I couldn’t wait to spend the holidays with my son John and his wife Liz — it was my first Christmas with them as a family. But when Liz criticized my cooking and John chose silence instead of defending me, I wondered if the holidays would be ruined.

I was always the one who cooked for every family dinner, especially after I got married. Christmas was my time to shine. But after Oliver, my husband, passed away, I lost that part of myself. Now, I only cook enough to get by, except for the holidays when John comes home for his annual roast dinner. This year, however, things got a bit heated in the kitchen.

It was the first year with Liz joining us. When they were dating, she always spent the holidays with her own family, which I understood. Being with your family during the holidays is important. I was curious to see how Liz would mix with the rest of our family.

I got up early and started preparing the Christmas meal, knowing we would have an early dinner with many side dishes and desserts to follow. I made our usual Christmas dinner — chicken, roasted potatoes, and gravy as the main attraction, along with other dishes John loved. But Liz? Oh, she definitely wasn’t a fan.

I was putting the final touches on the chicken when Liz strolled into the kitchen, cell phone in hand, eyeing my cooking. She looked around with an expression that made it seem like something smelled terrible. I tried to ignore her, already sweating from the effort.

“Hey, Kate,” she said suddenly, “maybe we should order food. Not everyone wants what you’ve cooked. I don’t know if everyone enjoys your cooking, either. Christmas is supposed to be enjoyed by everyone, and that includes the food.”

Her words hit me hard. I looked at John, who was leaning against the archway, nibbling on a carrot. He avoided my gaze, looking out the window instead. I held back my tears and bit my lip.

Guests were arriving, sitting all over the house. I didn’t want to ruin the dinner, even though Liz had hurt me. When dinner was served, the table was filled with food I had been cooking all day. John and the others were digging in, praising the meal.

“The food’s great, right? Everyone’s enjoying it?” John asked the table.

His uncle laughed and helped himself to more roasted potatoes. “Why wouldn’t we enjoy my sister’s food?” my brother said.

“Because Liz said the dinner might be ruined by Mom’s dishes. She wanted us to order in.”

“Nonsense!” my brother exclaimed, drowning his potatoes in gravy.

John looked at me and smiled. That’s when I realized my sweet boy’s silence wasn’t meant to hurt me. He was waiting for the right moment to teach Liz a lesson and embarrass her in front of our family.

Liz turned red from embarrassment as everyone stared at her. I did feel bad for her. It was her first Christmas with us, and it wasn’t looking good.

Later, as I was in the kitchen packing the dishwasher and clearing dishes, Liz came in.

“Kate, I’m sorry,” she said. “I was so wrong to do what I did. I am sorry, please understand.”

“Understand what?” I asked her, still hurt but feeling a bit bad.

“I only said that because John loves your food. He always talks about how you make all these special things for him. I can’t make a basic mac and cheese without him saying yours is better. I looked at the food, smelled all the delicious smells from this kitchen, and panicked.”

“Liz, you should know that a boy and his mother’s food is a relationship in itself,” I laughed, trying to ease the tension. “I can teach you how to cook just like me. My mother taught me everything I know.”

“Really?” she asked, looking hopeful. “Even after I’ve been so horrible?”

“Yes,” I said with a soft smile.

I led her to the Christmas tree, ready to give her a present. The whole situation still hurt, but I was grateful she didn’t mean to be nasty. Liz felt threatened by John’s love for my cooking instead of trying to build her own connection with him through food. But I can teach her.

If the same thing had happened to you, what would you have done? Would you have been silent until the truth came out, like me? Or would you have retaliated immediately?