When my 12-year-old son Ben took up our wealthy neighbor’s offer to shovel snow for $10 a day, he couldn’t wait to buy gifts for the family. But when that man refused to pay, calling it a “lesson about contracts,” Ben was heartbroken. That’s when I decided to teach him a lesson he’d never forget.
I’d always known my son Ben had a bigger heart than the world seemed to deserve. He was only 12 but carried a determination that could humble men twice his age.
A boy carrying many books | Source: Midjourney
Even so, I never imagined I’d be standing in the icy driveway next to my husband, exacting revenge against the man who thought cheating a child was just another business move.
It all began on a snowy morning early in December. Ben was buzzing with excitement after shoveling the driveway while I made breakfast. He burst into the kitchen, cheeks flushed from the cold.
“Mom, Mr. Dickinson said he’ll pay me $10 every time I shovel his driveway!” His grin stretched ear to ear.
A smiling boy | Source: Midjourney
Mr. Dickinson, our neighbor, was as insufferable as he was wealthy. He always bragged about his business ventures and showed off his luxury toys.
It wasn’t hard to guess he thought he was doing us all a favor by letting Ben “earn” his money. Still, Ben’s excitement was contagious, and I wasn’t about to crush his enthusiasm.
“That’s wonderful, sweetheart,” I said, ruffling his hair. “What’s the plan for all this cash?”
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’m buying you a scarf,” he said with the seriousness only a 12-year-old could muster. “And a dollhouse for Annie.”
His eyes sparkled as he described every detail of the red scarf with tiny snowflakes, and the dollhouse with working lights that Annie had been obsessed with since she saw it in the toy store’s window display.
My heart swelled. “You’ve got it all planned out, huh?”
A happy woman | Source: Midjourney
He nodded, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “And I’m saving what’s left for a telescope.”
Over the next few weeks, Ben became a blur of determination. Every morning before school, he bundled up in his oversized coat and boots, a knit hat pulled low over his ears. From the kitchen window, I watched him disappear into the frosty air, shovel in hand.
The muffled scrape of metal on the pavement echoed through the stillness.
A boy shoveling snow | Source: Midjourney
Sometimes he’d stop to catch his breath, leaning on the shovel, his breath forming little clouds in the freezing air. When he came inside, his cheeks were red, his fingers stiff, but his smile always shone through.
“How was it today?” I’d ask, handing him a cup of hot chocolate.
“Good! I’m getting faster,” he’d reply, his grin lighting up the room. He’d shake snow off his coat like a dog shedding water, sending damp clumps onto the rug.
A rug in an entrance hall | Source: Pexels
Each evening, Ben would sit at the kitchen table, tallying his earnings. The notepad he used was dog-eared and smudged with ink, but he treated it like a sacred ledger.
“Only 20 more dollars, Mom,” he said one night. “Then I can get the dollhouse and the telescope!”
His excitement made the hard work seem worth it, at least to him.
By December 23rd, Ben was a well-oiled machine of winter labor.
A person shoveling snow | Source: Pexels
That morning, he left the house humming a Christmas carol. I went about my day, expecting him to return as usual, tired but triumphant.
But when the door slammed open an hour later, I knew something was wrong.
“Ben?” I called out, rushing from the kitchen.
He stood by the door, his boots half-on, his gloves still clenched in his trembling hands. His shoulders heaved, and tears clung to the corners of his wide, panicked eyes.
A sad boy | Source: Midjourney
I kneeled beside him, gripping his arms. “Sweetheart, what happened?”
He wouldn’t talk at first, but eventually, he told me everything.
“Mr. Dickinson… he said he’s not paying me a single cent.”
The words hung in the air, heavy as a stone.
“What do you mean, he’s not paying you?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
Ben sniffled, his face crumpling.
A boy sobbing | Source: Midjourney
“He said it’s a lesson. That I should never accept a job without a contract.” His voice cracked, and the tears spilled over. “Mom, I worked so hard. I just don’t understand. Why would he do this?”
Anger surged through me, sharp and blinding. What kind of person cheats a child as a “business lesson”? I pulled Ben into a hug, pressing my hand against his damp hat.
“Oh, baby,” I murmured. “It’s not your fault. You did everything right. This is on him, not you.” I pulled back, brushing his hair from his face. “You don’t worry about this, okay? I’ll take care of it.”
A determined woman | Source: Midjourney
I stood, grabbed my coat, and stormed across the lawn. The sight of Dickinson’s house, glowing with holiday cheer, only stoked my fury. Laughter and music spilled into the cold night as I rang the doorbell.
He appeared moments later, wine glass in hand, his tailored suit making him look like a villain straight out of a bad movie.
“Mrs. Carter,” he said, his voice oozing false charm. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
A man raising one eyebrow | Source: Midjourney
“I think you know why I’m here,” I said evenly. “Ben earned that money. You owe him $80. Pay him.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “No contract, no payment. That’s how the real world works.”
