I pushed my concerns aside and focused on celebrating their love. After all, what mother doesn’t have some adjustment period with her daughter-in-law. I convinced myself that time would smooth these rough edges between us.
Little did I know how wrong I was. The wedding planning process revealed sides of Natalie I had been trying not to see. What started as minor disagreements evolved into a pattern of disrespect that became increasingly difficult to ignore.
During the menu tasting, I suggested including Frank’s favorite dish as a tribute to him. Natalie rolled her eyes when she thought I wasn’t looking and whispered something to her maid of honor that made them both snicker. Later, she announced she had completely revamped the menu with elevated options that better reflected their sophisticated pallet.
Jackson looked uncomfortable but said nothing. The venue was another battleground. The Wilson family had celebrated every major event at the Lakeside Gardens for three generations.
When I mentioned this tradition, Natalie interrupted. We need something more modern and exclusive. No offense, Babette, but we’re thinking of spaces that haven’t been around since the Stone Age.
Her friends laughed. Jackson looked at his shoes. At the rehearsal dinner, I overheard a conversation that chilled me to the bone.
While in the restroom, I entered a stall just as Natalie and two of her bridesmaids came in. “God, is this night ever going to end?” Natalie’s voice echoed against the tile walls. “The old lady just will not stop with her suggestions and her traditions and her memories of Precious Frank.”
“At least she’s paying for everything,” one friend responded. “And there’s the money coming after. 120 million reasons to put up with her,” Natalie said, followed by laughter.
“Once that’s in our account, things will be different. Jackson already agrees we should move across the country. Says he needs space from his mother’s influence.” I stood frozen, unable to breathe. Jackson wanted to move away.
He hadn’t mentioned this to me. And the way Natalie spoke about the inheritance as if it were her primary motivation. I felt physically ill that night.
I called my sister Judith in tears. “I don’t think she loves him, Jude. I think she loves what comes with him.” “Have you talked to Jackson about your concerns?” Judith asked.
“I’ve tried, but whenever I bring up anything remotely critical about Natalie, he gets defensive. It’s like he has blinders on. And now I find out they’re planning to move away without even discussing it with me.”
“Maybe you need to be more direct,” Judith suggested. “Show him evidence of how she really feels.” But I couldn’t bear the thought of breaking my son’s heart right before his wedding.
I decided to wait until after the honeymoon to have a serious conversation with him, a decision I would come to regret deeply. The next day, I discovered something even more concerning. My housekeeper, Maria, mentioned that Natalie had been asking detailed questions about my daily routine, what medications I took, and whether I used sleeping aids.
When Maria asked why she wanted to know, Natalie claimed she was planning a health intervention because she was worried about my well-being. Maria didn’t believe her and felt uncomfortable enough to tell me. That same afternoon, I overheard Natalie on the phone saying, “Once we have access to the accounts, we can easily sell off those properties she’s so sentimental about. Jackson won’t put up much resistance. He always comes around to my way of thinking.”
My heart sank. The properties she referred to included the first building I ever purchased, now a community center providing free child care for single parents and the vacation home where Jackson had spent every summer growing up. These weren’t just assets, they were parts of our family history.
I decided to do some research on Natalie’s background. What I discovered was troubling. She had claimed to have graduated from Parson’s School of Design, but a call to their alumni office revealed no record of her attendance.
The family money she often referenced had apparently evaporated in some never explained financial disaster. And most concerning, she had been engaged twice before both times to wealthy men, with both engagements ending mysteriously just before the weddings. When I gently tried to broach the subject of her education with Jackson, mentioning I was putting together a detailed wedding announcement for the local paper, he cut me off.
“Mom, stop digging into Natalie’s past. She’s had a difficult life and doesn’t like to talk about it. I need you to respect that.” The night before the wedding, we held a small family dinner. Natalie was especially solicitous, insisting I try a particular wine she had selected just for me.
It had a strange aftertaste, but I drank it to be polite. She also suggested I take one of her special herbal sleep supplements to ensure I was well rested for the big day. Something in her tone made me uneasy, so I pretended to take it, but disposed of it later.