"No, no, no. Personal matters are personal—but the barbecue recipe is the wager."
The moment the recipe came up, Grandma Connie turned serious. "There are still two days left this week. Let's wish that chubby guy good luck."
Mentally, Grandma Connie was still looking down on George.
This was pretty much the classic dynamic between a mother-in-law and a son-in-law who just couldn't stand each other.
Seeing that Mike still wanted to say something, the sharp-eyed grandma cut him off first. "I've got things to do tomorrow, so I'm turning in. You should get some rest too."
In America, churches carry a lot of influence. With Mary and Grandma Connie responsible for feeding the congregation the next day, it counted as an important—and almost sacred—task.
With that, Grandma Connie gave Mike no chance to argue and headed briskly back to her room.
Watching her leave, Mike could only shake his head helplessly. He briefly considered writing down the recipe himself and delivering it to George under Grandma Connie's name.
That would probably ease the tension between them.
But in the end, Mike scrapped the idea.
Not only would it be easy to get exposed, but if things went south, he'd likely end up offending everyone.
"Sigh…"
Weighing all the downsides, Mike let out a long breath, admitting to himself that he was, at heart, a little "selfish."
He didn't like doing things that were all effort and no reward.
---
As for George, despite Mary's objections, he grabbed two beers from the fridge and plopped down in a lounge chair in the backyard, sipping one as he tried to cool off.
Normally, this kind of quiet relaxation would be his favorite thing.
Tonight, though, he couldn't find any peace at all.
His thoughts kept circling back to the family tension. Truth be told, he didn't want to fight with Connie or Mary—he just wanted to feel acknowledged and valued as part of the family.
"Damn barbecue…"
The frustration boiled over, and George slammed his fist down hard on the small table beside him.
The loud bang echoed through the yard. Out of practice when it came to pain tolerance, George immediately grabbed his hand and sucked in a sharp breath.
The area where his palm met his wrist was already turning red.
"George, what happened?"
Mary called out from the kitchen as she cleaned up.
"It's nothing!"
George righted the overturned table and answered quickly.
After picking up the beer bottle that had rolled onto the ground and shattered, he tossed it into the trash. By the time he finally sat back down, he'd calmed a little.
And in that calmer state, he could feel Mary's concern for him. He also realized that all the tension in the house really did start with that cursed "barbecue."
"Wait… the barbecue."
A lightbulb went off in George's head.
The more Grandma Connie refused to give him the recipe, the more determined he became to get it.
In the end, he made up his mind: he'd sneak into Grandma Connie's place and find the recipe himself.
Just imagining how mad that would make her brought a mischievous grin to his face.
Before it got completely dark, George headed over to Grandma Connie's house. Seeing that the living room lights were off, he gently knocked on the door.
No response.
Exactly what he'd hoped for.
With practiced ease, he lifted the spare key from under the doormat and crept inside.
Then, feeling his way through the dark, he made straight for the kitchen.
---
"Karen, are you free tomorrow?"
In his private room, Mike was on the phone.
To make communication easier, Mike had gone out and bought himself a cellphone. With the money he had, it wasn't a big deal.
"Probably not…"
Karen hesitated on the other end. "Regina seems to have noticed something and is keeping a close eye on things. The Devil's Body squad has events both tomorrow and the day after…"
"Alright. We'll catch up when you're free," Mike said, hanging up after the sound of a blown kiss came through the receiver.
Karen was a good girl—she knew boundaries and wasn't clingy. Mike appreciated that.
Just as he was about to get some rest, he suddenly heard a faint noise outside.
There's a thief.
That was Mike's first thought.
He grabbed a wooden stick from by the door, carefully pushed it open, and followed the sound to the kitchen.
In the dim light, he could make out a chubby figure rummaging around on the kitchen table.
Thanks to how familiar he was with George, Mike recognized him instantly.
"George, what are you doing?"
Mike flipped on the light and asked.
"I—I…"
George covered his face with one hand and stammered, "I'm looking for coffee. Yeah, we ran out at home."
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the coffee grounds on the table and quickly picked them up.
"Oh? Is that so?" Mike asked with a half-smile.
"Y-Yeah, exactly!"
Looking flustered, George said, "Alright, I've got the coffee. I should get going."
"Oh, and don't tell Connie that I was here," George added as he headed out the door.
He knew full well that his clumsy performance probably hadn't fooled Mike at all.
"Got it," Mike replied with a smile. Even if George hadn't asked, Mike wouldn't have told Grandma Connie anyway.
As sneaky as it was, Mike still hoped that George would win the bet.
But just as Mike closed the door and turned around, he saw Grandma Connie leaning against the hallway doorframe, watching them with an amused, knowing smile.
The sight was all too familiar—Mike himself had just been looking at George the same way.
"Grandma Connie, why are you still up?"
Mike stepped slightly in front of her, trying to block her view as he awkwardly made conversation.
"That was George, wasn't it? What was he doing here?" she asked flatly.
"Uh… yeah, it was George," Mike explained. "They ran out of coffee at home, so he came to grab some."
"I doubt it was that simple," Grandma Connie said, her eyes sharp with suspicion.
She then walked into the kitchen and straightened the small box where she usually kept her recipes.
"Was he looking for this?"
From inside her neckline, she pulled out a folded recipe.
Clearly, Grandma Connie had anticipated that George would try to steal it. She hadn't left the barbecue recipe in the kitchen at all.
"Alright, fine. He was looking for the recipe," Mike admitted. "But honestly, I can understand why."
"So, what about the bet?" Grandma Connie asked with a smile.
"You win," Mike said, accepting the loss.
He briefly wondered whether he should come clean about his love life.
Still, talking about something that personal was a little hard to bring himself to do.
"Alright, go get some rest," Grandma Connie said. She was content with the bet itself and didn't push him about his private affairs.
Relieved, Mike added one more thing. "I think you might want to reconsider the barbecue recipe."
"Mm, I know," Grandma Connie replied, her gaze drifting thoughtfully toward the door.
---
As for George, having failed to steal the recipe, he grabbed another beer from the fridge and went back to the backyard.
Just as he was drinking alone, Grandma Connie walked over, two beers in hand.
"Here," she said, handing one to him.
"Even if you bring me a beer, I still won't like you," George said bluntly as he took it.
"What if I add this?"
Smiling, Grandma Connie pulled the recipe from her neckline.
Between the two of them, there was never really a deep-seated conflict to begin with. No matter what, they were family.
After carefully checking and confirming that the recipe was real this time, all of George's resentment melted away in an instant.
He stood up and gave Grandma Connie a hug.