Home Moral Stories My SIL Reprogrammed My Oven So the Christmas Turkey Would Burn and...

My SIL Reprogrammed My Oven So the Christmas Turkey Would Burn and Embarrass Me in Front of Guests

Josh and I had been married for six months, and holiday gatherings with his family were a big deal. Every decoration had to be perfect, every dish had to be traditional, and every detail had to be just so.

“Sam, stop fidgeting with the tablecloth,” Josh said. “Everything looks so perfect.”

I smoothed my apron for the hundredth time. “I just want it to be right. It’s our first time hosting Christmas dinner.”

“Remember how we first met at the office Christmas party? You organized the whole thing and it was amazing.”

I smiled at the memory. Two years ago, I was the new marketing director, and he was the CFO who couldn’t take his eyes off me all evening.

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The doorbell chimed, and my heart jumped.

“Did you hear about Grandma’s announcement?” Josh’s cousin Maria whispered as she helped me arrange appetizers. “Alice has been calling her every day for weeks.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes. Sending her flowers, bringing her lunch, and even offering to redecorate her entire house. Talk about obvious.”

The doorbell rang again, and there stood Alice, perfectly coiffed as always, carrying a store-bought pie that probably cost more than my entire dinner setup.

“Sam, sweetie,” she air-kissed my cheeks. “Bold of you to host the Christmas party this year. Especially with Grandma’s big announcement coming up.”

I forced a smile. Everyone knew Grandma Eloise was finally retiring and choosing which grandchild would inherit her successful catering business.

“Alice, you’re looking great,” I said.

“Something smells wonderful,” she announced, hugging me warmly.

I beamed with pride. “The turkey should be perfect. I used your recipe, the one you shared at Thanksgiving!”

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“Did you know?” Alice interrupted, swirling her wine glass. “Interesting choice, considering your… limited experience with family traditions.”

Josh shot his sister a wa:rning look. “Alice—”

“What?

I was just about to check on the turkey when Alice’s voice cut through the living room chatter.

“Does anyone else smell something funny? Like something BURNING?!”

Racing to the kitchen, I yanked open the oven door. Smoke billowed out, and there sat my precious turkey, BLACK as COAL. The oven display showed 475 degrees… nearly 200 degrees HIGHER than what I’d set it to.

“Oh no,”

“This is impossible. I checked it just 20 minutes ago. It was… perfect.”

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Before either of us could speak, Grandma Eloise cleared her throat.

“Well,” she said, her voice cutting through the chaos. “I suppose now is as good a time as any for my announcement.”

“It’s bad to spoil dinner on Christmas night,” Grandma continued.

“But it’s much worse to lie and frame people. Especially on Christmas.”

“What do you mean, Grandma?” Alice’s voice wavered.

“You were so busy with your lies and your dirty little plan that when you snuck into the kitchen to reprogram the oven, you didn’t even notice me sitting in the corner.”

Alice’s face went white. “I… I was just trying to help! I wanted to check the temperature and—”

“Save it,”

“The business,” Grandma announced, “is going to Josh.”

Image for illustrative purpose only.

Alice burst into tears and ran out, leaving behind only the echo of the slamming door.

“Grandma,” Josh said softly, leading me forward. “We’re honored, but we can’t accept the business.”

“Oh?” Grandma’s eyebrows rose.

“Sell the business,” I said. “Use the money to set up college funds for all the younger kids in the family. That way, your legacy would help everyone.”

Josh smiled. “She’s right! The business means so much to this family, Grandma. We think it should benefit everyone and not just one person.”

The evening transformed into something unexpected but wonderful.

Boxes of Chinese food covered our carefully set dining table, and the formal Christmas dinner turned into a casual family feast.

Josh’s father chuckled. “Best Christmas ever, if you ask me!”

Maria raised her glass. “To new traditions?”

“To new traditions,” everyone echoed.

As we finished cleaning, I couldn’t help but smile at the fortune cookie message left on the counter: “Family is not about blood, but about who is willing to hold your hand when you need it most.”