We dont want you at the wedding, my children told me.
Mum, for goodness sake, why are you rewashing those plates again? Theyre already spotless! Emily sighed, watching her mother wipe the same dish for the fourth time.
What if the guests notice watermarks? Margaret squinted at the plate under the light. Its a weddingeverything has to be perfect.
Honestly, Mum, no ones going to inspect the plates! Theyll be too busy gawking at the bride and groom. Youve been stuck in the kitchen for three hours. Emily moved to hug her, but Margaret dodged.
Dont distract me, please. The salads arent done, the cake isnt decorated. Theres no time.
Shaking her head, Emily left. In the living room, her fiancé, Thomas, was fidgeting with his tie.
Love, are you sure your mum can handle this? Maybe we shouldve booked a restaurant, he whispered.
Too late nowall the guests are coming here. She insisted on hosting. Says restaurants lack soul. Emily sat beside him, squeezing his hand. Bear with her, darling. She means well.
Thomas nodded, though doubt flickered in his eyes. Margaret had spent three months preparingresearching recipes, stocking up, planning every detail. At first, Emily had adored her enthusiasmuntil her mums perfectionism turned prickly.
Em! Come taste the salad! Margaret called from the kitchen.
Emily found her mother clutching a spoon. Does it need more salt? Or is it fine?
Mum, its delicious! Stop fussingyouve asked ten times already!
Sorry for *caring*! Margaret huffed, turning away. I want everything to be nice. So Thomass parents dont think were… inadequate.
Emily rested her hands on Margarets shoulders. Mum, whats gotten into you? His parents are lovely. They wont judge your mayonnaise ratios.
Wont they? Margaret spun around. Did you hear his mother yesterday? Oh, we *always* had smoked salmon at home. Smoked salmon! And here I am with egg sandwiches…
She didnt mean it like that. She was just reminiscing.
Pfft! I hear them whispering. Margaret lives *modestly*. Should I be ashamed I raised you alone after your father left?
Emily fell silent. That wound always achedespecially now, with old insecurities bubbling up.
No one judges you, Mum. Everyone knows youve done brilliantly.
Brilliantly, Margaret scoffed. Thomass parents have a *three-storey house*. Ive got a semi-detached and a buffet table.
I dont *care* about their house! Emily snapped. Im marrying *Thomas*, not his family!
Thomas appeared, drawn by raised voices. Everything alright?
Fine! Margaret wiped her hands briskly. Just finalising the menu. Nearly done.
He surveyed the kitchenplatters of finger food, salads, mains simmering. The air smelled heavenly.
Margaret, this is incredible. My parents will be *thrilled*.
Oh, stop, she mumbled, though her cheeks pinked.
No, really! Restaurant foods all style, no heart. This? This has *soul*.
For the first time that day, Margaret smiled.
Tea, love? Or coffee? Ill make a fresh pot.
Mum, guests arrive in an hour, Emily reminded her. You still need to change.
Blimey, youre right! Margaret flapped her hands. My dress isnt ironed, my hairs a *mess*
Go shower. Ill finish here. Emily took her apron.
Dont touch the cake! Margaret called over her shoulder. Ill ice the roses myself!
Thomas hugged Emily. Your mums stressing. Can we help?
Shed just redo it. Wants everything just so for your parents.
But why? Were not marrying *them*.
Try telling her that. Shes spent her life proving shes enough.
Thomas pondered. What if I ask my parents to compliment her cooking? Say its the best theyve had?
Would you?
Absolutely. Look how much effort shes put in.
Emily kissed his cheek. Thank you. Shell *glow*.
Half an hour later, Margaret emergedhair curled, lips painted, wrapped in a navy dress.
Do I look alright?
Stunning! Thomas beamed.
Gorgeous, Mum. Emily hugged her. Proper mother-of-the-bride!
Margaret fussed with her hem. Oh! The *cake*I forgot the icing swirls
Guests are ringing the bell, Emily said, peeking out. Leave itits perfect.
Margaret, trust us, Thomas added. Go greet everyone. Well handle this.
Thomass parents arrived first. His mother, Eleanora poised woman in a tailored suitglanced around. Margaret stiffened, awaiting verdict.
So *cosy*, Eleanor said. You can tell a family lives here.
Margaret brightened. Please, sit! Make yourselves at home.
Guests trickled inEmilys uni mates, neighbours, a few relatives. Laughter filled the cramped semi. Margaret darted between rooms, refilling drinks, nudging nibbles.
Margaret, *join* us! boomed Thomass father, Henry. Youre the hostesswe barely see you!
Oh, but theres so much to
Nonsense! Sit. He patted the chair beside him.
Margaret perched awkwardly.
Did you make this coronation chicken? Eleanor asked.
Er, yes…
*Divine.* May I have the recipe?
Margaret flushed. Its nothing special. Just good mayo and a dash of curry
And these mini quiches! gushed Emilys best friend. Auntie Meg, theyre *art*.
Honestly, Henry agreed, my wife mostly microwaves ready meals. This is *proper* cooking.
Margaret blossomed. Soon, she was sharing tips, laughing, even sipping wine.
Shes *transformed*, Emily whispered to Thomas.
Just needed to feel appreciated, he said.
Later, Eleanor took Margaret aside. Youve raised an amazing daughter. Thomas adores herits clear she grew up loved.
Margarets eyes welled. I tried. It wasnt easy alone…
And it shows. Shes kind, capablethe sort of daughter-in-law everyone dreams of.
Margaret dabbed her eyes. Thats… very kind.
And *this* food! Eleanor patted her stomach. Ive eaten so much, my zips rebelling!
Have seconds! I made loadstry the pork pies!
By nights end, only the three of them remained. Margaret, exhausted but radiant, kicked off her heels.
Well, Mum? Happy? Emily asked.
Margaret sighed. All that worrying… for nothing. Thomass parents are lovely.
*Told* you.
I thought theyd sneer at our modest life. But they value *this*real food, real warmth.
Thomas kissed her hand. Thank you, Margaret. Mums stolen *three* of your recipes.
She laughed. Silly old things.
Not silly. Made with love.
Margaret hugged them. Be happy, my dears. And if you ever need me…
We know, Mum. Emily squeezed her. Thank you. For everything.
As they headed to bed, Margaret eyed the dirty dishes.
Leave them till morning! Emily protested.
Cant. You two restnewlyweds need sleep.
They exchanged fond glances. Some things would never changeand that was *perfect*.
Alone at the sink, Margaret smiled. All her fearsof not being *enough*had melted away. Fancy houses? Fancy cars? None of it mattered. What did was the love buzzing in these walls.
Tomorrow, Emily would be a wife. But their bond? That would only grow.
Because now, Margaret wasnt just Mum.
She was *Mother-in-Law Extraordinaire*and shed *earned* the title.
