Off The Record
My Aunt Stole The Money For My Grandparents Wedding—She Regretted It When Karma Struck Back
All my grandparents wanted was for their ideal wedding to be a reality. They were finally going to have their shot after 53 years… Until my aunt took their wedding money because she thought her daughter’s automobile was more important than their ambitions. However, nothing could have prepared her for what was about to happen.
The tale of Grandma Mae and Grandpa Harold’s meeting was told to me growing up. She was juggling three plates and a freshly brewed pot of coffee while working the morning shift at Rosie’s Diner. He was reading a book while seated at a corner table. Her elbow bumped the pot as she reached over to refill his cup, splashing hot coffee into his lap.
She saw the dark stain spread across his khakis as she stood motionless, coffee pot still in hand.
Stuttering, “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I’m so, so sorry. I’ll pay for the cleaning. I’ll…”
He grinned as he glanced up at her. The kind of courteous smile that individuals wear while they’re secretly angry. An actual one.
“Tell you what,” he added, using a napkin to wipe his hands. “If you still give me good service after this disaster, I’ll leave you the biggest tip you’ve ever seen.”
She blinked. “That’s it? You’re not mad?”
“Sweetheart, life’s too short to be mad about coffee.”
They were both taken aback by what she said after biting her lip. “If you still leave me a tip after I ruined your dress, I’ll marry you.”
They both chuckled. Two hours later, he departed the diner with a $20 bill—half a week’s salary at the time—under his plate.
They were married at the courthouse two months later. No cake, no flowers, no wedding dress. Except for the court clerk who acted as their witness, there were no guests or even a traditional wedding ring.
They had nothing else to buy, so Grandpa crafted her a ring out of a gum wrapper. Before he got her a real one, she wore it around her neck on a chain for three years.
Grandma would always say, “One day, when we’re not so busy just surviving, we’ll have our real wedding. The kind we should’ve had from the start,” as she gazed at the small gold band on her finger throughout my youth.
They began saving for it two years ago. Nothing complex. A modest celebration with cake, a tiny band, flowers, and perhaps fifty guests at the community hall near the lake.
Grandma kept their funds in an old flowered tin box on the top shelf of the linen closet, nestled amid photo albums and quilts, and they dubbed it the “Happily-Ever-After Fund.” Each month, Grandpa would put in a portion of his folded pension check. Three days a week, Grandma volunteered at the thrift store, and she would add her tips.
They had saved around $5,000 by April.
I recall the evening at Sunday dinner when Grandma told everyone. Like a child displaying a report card full of As, her face was glowing.
Saying, “We’re almost there,” she squeezed Grandpa’s hand. “By June, we’ll finally have our wedding.”
Everyone applauded. Mom started crying. Even my emotionless father became a little hazy.
Except for Aunt Denise, everyone.
She pushed her mashed potatoes about her plate while seated at the end of the table. She grinned, but there was more hidden in her eyes. I saw her look down at her lap, then at Grandma, then at Grandpa.
And my stomach started to feel chilly.
Mom’s younger sister is Aunt Denise. In reality, she is the type of person who describes herself as “living life on my own terms”—that is, she constantly jumps from crisis to crisis, expecting others to take care of the mess.
Two separations. Three companies that failed. Brooke believes the world should give her everything because she spoilt her kid so much.
There is a new emergency every few months. Brooke has to pay for a field trip. Her laptop died. The screen of her phone cracked. And Aunt Denise always arrives with that same look of helplessness at family dinners.
“I just need a little help,” she would reply, using a tissue to wipe at her eyes. “I hate asking, but I’m doing this alone, and it’s so hard.”
Usually someone would give in. Grandma and Grandpa, usually.
In March of that year, Aunt Denise launched her campaign right away after Brooke’s automobile broke down.
She let out a loud sigh at dinner and added, “I don’t know what we’re going to do,” “My daughter starts college in the fall, and she needs reliable transportation. I’ve been looking at used cars, but everything’s so expensive.”
She hesitated, looking around the table as if she was anticipating an offer. No one did. That lesson had come to us all the hard way.
However, I noticed how she kept looking at Grandma that evening. When Grandma brought up the wedding fund, she leaned forward. My skin crawled.
Early on a Tuesday morning, the call came in. My phone buzzed while I was hardly conscious.
On the other end, Grandma’s voice cracked, “Honey?” “Can you come over?”
I quickly sat up. “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Is Grandpa…”
Her voice cracked as she said, “We’re fine. We’re both fine. It’s just…” “The money’s gone.”
My heart stopped beating. “What do you mean gone?”
