The Beauty Salad, or How We Got Rid of Unwanted Guests
William returned home from work, and as usual, the comforting aroma of dinner filled the hallway—a roast was slowly cooking in the oven, while Emma chopped vegetables for a salad in the kitchen. He stepped closer, inhaled deeply, and smiled.
“Mmm, smells delicious…”
“Trying my best for our guests,” she replied with a faint smile.
“For *my* relatives?” he asked, a hint of irritation in his voice.
“Well, yes. You said they’d be stopping by today…”
“You really didn’t have to cook for them,” he muttered abruptly.
“Why not? They’re your family—it would be rude not to,” Emma said, puzzled.
“Trust me, you’ll understand soon enough,” William said meaningfully before walking away.
A few hours earlier, his mother had called with “news”—his niece Sophie and her husband James had just taken out a mortgage on a flat only two streets away. While theirs was being renovated, they’d asked to shower at William and Emma’s place. Though William had never been fond of Sophie since childhood, he agreed—but made it clear they weren’t expected to feed them.
Yet Emma, ever the gracious host, had set the table anyway.
“I don’t get why you’re so against them,” she shrugged. “They just need a quick shower.”
“Just wait,” he said. “Remember my aunt Margaret?”
Emma did. Back in the countryside, they’d stopped by to return some curtains, and Margaret, putting on a show of hospitality, offered them yesterday’s porridge in a sooty pot—while a table full of pies sat untouched in the next room. Suddenly, it all made sense.
A knock came at the door. There stood Sophie and James.
“Hi!” Sophie chirped. “You must be Emma? My cousin’s wife?”
Within minutes, they’d made themselves at home, eyeing the flat and peeking into rooms. Emma discreetly closed the bedroom door as Sophie reached for it.
“I thought you just needed a shower?” William reminded them.
After freshening up, the guests lingered. They settled at the table and polished off every last bite. The same happened the next day—and the one after that. Sophie critiqued the meals without hesitation.
“Brussels sprouts? You actually *eat* these? Can I have another pork chop? And one for James too.”
“Pasta with no meat? What even *is* this?” she scoffed on the fourth day.
Then Emma overheard James mention their pipes were already fitted. Sophie widened her eyes.
“Well… we don’t have a showerhead yet,” she stammered.
After they left, Emma turned to William.
“I’m exhausted. This isn’t just dinner—it’s a takeaway service.”
William nodded. “We need a plan.”
And Emma had one.
The next evening, when their guests settled at the table again, she brought out a large tray of plain oats, grated apples, and honey.
“This is a French *beauty salad*!” she announced cheerfully. “Five spoonfuls of oats, soaked in boiling water, with apple, lemon juice, and a drizzle of honey. So healthy! We’ve been having it every night—great for skin and hair.”
Sophie tried a bite, her enthusiasm nonexistent. Within fifteen minutes, they were saying goodbye, the salad barely touched.
The next morning, Sophie called.
“Are you really eating that salad again tonight?”
“Absolutely! It’s part of our cleanse!” William replied brightly. “Actually, if you pop round, bring some roast beef—I’m starving on this oat diet…”
“No, no, we won’t be coming over. Our water’s fixed now,” Sophie said curtly before hanging up.
Days later, William’s mother rang.
“William, Margaret says Emma isn’t feeding you…”
“Mum, I’m full, healthy, and happy,” he chuckled. “Oh, and we’re moving soon. Putting the flat up for sale. New life, new beginnings. And no amount of oats is going to ruin it this time.”
Sometimes, a little creativity is all it takes to set boundaries—and keep unwanted guests at bay.