I clenched my fists, willing myself to stay calm. I opened my mouth to argue about fairness and the cruelty of his supposed lesson, but the look in his eyes told me none of that would persuade him to do the right thing.
A man staring ahead | Source: Midjourney
No… there was only one way to deal with the Mr. Dickinsons of the world.
“You’re absolutely right, Mr. Dickinson. The real world is about holding people accountable.” My smile was so sweet it could’ve rotted teeth. “Enjoy your evening.”
As I walked away, an idea began to form. By the time I stepped back into our house, I knew exactly what had to be done.
A furious woman | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, while Dickinson and his guests still slept, I woke the household with a determined clap of my hands.
“Time to go, team,” I said.
Ben groaned as he crawled out of bed, but caught the determined gleam in my eye. “What are we doing, Mom?”
“We’re righting a wrong.”
A determined woman | Source: Midjourney
Outside, the air was bitter and still. My husband started the snowblower, the rumble cutting through the early quiet. Ben grabbed his shovel, gripping it like a sword. Even Annie, too small for the heavy work, bounced along in her boots, ready to “help.”
We began with our driveway, then moved to the sidewalk, clearing paths for the neighbors. The pile of snow grew steadily as we pushed it all toward Dickinson’s pristine driveway.
The cold bit at my fingers, but the satisfaction of each shovelful fueled me.
A person shoveling snow | Source: Pexels
Ben paused to catch his breath, leaning on his shovel. “This is a lot of snow, Mom,” he said, a smile creeping onto his face.
“That’s the point, honey,” I said, piling another scoop onto the growing mountain. “Think of it as a reverse Christmas miracle.”
Annie giggled as she pushed tiny mounds of snow with her toy shovel. “Mr. Grumpy’s not going to like this,” she chirped.
By mid-morning, Dickinson’s driveway was buried under a fortress of snow.
A huge pile of snow in a driveway | Source: Midjourney
It was higher than the hood of Dickinson’s sleek black car. I dusted off my gloves, stepping back to admire our handiwork.
“That,” I said, “is a job well done.”
It wasn’t long before he noticed. Soon, Dickinson stormed over, his face as red as the Christmas lights on his roof.
“What the hell have you done to my driveway?” he bellowed.
A man shouting at someone | Source: Midjourney
I stepped outside, brushing off my gloves like I had all the time in the world. “Oh, Mr. Dickinson, this is a little something called quantum meruit.”
“Quantum what?” His eyes narrowed, his confusion almost comical.
“It’s a legal concept,” I explained with a smile. “It means if you refuse to pay for someone’s labor, you lose the right to enjoy the benefit of it. Since you didn’t pay Ben, we simply undid his work. Fair’s fair, wouldn’t you agree?”
A woman glancing to one side | Source: Midjourney
Dickinson sputtered, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “You can’t do that!”
I gestured toward the neighbors who had gathered to watch, their smiles thinly veiled. “Actually, I can. And if you’d like to call a lawyer, keep in mind that I have plenty of witnesses who saw you exploit a minor for free labor. That wouldn’t look great for someone like you, now would it?”
He glared at me, then at the crowd, realizing he’d lost. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stomped back to his house.
A house decorated for Christmas | Source: Pexels
By evening, the doorbell rang again, and there stood Dickinson, holding an envelope. He didn’t look me in the eye as he handed it over.
“Tell your son I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
I closed the door and handed the envelope to Ben. Inside were eight crisp $10 bills. Ben’s smile was worth more than all the money in the world.
Cash in an envelope | Source: Pexels
“Thanks, Mom,” he said, hugging me tight.
“No,” I whispered, ruffling his hair. “Thank you for showing me what real determination looks like.”
Here’s another story: When I arrived at the hospital to bring home my wife and newborn twins, I was met with heartbreak: Suzie was gone, leaving only a cryptic note. As I juggled caring for the babies and unraveling the truth, I discovered the dark secrets that tore my family apart.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Old Widow Finds Flowers at Her Doorstep Every Week, Has No Idea Who They’re From – Story of the Day
Months after her husband Albert died, Vivienne started receiving her favorite flowers every week. None of her children or grandchildren had sent them, so they set up a surveillance camera to find out who did. But the truth changed their entire family.
Albert and Vivienne Harrison lived in Indianapolis, Indiana for most of their 55-year marriage. Albert died from natural causes at 86 years old, and she was heartbroken. But luckily, she had a big family to keep her company.
The couple had three children, six grandchildren, and their first great-grandchild was born a few months before Albert died. Vivienne knew they had lived a long, peaceful life filled with love, so her heart was at ease despite how much she missed Albert.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
But a few months after his death, she returned home from Sunday mass to see a bouquet of her favorite flowers on her doorstep. “Oh, aren’t these the most exquisite roses!” Vivienne said to herself after picking them up.
She called her daughter, Miriam, who told her she didn’t send them. Vivienne rang both her sons too, but neither Andrew nor Blake sent them either. They all promised to ask their children to see if any of them had.
