I turned on my heel and walked away, a plan forming in my mind.
The next morning, before dawn, I rallied the family. “Time to go,” I announced. Ben blinked sleepily at me. “What are we doing, Mom?”
“We’re going to teach Mr. Dickinson about accountability.”
Bundled up and armed with shovels, we got to work. My husband started the snowblower, while Ben and I tackled the sidewalks. Every shovelful of snow we cleared, we pushed into Dickinson’s driveway. The pile grew higher and higher, until it was nearly as tall as his sleek black car.
“This is a lot of snow,” Ben said, grinning as he wiped his brow.
“That’s the point,” I replied. “Think of it as poetic justice.”
By mid-morning, Dickinson’s driveway was buried under a mountain of snow. He didn’t take long to notice. His furious shouting reached my ears before I saw him, his face red with rage.
“What the hell is this?” he bellowed. “You buried my driveway!”
I smiled sweetly. “Oh, Mr. Dickinson, we were just correcting an imbalance. Since you refused to pay Ben for his work, we simply… reversed it.”
“You can’t do that!” he sputtered, pointing a shaking finger at the snow-covered mess.
“Oh, but I can,” I said calmly. “It’s called quantum meruit—a legal principle. If you refuse to pay for labor, you lose the benefit of that labor. And just so you know, I have a house full of witnesses who’d love to share how you exploited a child.”
His face drained of color. He opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it when he saw the crowd of amused neighbors gathering along the sidewalk. Muttering curses under his breath, he stormed back into his house.
That evening, the doorbell rang. Dickinson stood there, humiliated, holding an envelope.
“Tell your son I’m sorry,” he muttered, refusing to meet my eyes.
I closed the door and handed the envelope to Ben. Inside were eight crisp $10 bills. Ben’s face lit up as he counted the money, his smile worth more to me than anything else in the world.
“Thanks, Mom,” he said softly, hugging me tightly.
I hugged him back. “No, sweetheart. Thank you for showing me what real determination looks like.”
And as Ben carefully set aside the money for the red scarf, the dollhouse, and the telescope, I knew he’d learned the most important lesson of all: Stand up for what’s right, and never let anyone steal your hard-earned pride.