We hired our struggling son to redo our home, paying him fairly. But our DIL called us “stingy jerks.” She lashed out, saying we should have simply gifted him the money instead of making him “work for it.” Things escalated rather badly when she discovered we’d given our son a $12,000 bonus he never told her about. My husband and I aren’t rich, but we’re stable.
We’ve worked hard all our lives—me as a nurse, him in HVAC. We’ve never lived lavishly, but we’ve always had enough for what mattered. When our youngest son, Avi, hit a rough patch after losing his job at a construction firm, we wanted to help in a way that would preserve his dignity.
He’s proud, always has been. Doesn’t like handouts. So instead of handing him cash, we offered him a job.
Our 40-year-old house needed serious updates. The kitchen was straight out of the ‘80s. The bathrooms had that faded pink tile that nobody under 70 would voluntarily choose.
We’d been saving to get it all redone, and figured—why not Avi? We drafted a simple agreement. Paid him $38/hour, more than fair, and covered materials.
Plus, we told him there’d be a surprise bonus at the end if he stuck with it. He was thrilled. Said he felt like himself again.
His wife, Yasmin? Not so much. From the very beginning, she gave us a strange vibe.
We’d always gotten along decently, but once Avi started working for us, her tone shifted. Suddenly everything was “unfair.” She complained about the hours he worked, even though he kept his own schedule. Said we were “taking advantage” of him—though he came to us.
Then, that comment—stingy jerks. It stung more than I care to admit. I tried brushing it off.
Maybe she was stressed, I told myself. They had two toddlers at home, rent overdue, and Yasmin had just quit her part-time job. Still, hearing your daughter-in-law speak about you like that behind your back—especially when you’re just trying to help—hurts.
Avi didn’t know she’d said it. My friend Priya had overheard it at a birthday party—Yasmin venting to someone by the punch bowl, not realizing Priya was standing behind her. I let it go.
I didn’t want to put Avi in the middle. The work moved along slowly but beautifully. Avi’s craftsmanship blew me away.
He retiled the entire kitchen with these gorgeous matte blue-gray subway tiles I’d picked out. Refinished the cabinets. Put in under-cabinet lighting.
The bathroom had heated floors now. Heated floors! We gave him the bonus—a check for $12,000—as soon as the job wrapped.
He got misty-eyed. Hugged me for a long time. I told him, “You earned it.” And I meant it.
But he didn’t tell Yasmin. I don’t know why he didn’t, and to this day, I still wonder. Guilt?
Fear? Maybe just wanting one thing for himself. We only found out she didn’t know when she showed up at our house one afternoon—fuming.
“You gave him TWELVE GRAND? And he didn’t even TELL me?” she hissed, standing on our porch like she was about to start swinging. “You people really think money can buy love, huh?”
It took me a second to realize what she was saying.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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