From what my mom later told me, the evening started beautifully. The restaurant glowed with soft lighting, and the scent of truffle oil and rosemary filled the air. My in-laws, dressed impeccably as always, ordered the most extravagant items on the menu — oysters, steak, the chef’s special pasta, and two bottles of imported wine.
They toasted, laughed, and told stories about “the good old days.”
When the waiter placed the leather folder on the table, a silence swept through the group. My father-in-law patted his coat pockets. My mother-in-law gasped softly.
“Oh dear, I must’ve left my purse in the car,” she said.
“Same here,” my father-in-law added quickly. “Would you mind covering it, dear? We’ll settle it next time.”
One by one, they excused themselves, murmuring about phone calls and fresh air, until my mom was sitting alone at the table — a $1,500 bill staring up at her.
My Mom’s Brilliant Move
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