My Mother Was in the Hospital When My Mother-in-Law Moved Into Her Home

The ambulance had barely pulled away from my mother’s apartment building when my husband asked a question that made me stare at him.

“So your mom is going to be in the hospital for more than a week, and that whole place is just going to sit empty?”

My name is Natalie Mercer, and until that night, I had always believed my husband’s biggest weakness was his inability to say no to his mother.

I was about to learn it was much worse than that.

My mother, Diane Holloway, had been feeling terrible for nearly an hour. She was pale, exhausted, and barely able to stand comfortably. I stayed beside her while the paramedics prepared to take her to the hospital.

My husband, Brent, stood near the front door.

He didn’t ask whether she needed anything.

Instead, he looked at me and said, “What am I supposed to do about dinner?”

I almost laughed because I couldn’t believe he was serious.

“There’s pasta in the refrigerator. Heat it up.”

Then I followed my mother to the hospital.

Several hours later, the doctor told us she would be okay, but she needed to remain there for observation and treatment for at least ten days.

I finally relaxed.

Then my phone rang.

It was Brent’s mother, Colleen.

The Question Behind Her Concern

At first, Colleen sounded worried.

“Natalie, sweetheart, how is Diane doing?”

I explained that Mom was stable.

There was a pause.

Then came the question she had apparently been waiting to ask.

“And what about her condo?”

My mother lived alone in a spacious three-bedroom condo in a quiet neighborhood outside Raleigh, North Carolina. It had large windows, mature trees outside, and a small balcony overlooking a landscaped park.

She had recently renovated the place with money she had carefully saved.

Colleen had always loved it.

Perhaps a little too much.

“It’s locked,” I said.

“Do you have the keys?”

Something about the question bothered me.

“Yes.”

Colleen quickly explained that she was only concerned about the property sitting empty.

I ended the conversation and tried not to think about it.

Two mornings later, Brent brought it up again.

“Someone should probably stay at your mom’s condo while she’s gone.”

I looked over my coffee cup.

“Why?”

He shifted in his chair.

“Mom hasn’t been sleeping well. Her neighborhood is noisy, and she says the air near your mom’s place would be better for her.”

I stared at him.

“Your mother wants to live in my mother’s home while my mother is in the hospital?”

“Not live there. Just stay for a few days.”

“No.”

That should have ended the conversation.

It didn’t.

The Missing Key

The following evening, I noticed something missing from the small bowl near our front door.

A spare key.

It belonged to my mother’s condo.

I found Brent in the kitchen.

“Where is Mom’s spare key?”

He avoided my eyes.

“I took it earlier.”

“Why?”

“I stopped by to check the place.”

I held out my hand.

“Give it back.”

He searched his jacket and then claimed he must have left it somewhere.

That was when I understood.

He had given it to Colleen.

My husband had heard me say no and decided my answer didn’t matter.

I could have started an argument.

Instead, I walked into the bathroom, turned on the faucet so Brent couldn’t hear me, and made one phone call.

The woman I called was Brent’s aunt, Marjorie.

Colleen’s older sister-in-law.

And possibly the last person Colleen would ever want staying in her house.

“Aunt Marjorie,” I said pleasantly. “How would you feel about free accommodations in Raleigh for a few days?”

There was a long pause.

Then she laughed.

My Mother-in-Law Had Already Moved In

The next afternoon, I went to my mother’s condo.

Brent had repeatedly told me not to go, which only confirmed my suspicions.

Fortunately, I had another key he didn’t know about.

The moment I opened the door, I smelled Colleen’s perfume.

Two suitcases were sitting in the hallway.

I walked toward my mother’s bedroom and stopped.

Her clothes had been removed from the closet and piled across the bed.

In their place were Colleen’s jackets, dresses, shoes, and handbags.

She wasn’t visiting.

She was moving in.

Colleen turned around and nearly dropped the sweater in her hands.

“Natalie! What are you doing here?”

I almost admired the question.

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

She straightened her shoulders.

“Brent gave me permission.”

“Brent doesn’t own this condo.”

Colleen waved her hand dismissively.

“Diane is in the hospital. Nobody was using the place.”

I looked at my mother’s belongings.