“The tin box. It’s empty. Harold thought maybe I’d moved it somewhere safe and forgotten about it. But I didn’t move it, Miley. I swear I didn’t.”
Five minutes later, I was out the door.
Grandma was seated at the kitchen table with the empty tin box in front of her when I arrived. She touched it with trembling hands, as if if she continued checking, the money might magically reappear.
Standing beside the window, Grandpa gazed at nothing.
“Show me,” I responded.
I followed Grandma to the linen closet. The door was ajar a little. Upon careful inspection, I noticed new scratches close to the lock. It had been forced open by someone, most likely using a knife or a screwdriver.
Despite knowing the answer, I inquired, “Who’s been here recently?”
Grandma disclosed, “Denise and Brooke came for dinner Sunday night,” “They left early. Brooke said she had a migraine.”
She did, of course.
I took my phone out and went to Instagram. I found what I was seeking for in precisely thirty seconds.
The most recent post from Brooke was posted yesterday morning. She was beaming from ear to ear as she stood by a silver Honda. The caption
“New car, who dis? 🚗✨ #Blessed #MyMomIsTheBest”
I was considering hurling my phone against the wall. But there in Grandma’s kitchen, I made a call to Aunt Denise.
She sounded irritated as she responded on the third ring. “What?”
“Did you take Grandma and Grandpa’s savings?”
Quiet. Then “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Did you steal their wedding fund?”
As if I had slapped her, she gasped. “How dare you accuse me of something like that! I can’t believe you’d even think…”
“Then where did Brooke get the money for that car she posted about?”
One more pause. This time, longer.
Her voice had changed by the time she spoke again. It moved more smoothly as if she had pressed a switch. “Oh, that! I borrowed it. I was going to pay it back once my tax refund came through.”
“Borrowed? That was their wedding fund, Aunt Denise. They’ve been saving for two years.”
She laughed. “A wedding? Come on, Miley! They’re in their 70s. What do they need a wedding for? Brooke needed that car for college. It was more important than this… circus.”
“More important than keeping your word? More important than not stealing from your own parents?”
She yelled, “Don’t you dare take that tone with me,” “I’m your elder. Family helps family. That’s what we do.”
Before I said something I couldn’t take back, I hung up. However, everything clicked into place as I watched Grandma sob into Grandpa’s shoulder.
I couldn’t reverse Aunt Denise’s actions. However, I could still ensure my grandparents’ wedding.
I sat at my laptop that evening and gazed at my bank account. I had been setting aside funds from my part-time work at the bookshop for about a year. In order to commute to work without using Mom’s minivan, I had hoped to purchase a used automobile that would be dependable.
There was $5,247 left over. What Grandma and Grandpa had lost was nearly identical.
Brooke’s self-satisfied grin in her Instagram picture sprang to mind. as well as Aunt Denise’s voice when she said that their ideal wedding was irrelevant. Then I remembered Grandma’s expression when she mentioned donning a bridal gown at last.
Every cent was transferred by me.
I began calling Grandma’s book club ladies, her church acquaintances, and those who had known my grandparents for decades the following morning.
“We’re throwing them a surprise wedding,” I said. “Can you help?”
Everyone agreed.
A three-tier cake was donated by the proprietor of the bakery. All of the arrangements were done for free by a retired florist. After hearing the account, the community center waived the rental cost. I had a whole wedding planned in less than a week.
The only individuals I kept a secret from? Brooke with Aunt Denise. Rather, three days prior to the occasion, I gave Aunt Denise a call.
I said nicely, “On Saturday night, we’re having a small family dinner.” “To celebrate Grandma and Grandpa’s anniversary. Can you bring dessert to the community center downtown?”
She was overjoyed. “Of course! I’d love to help. What should I bring?”
“Whatever you want. Just make it special.”
It was deliciously ironic.
I got at the community center two hours early on Saturday night. In the passenger seat was the dress box. It was a plain white dress with lace sleeves and a silky chiffon skirt that I had discovered at a bridal boutique’s clearance sale. It’s nothing special, but it’s the same dress that Grandma would have picked out 53 years ago if she had the chance.
Grandma had a dish of deviled eggs and was dressed for Sunday when she came.
She said, “Let me help set up,” and started to go to the kitchen.
I stopped her. “Before you do anything, I have something for you.”
I gave the box to her.
She knitted her brow. “What’s this?”
“Open it.”
Grandma opened the cover. She merely gazed for an instant. Then she reached for her mouth.
Whispering, “Oh my God,” she said. “Is this..?”
