My grandson secretly gave me a walkie-talkie for our bedtime chats — one night, it ended up revealing a conversation I wasn’t meant to hear.
I live right next door to my son, Tom, his wonderful wife, Lila, and my sweet little grandson, Max, who’s 4. Years ago, I lent them $40,000 from my savings to help with their home purchase when Lila was pregnant. “This way, Max can grow up close to you,” they said. It was a significant sum, but back then, I didn’t think twice. Family closeness felt more valuable than money.
One afternoon, Max ran up to me with a toy in hand. “Grandma Annie, this is for you!” he beamed. “We can talk through the wall at bedtime, Granny!” I clipped the tiny walkie-talkie to my apron and smiled, never imagining it would uncover secrets.
Most evenings, you’d find me at the back of Murphy’s Diner, scrubbing dishes with my hands raw and sore. Bills don’t pay themselves, after all. I’ve been working nights as a dishwasher to keep things afloat. When Tom and Lila asked for help covering Max’s daycare—$800 a month—I agreed without hesitation. When you truly care, you find a way. Month after month, I sent the money, knowing Max deserved every bit of care, even if it meant stretching myself thin.
Last Wednesday, after a grueling 10-hour shift, I sank into my recliner at home, my back aching, feet aching, craving rest. The walkie-talkie on my apron crackled. I thought Max was just having fun with it.
Then I heard Lila say, “Honestly, Tom, she’s hardly ever home. Maybe we should rent out her spare room for some extra cash.”
I froze, holding the device closer.
Lila continued, “I just hope she never notices that daycare is only $500! That way, we get to keep $300 every month! I hope she doesn’t catch on with all her evening shifts.”
