The doors opened, and I walked in, smelling sunscreen and lobby flowers. Behind the counter, I saw Grandpa, standing still, holding a paper that shook slightly.
“They told me it was their treat,” he said. “I didn’t want to cause trouble.”
Two months before, Grandpa had retired at 74 after 52 years as a machinist. Quiet, old-school, always giving. For his birthday, we decided to take him to a luxury beach resort. My cousin Ashley planned it all, promising it was “our treat.”
Grandpa packed his bag and came along, but when I arrived, he was alone, suitcase packed, holding a $12,000 bill. He said Ashley had told him to just sign. I was furious.
I called Ashley, who brushed it off. “He has savings. It’s not like he’s struggling,” she said, as if it was normal to leave an elderly man with such a bill.
I paid the hotel bill, got the itemized charges, and called a lawyer. The next morning, I sent formal letters and Venmo requests to everyone. They slowly paid back every cent, except for Grandpa’s portion, which I kept out.
Grandpa never asked for help, but I wanted him to enjoy the vacation he deserved. After all the payments, we moved on. He spent more time in the garden, and we went to lunch more often. He was lighter, freer.
As for me? I don’t care if they ever speak to me again. No one messes with Grandpa on my watch.
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