I remarked, “Your wedding dress,” “You never got to wear one. Now you will.”
Her cheeks were wet with tears. “Sweetheart, you didn’t have to…”
“I did. And you’re putting it on right now. You’re getting married to Grandpa!”
There was silence in the room as she left the restroom ten minutes later.
Grandpa pivoted. His eyes widened. Then he put his fist to his mouth and his face crumbled.
“Mae,” he said in a raspy voice. “You look exactly like the day I met you.”
Through her tears, she chuckled. “I spilled coffee on you that day.”
“Best mistake of my life.”
The audience exploded in cheers.
Aunt Denise then entered.
As usual, she was late. She had a plastic tray of cupcakes from the grocery shop and was overly perfumed. Following her, Brooke browsed through her phone.
When Aunt Denise spotted Grandma in the white outfit, she came to a complete halt.
Hersing, “What is this?”
I grinned. “It’s their wedding!”
She opened and closed her mouth. “I thought this was just dinner.”
“Well, since you borrowed their wedding money, I figured you’d want to help celebrate. Why don’t you start serving drinks?”
Her face turned a deep shade of red. “You can’t talk to me like that.”
Grandpa’s voice was upbeat as he called across the room. “Denise! Grab some plates, would you? You’re so good at helping yourself!”
The crowd erupted in laughter.
Pulling her mother’s arm, Brooke did so. “Mom, let’s just go.”
“Oh, don’t leave yet, dear. The sheriff hasn’t given his toast,” Grandma remarked with a charming smile.
Aunt Denise stopped. “The sheriff?”
As if he had just won the jackpot, Sheriff Daniels entered the room with a smile on his face. He had been aware of the plot from the start and was Grandpa’s fishing partner.
He said, “Evening, folks!” “Hope I’m not interrupting the honeymoon!”
Everyone chuckled.
His hat was tipped. “Harold, Mae, congratulations. And I figured you’d want to know… we solved that little mystery about your missing wedding money.”
There was silence in the room. The color left Aunt Denise’s face.
Sheriff Daniels went on nonchalantly. “Turns out that new security camera of yours works really well. Caught some pretty clear footage around 10 p.m. last month. Woman in a red jacket and leopard-print purse, sneaking out with a fistful of cash.”
A pin could have dropped.
Aunt Denise said, “That could be anyone,”
The sheriff gave a contemplative nod. “True. Except this particular person looked right at the camera and said… and I’m quoting here, ‘They’ll never notice it’s gone.'”
All heads turned to look at Aunt Denise.
Brooke had a terrified expression. “Mom, you didn’t.”
Denise stumbled. “I was going to give it back. I swear, I was…”
Daniels, the Sheriff, smiled. “Well, you better give it back real quick, or those handcuffs in my cruiser are gonna feel awfully tight!”
The laughter and applause in the room erupted. Aunt Denise snatched up her handbag and ran off. Red in the face, Brooke followed.
Grandma and Grandpa stood together under the string lights after the laughter subsided. Their church’s pastor opened his Bible.
Repeating vows they had waited fifty years to utter correctly, their hands trembled as they held each other.
Grandpa responded, “I do,” in an emotionally charged voice. “Forever and always, Mae.”
“I do,” Grandma said in a whisper. “Even when you steal all the blankets at night.”
Everyone simultaneously sobbed and laughed.
The cake was sliced by Grandma and Grandpa. As everyone applauded, they posed for photos under the sparkling lights and danced barefoot on the wooden floor.
Grandma once drew me away from her. “You spent your own money on this, didn’t you?”
I gave a shrug. “You spent your whole life taking care of everyone else. Someone needed to return the favor.”
She gave me such a strong hug that I was having trouble breathing. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to this family.”
Aunt Denise texted our family conversation three weeks later:
“I’m sorry. I was under a lot of stress. I hope you can forgive me. I’ll return the money soon. Promise.”
Grandma responded, “We forgive you, Denise. But forgiveness doesn’t mean we’ll ever trust you with our tin boxes again.”
My grandparents took a honeymoon trip to the mountains with the money they got back and any remaining donations from the village. After 53 years, they finally took a vacation.
The living room now displays their wedding photo. Grandma wearing a white gown. In his old jacket, Grandpa. They were both smiling like teens.
“And that security camera? Best investment we ever made.” Grandpa points to the photo whenever I come, saying, “That’s what a real happy ending looks like.”
I always chuckle.
The best kind of retaliation for someone attempting to take your dreams is not getting even. In any case, it’s about ensuring those dreams come true. greater and superior beyond what they had ever envisioned.
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