“What are you doing, going on strike?” her husband snapped. “Mom can’t handle everything by herself, and you’re just sitting there tapping at your phone!”
Emily was in her own room, seated at her desk, reviewing the mockup for a new client’s website. Bright blocks of color, font samples, and small icons shifted across the laptop screen. For four years she had worked remotely as a web designer, and the job brought in decent money. Orders came in steadily, she set her own schedule, and the arrangement suited her perfectly.
The front door opened. Michael stepped into the apartment, shrugged off his jacket, hung it in the closet, and went toward the kitchen.
“Emily, are you home?” he called.
“Yes. I’m working,” she answered without looking away from the monitor.
A moment later, Michael appeared in the doorway of her room and leaned one shoulder against the frame.
“Listen, I need to talk to you. Seriously.”
Emily finally pulled her eyes from the screen and looked at him. His expression told her at once that this would not be a pleasant conversation.
“What happened?”
“It’s about Mom,” Michael said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Her house out in the village is falling apart. The roof leaks, the stove smokes, the walls are damp. She won’t make it through the winter there.”
Emily stiffened. She already had a fairly clear idea where this was going.
“And what exactly are you suggesting?”
“Well… we should bring her here. At least for the winter.” Michael avoided her gaze. “We have three rooms. We can manage.”
Emily pushed back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest. In the three years of their marriage, she had seen Linda only a handful of times, and every visit had left behind the same unpleasant aftertaste. Her mother-in-law was a forceful, domineering woman who believed she knew better than everyone about absolutely everything.
“Michael, do you understand how much harder this is going to make our lives?”
“She’s my mother, Emily. I can’t leave her in a collapsing house.” At last he looked directly at his wife. “Please.”
Emily let out a long breath. She did not have the heart to refuse; Michael would have seen it as a betrayal. Besides, she understood perfectly well that an older person could not simply be abandoned in conditions like that.
“All right,” she said at last. “But only for the winter. And she is not to interfere in our life.”
“Of course, of course. Thank you, sweetheart.” Michael exhaled with visible relief and kissed the top of her head.
The apartment did, in fact, have three rooms, and it belonged to Emily. Five years earlier she had inherited it from her grandmother, long before she met Michael. After the wedding, the two of them had simply settled there together. Michael worked as a manager for a construction company and earned an average salary; a mortgage or the rent on a larger place would have been beyond their reach.
Linda arrived a week later. Michael drove to the village to pick her up and brought her back with three enormous suitcases and two bags.
“Good afternoon, Linda,” Emily said, meeting her mother-in-law at the entrance and trying to take one of the suitcases from her.
“Good afternoon,” Linda replied dryly, sweeping a critical look over the apartment. “So this is where I’m supposed to live?”
“Yes. This will be your room.” Emily pointed to the far bedroom. “We put in a bed, a wardrobe, and everything else you’ll need.”
Linda stepped inside, glanced around, and made a dissatisfied face.
“A little cramped,” she said. “Well, never mind. I’ll survive the winter somehow.”
She began unpacking. Emily went into the kitchen with a small, tight knot of irritation in her stomach. Cramped? The room was about one hundred sixty square feet—more than enough for one person.
The first few days passed more or less peacefully. Linda settled in, arranged her belongings, and learned her way around the apartment. Emily worked in her room, Michael left for the office each morning, and her mother-in-law mostly kept herself occupied.