I never thought a simple family potluck could turn into such drama. But then again, with my sister-in-law Jessica in charge, I should’ve expected it.
Jessica and I had never gotten along. No matter how much I tried, she always had a way of making me feel small. She loved showing off her designer clothes, expensive jewelry, and fancy vacations. And of course, it didn’t help that my husband Mark and I were struggling just to get by after he lost his job.
“I can’t make any excuses for my sister,” Mark told me one evening when I came home upset after talking to Jessica. He squeezed my hand. “I know how frustrated you get, and I wish I could make it easier for you.”
I sighed. “I don’t want you to get in the middle of this. She’s your sister. I’ll just ignore her as much as I can.”
The truth was, our life had turned upside down after Mark’s boss, Steven, replaced him with younger employees.
“I don’t understand why he’d want kids with no experience to take over,” Mark muttered bitterly one night, staring at the bills on the table.
Money was tight. I picked up two part-time jobs, and Mark did odd jobs, sometimes helping a mechanic to learn the trade. Our evenings were spent counting pennies, trying to stretch our little income.
Mark would look at me sometimes with guilt in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Emily. I promise I’ll get us through this. I’m still applying, still trying to get back into finance.”
I always reassured him. “I know you are. We just need one good break, and things will turn around.”
But life seemed determined to test us even more.
One afternoon, my phone buzzed. Jessica. My heart sank immediately.
“Hi Emily,” she drawled over the phone.
“Jess, hi,” I said, already regretting picking up.
“Don’t forget about the potluck this weekend,” she said sweetly, but her words dripped with superiority. “It has a theme. Luxury foods. I’ll send you all a list of what to bring.”
My stomach knotted. When her message popped up in the family group chat later, my fears were confirmed.
Hi family, remember that the theme for the potluck is luxury. Here are the things you can bring: gourmet cheeses, imported chocolates, and high-end wines. Pick a country and bring something from it!
I groaned. Jessica could say things like this so easily—her rich husband could buy anything without blinking. But for Mark and me, even basic groceries were a stretch.
“I know you don’t want to go,” Mark said gently when I showed him the message. “But you can’t miss this one. It’s for Dad’s retirement. It means a lot to him.”
He was right. I couldn’t let my frustration with Jessica stop me from honoring my father-in-law.
“But how are we supposed to afford anything on that list?” I asked, feeling overwhelmed.
Mark set his fork down at dinner. “Forget her list. Make something homemade. Make your casserole—it’s delicious. Jess can’t complain about something made with love.”
That gave me hope. My grandmother’s casserole recipe had always been a hit in my family, and I knew Mark loved it.
On the morning of the potluck, I carefully baked the casserole, filling the house with its comforting smell. Mark grinned before leaving for his shift. “That’s the best dish in the world, Em. Don’t let her tell you otherwise.”
I arrived at Jessica’s big fancy house clutching my casserole. I barely made it into the kitchen before she spotted me.
Her eyes narrowed. “Emily, what is this?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
I smiled politely. “It’s a family recipe. I thought it would be nice to bring something homemade.”
“Homemade?” Jessica scoffed loudly. “This is a luxury potluck, not a soup kitchen. Everyone else is bringing delicacies. Gretchen is bringing three types of caviar, for goodness’ sake! And you bring… this?”
She waved her hand at my casserole like it was garbage.
My cheeks burned red. “I couldn’t afford the things on your list,” I said softly. “Mark and I are doing the best we can.”
Jessica crossed her arms with a smirk. “Maybe if you two managed your money better, you wouldn’t be in this situation. Honestly, Emily, this is embarrassing. I can’t serve this to my guests. You should probably just leave.”
Her words stung like a slap. I bit my lip hard to keep the tears back, then quietly picked up my casserole and turned to leave.
“Emily? Where are you going?” my mother-in-law asked, spotting me by the door.
“Home,” I whispered. “I’m not feeling well. And it doesn’t feel right being here without Mark.”
She looked at me with concern. “Are you sure?”
I nodded quickly, desperate to escape before breaking down. She gave me a gentle look but didn’t press further. “Alright then. I’ll call you later to check in.”
By the time I got home, the weight of humiliation and the stress of the past year pressed down so hard I could barely breathe. I showered, trying to wash off the day.
When Mark got home that night, he found me curled up in bed. “You’re home? I thought you’d be at Jess’s.”
I told him everything, every cruel word she had said. His jaw clenched. “I’ll call her tomorrow. She doesn’t get to treat you like this.”
But before he could, karma struck first.
The next morning, while I was making pancakes, my phone rang. It was Sarah, Mark’s cousin, giggling uncontrollably.
“Emily!” she burst out. “You won’t believe what happened last night!”
My curiosity spiked. “What happened?”
“Jessica’s potluck was a disaster,” Sarah said between laughs. “Her housekeeper forgot to plug the fridge back in after cleaning. Every single dish she prepared went bad. The smell was awful! People gagged when they walked in!”
I gasped. “You’re kidding.”
“I’m serious! Everyone left early. They said it was the worst dinner ever. Her dad was upset, and her mom said the only thing that could’ve saved the evening was something you made!”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed until tears rolled down my cheeks.
Karma had worked its magic. Jessica had thrown me out for my homemade casserole, only for her grand luxury potluck to collapse in the most humiliating way possible.
And this time, I didn’t feel small at all.