Jean was sobbing now, big, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “Please, Grandma, don’t take my bike. I love it so much.”
Jacqueline seemed unmoved. She opened the trunk of her car and started to lift the bike in. I rushed over and grabbed the handlebars. “You’re not taking this bike. This is cruel and unfair to Jean.”
She glared at me. “You don’t understand. Kate is my daughter, and I have to keep her happy. Mia is just a little girl. She can’t be disappointed.”
I couldn’t believe the nerve of this woman. “And Jean isn’t a little girl? She’s your granddaughter too. You can’t play favorites like this. It’s not right.”
Just then, my husband, Tom, pulled into the driveway. He saw the commotion and jumped out of his car. “What’s going on here?” he asked, looking from me to his mother.
I quickly explained the situation, and Tom’s face hardened. “Mom, this is completely unacceptable. You can’t just take back a gift you gave Jean. It’s her bike, and she loves it.”
Jacqueline started to protest, but Tom cut her off. “No, Mom. You’re in the wrong here. If you want to make Mia happy, you figure out a way to buy her a bike without stealing from Jean. We’re not going to let you do this.”
Jacqueline stood there, her face red with anger and embarrassment. After a long moment, she let go of the bike. “Fine,” she said through gritted teeth. “But you’ll all be sorry. Kate will be furious with me.”
I didn’t care about Kate’s fury. I was more concerned about Jean. I picked her up and held her tight as she cried into my shoulder. Tom put his arm around both of us.
As Jacqueline drove away, I knew this incident had changed things. Our already strained relationship with her was now at an all – time low. But more importantly, I had to find a way to comfort Jean and make sure she knew that her bike was safe and that she was loved.
Over the next few days, I made a point to spend extra time with Jean. We went on long bike rides together, exploring the neighborhood and having fun. I also talked to her about how sometimes grown – ups make mistakes, but that didn’t mean her bike was going to be taken away.
A week later, we received a package in the mail. It was from Jacqueline. Inside was a brand – new, pink bicycle, exactly like Jean’s, but with a note that said, “For Mia. I’m sorry, Jean. Love, Grandma.”
I wasn’t sure what had changed Jacqueline’s mind, but I was glad she had finally done the right thing. Jean was excited to see that her grandma had gotten Mia a bike of her own. And even though our relationship with Jacqueline would always be complicated, I hoped this was a step towards a better future.
