbon, fresh flowers, votive candles, and a small table filled with coffee, tea, and sweet bread.
Mrs. Tabitha walked among the guests like a queen of the ceremony, wearing a dark lilac dress, a pearl necklace, and a smile that tried desperately to hide her nervousness.
“This year my new daughter-in-law took care of everything,” she told the guests proudly. “She is very capable and very hardworking, and since I am getting old, I am teaching her to continue our traditions.”
The aunts nodded in approval. Some looked me up and down, assessing my understated suit, my neatly styled hair, and the way I served tea without losing my polite smile.
“How lucky you are, Tabitha,” said Aunt Marilyn. “These days, young girls do not want to do anything at all, so if yours agreed to cook for the whole family, you must take good care of her.”
I listened to them without responding. I served coffee, offered bread, and asked if anyone needed water, doing all of it with perfect courtesy.
But there was absolutely no smell coming from the kitchen. There was no broth, no roast, no rice, no chicken, and no vegetables cooking.
At nine o’clock, Uncle Gregory, the older brother of the late patriarch, looked closely at his watch.
“Tabitha, what time is lunch served?” Uncle Gregory asked loudly. “We should be saying our prayers very soon.”
Mrs. Tabitha swallowed hard. She looked around frantically for me and found me calmly washing some teacups in the kitchen sink.
She approached me with very quick steps.
“Taylor,” she whispered angrily. “Where on earth is the food?”
“It is waiting for you to start cooking, Mrs. Tabitha,” I replied.
“What do you mean by that?” she asked, her eyes wide.
I dried my hands with a cloth napkin.
“You taught me that a new daughter-in-law should not touch the food of her elders,” I said clearly. “Today, the most respected members of the family are gathered, so it would be a grave offense for me, with my lower rank, to cook, taste, or serve the main course before them. That is why I thought it proper for you, as the guardian of tradition, to prepare everything yourself.”
Her lips trembled with sudden fear.
“Are you completely crazy?” she hissed. “There are more than twenty people out there!”
“That is precisely why it would be unforgivable for me to contaminate the protocol,” I said.
Before she could answer me, I went out into the living room and asked for everyone’s attention.
“Dear Edmonds family, thank you for being here to honor the memory of Mr. Steven Edmonds,” I announced loudly. “As you know, I have just joined this household and am still learning your customs. Mrs. Tabitha explained a very important rule to me, which states the new daughter-in-law must not touch the table or the food of her elders until everyone has eaten. To respect this tradition today, she has decided to personally take charge of the meal with the purity and authority that only a mother in this family possesses, while I will serve tea and wait my turn.”
The silence in the room was absolute.
Mrs. Tabitha stood completely motionless in the kitchen doorway. Her face fell. She wanted to say something to defend herself, but the exact words she had used against me now silenced her.
Aunt Marilyn opened her eyes wide in shock.
“What do you mean the daughter-in-law cannot eat until everyone has finished?” Aunt Marilyn asked.
Another cousin murmured quietly nearby.
“Do people still do that ridiculous thing nowadays?” the cousin asked.
Uncle Gregory looked very serious as he stared at my mother-in-law.
“Tabitha, those rules are far too old-fashioned,” Uncle Gregory said firmly. “But if you set them yourself, then you cannot ask the girl to break them today. Go cook for us, and the women who want to help can peel or wash vegetables, but you must be in charge to preserve the purity of your tradition.”
Some aunts immediately stood up, not to save her, but to witness her fall from the front row.
“Come on, Tabitha,” one of them said with a venomous smile. “You always boasted that nobody cooked like you did.”
Colin came running from the hallway.
“What is going on here?” Colin asked, looking confused.
Mrs. Tabitha looked at him as if she expected him to defend her honor. But my husband, finally understanding the scene, simply lowered his head because he had spent a whole week watching his mother demand obedience and then complain about receiving it.
The kitchen turned into complete chaos.
There was no food shopping done beforehand. Colin had to rush out to the local market for chicken, vegetables, rice, cheese, and tortillas. Aunt Marilyn was looking for large pots and pans, a cousin was chopping onions, and another was scrutinizing the empty pantry with a mocking expression. Mrs. Tabitha, who had been organizing things from her comfortable armchair for years, tried to manage everything with trembling hands.
“Hurry up, Tabitha,” a sister-in-law told her. “The older folks are getting very hungry, so do not make them wait like you did your daughter-in-law.”
The laughter in the kitchen was discreet, but it was more than enough to shatter her pride.
I remained at the entrance of the kitchen, without touching a single thing.
“Mrs. Tabitha, please be careful with the salt,” I said politely. “Uncle Gregory has high blood pressure.”
She gave me a fiery look of pure hatred.
“I do not need your comments right now,” she snapped.
“Excuse me,” I replied gently. “I just want to learn everything from you.”
The food was finally served almost three hours late. The rice was mushy, the chicken was a bit dry, and the sauce was far too acidic. No one said it outright to be polite, but everyone noticed the poor quality. Mrs. Tabitha sat down exhausted, sweating beneath her elegant dress, her hands completely red from the heat of the pots.
When they offered me a place at the table, I humbly declined the offer.
“I cannot sit down with you,” I said. “Mrs. Tabitha taught me that the adults eat first, then I will clean up the kitchen, and if there is anything left, I will eat.”
