The Year I Finally Stood My Ground

They were making a massive mess, and the timing was completely off, but they were doing it together. For the first time in ten years, I wasn’t the one sweating over the stove, and for the first time in ten years, they were actually talking to each other instead of just waiting to be fed.

As the evening wore on, the smell of roasting meat and herbs finally filled the air. It wasn’t the perfect meal I usually prepared—the gravy was a bit lumpy and the carrots were slightly burnt—but when we all sat down at that long table, something felt different. Silas stood up and raised a glass, but he didn’t toast to the “holiday spirit.” He looked directly at me and said, “Arthur, we were jerks. We thought this house was the magic, but it was actually the work you put in.”

That was the first twist—the realization that they didn’t just need my house; they finally understood the value of the effort. But the second twist came after dinner when we were all sitting around the fire. Beatrix pulled out a small, wrapped envelope and handed it to me. “We didn’t just come here because the pipes burst,” she admitted, looking down at her hands. “We were actually on our way here anyway to apologize, but we were too proud to call and say we were coming.”

She explained that after a few hours at her place, they had all realized how miserable they were without the “anchor.” They had taken a vote and decided that regardless of whether I let them in, they were going to bring the party to me and pay for every cent of the food.

The envelope didn’t just contain the $700 I’d spent the previous year; it contained nearly $2,000. They had all chipped in extra to start a “Holiday Fund” so that I would never have to pay for a family meal again.

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