But after a few phone calls, no one in the family could figure out who did it. “I’m sorry, Mom. None of my kids did. But Gina said that she once saw a movie where an old man instructed a flower shop to send flowers to his wife after his death,” Miriam said.
“Do you think your father did that?” Vivienne wondered.
“I don’t know, but I remember that Dad always got you flowers from the same shop. It couldn’t hurt to ask them,” Miriam suggested. So Vivienne called their go-to flower shop, but they didn’t have such an order from Albert.
She called Miriam again, but her daughter Gina had no other ideas. “Well, Mom. Maybe some kind stranger sent a random bouquet. Just enjoy them.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Vivienne put the matter off her mind for the rest of the week and continued with her life. However, another bouquet was waiting at her doorstep when she returned from mass the following Sunday.
“It’s weird, Miriam. What if it’s a creep or one of those stalkers I’ve read about?” she hesitated.
“Stop watching crime documentaries, Mom. It’s none of that. Just enjoy the flowers,” Miriam said, exasperated. She didn’t think her mother should be worried about flowers. But the bouquets kept coming every Sunday, and Vivienne needed to know what was happening.
“Ok, Grandma. I bought you this camera for your front door. It records who comes to your doorstep and such,” explained Hanna, Miriam’s other daughter, when she came over to visit her grandmother. She installed the camera herself, and they waited to see what happened.
That Sunday, they saw a strange man with a bouquet. He left them on her porch and then fled. “That’s weird, Grandma. It’s a young man,” Hanna said when she browsed through the footage.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“See? It’s weird. I told your mother this whole thing was odd, but she doesn’t think it’s a big deal,” Vivienne replied.
“I think he might just be a delivery man. I don’t think he’s the one sending the flowers, although he’s not wearing a uniform,” Hanna observed. “Let’s wait to see if he comes around again.”
He did. The man came over every Sunday at the same time to deliver the flowers. Finally, Vivienne had enough and decided not to attend church to catch him. This time, Hanna and Andrew’s son, Jake, stayed with her just in case.
They were watching the live footage of the camera when the man showed up. Jake rushed to the door, opened it, and the man bolted. But Jake ran to catch him while Hanna stayed behind with Vivienne.
Jake caught him before the man could escape and brought him back to his grandmother’s house. “Who are you, young man? Why have you been delivering flowers here every week?” Vivienne asked sternly.
“Mrs. Harrison, this is hard to explain. My name is Michael, and your husband was my grandfather,” the man began.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“What? Are you crazy, man? We know all our cousins. There’s no way,” Jake warned angrily.
“I know it’s hard to take. From what I know, Grandpa Albert had an affair right before getting married. My grandmother didn’t know she was pregnant until months later. Then she raised my mother alone. But I reached out to Grandpa a few years ago,” Michael stated.
“We formed a nice bond. He told me about your family and wanted to introduce me to you guys. But the timing was never right. The last time I spoke to him, he said that if he passed, he hoped I would buy you flowers, as his apology for not telling you the truth sooner.”
“I can’t believe this,” Hanna whispered. Jake shook his head. But Vivienne knew that the boy was telling the truth. He looked just like Albert did when they got married.
“You are the spitting image of my late husband. Do you think I could meet your grandmother?” Vivienne asked. She had a few questions for the woman.
“I’m sorry. My Grandma and Mom died in a car accident when I was 20. That’s why I reached out to Grandpa. I didn’t have any family left,” Michael revealed.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Oh, my dear. I’m sorry. In that case, I’m glad that you got to meet Albert. He was a family man through and through. This might be a shock to the rest of the family, but they will want to meet you,” Vivienne assured.
The entire family was shocked to learn about Grandpa Albert’s affair, but they welcomed Michael at Vivienne’s insistence. They had a BBQ party where everyone got to meet him. Michael also introduced them to his wife and their toddler.
“Mom, how can you be so calm about this?” Miriam asked her mother at the gathering.
“Oh, honey. Life is so short. If I had discovered this incident years ago, maybe I would’ve been mad. But now, I’m just glad to have more people to love. Also, he followed your father’s wishes to make me happy. That tells you the kind of man he is,” Vivienne shared.
In the end, Michael formed a beautiful bond with most of his cousins, who were all around his age. It took a little longer for his aunt and uncles to accept him, but they did in the end.
But most surprisingly, Michael had a soft spot for Vivienne. He continued to bring her flowers every Sunday, and the older woman invited him for tea every time.
What can we learn from this story?
- It’s easier to see the big picture when you’re older. Her kids and grandkids couldn’t understand at first, but Vivienne knew they would all be happier after accepting Michael.
- Don’t keep secrets. Albert should’ve told his wife about Michael as soon as he found out. But he died before he could say anything.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a woman who heard a stranger say, “Everything is going according to plan,” at her husband’s funeral.
This account is inspired by our reader’s story and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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