After her Fourth of July barbecue party, my stepsister sent me a message demanding $500. I gave her a real lesson.

Who bills $500 for a cookout with the family? That’s my stepsister Karen. I chose to give her a lesson in family hospitality instead of charging her—a move that caught her off guard.

Guys, you won’t believe some people’s level of nerve. My stepsister Karen hosts this enormous Fourth of July celebration every year. We’re talking mounds of burgers, an army-sized bowl of potato salad, and sparklers that light up the night like a miniature version of Las Vegas. However, something happened this year that made me furious.

It was a fantastic celebration. We had a great time laughing and overindulging in food, while the children enjoyed letting off sparklers while being closely monitored by my spouse James.

I was sweaty from racing after my child and, by the end of the night, filled with food, secretly hoping for a nap that wouldn’t be cut short by cries of “Mommy, can I have juice?”

Karen mentioned sending leftovers home with everyone as she was packing up.

She chirped, placing containers dangerously in a huge tote bag and saying, “Think of it as an extension of the party!”

Success! Not only would I not have to bother about making dinner the next night, but those brownies that were left over were beckoning.

The following morning, a notification buzzed on my phone. It was Karen’s message.

You might assume that this is a “Hey, how are you?” now. or just a “Thanks for coming to the party!”

Nope. Rather, it’s this:

Hello, I just wanted to let you know that the cost of the Fourth of July party is $500 for your portion. Since I gave you a lot of leftovers, food costs money. Transfer the funds as soon as possible.”

My mouth dropped to the ground.

$500? For a gathering with family? And you’re calling those half-eaten hot dogs and sad, withering lettuce leaves “a lot of leftovers”? Karen, hurry up.

“Seriously??” Furious, I texted back. This cannot be true, can it? Perhaps she was making a joke, or perhaps there was a major miscommunication.

Two minutes passed, then one. My phone would not go silent. At last, Karen was typing as evidenced by the telltale dots appearing.

Then, she responded on my phone, saying, “Not kidding. Everly, food isn’t inexpensive. You are aware of that. I could have fed your entire family with those leftovers, too!”

The emoji only made it worse, ugh. Karen wasn’t playing tricks; she was being serious. Trying not to lose my temper, I took a deep breath.

I quickly gave her number a call. After ringing once and again, she answered.

“Hey, Karen,” I said, trying to sound lighter than I actually felt. “Just wanted to chat about your message.”

“Oh, hi,” Karen casually answered. Concerning the money? You’ll send it over shortly, so don’t worry. You know, those fireworks weren’t exactly a deal.”

Fireworks, really? Did she believe we were at some kind of private, champagne-fueled bash? Karen, it was a backyard cookout!

I started to say, “Look,” but she interrupted.

“Look, Everly, that party cost a lot of money. It’s only right that everyone participates.

This was becoming absurd.

I tried to talk sense into her by saying, “Karen, this was a family party.” “We’re not visitors at some upscale eatery. We are kin.”

On the other end of the line, there was a beat of silence. Karen scoffed at that.

“Well, family or not, food costs money,” she replied. I’m also sick of having to pay for everything all the time. Thus, $500 would be really appreciated. Regards.”

Furious, I hung up. Who pays for a family dinner?

I think my blood pressure was through the roof. I went into the living room to let out my frustration and found James hulking over a pile of laundry.

“Hey, everything okay?” he questioned, scowling up at the ceiling. He was aware of my expression.

I groaned and fell back on the couch beside him. “You won’t believe what Karen just pulled,” I said. I quickly went into detail about Karen’s message, the phone call, and the entire absurd situation. Upon completing the task, I was nearly breathless.

As I spoke, James listened intently, his brow furrowing. He whistled slowly and for a long time when I eventually stopped. “Whoa. Okay, even for Karen, that’s a new low.”

“Right?!” I let out a cry. “Fifty-nine dollars? for fireworks and leftovers?”

“Karen in her element. James laughed, “You have to always be the center of attention, even if it means being completely unreasonable.”

“Exactly!” I concurred. “And the most awful aspect? Not even money is a factor. That’s the idea behind the whole affair. Family members don’t bill one another for a cookout!”

“Agreed,” replied James. “Look, maybe we should just send her the money and be done with it.”

I sneered. “Are you serious? She’ll think she can pull off this ruse annually if we give in now. Not in a manner. She needs to learn a lesson from me.”

“Okay, then what?” Is James asking? Are you going to yell at her on a follow-up call? That won’t work out well, I promise.”

He was not wrong. Nothing could be resolved by yelling. However, the notion of simply giving the money? Never. There had to be a method to correct Karen’s behavior without inciting a feud among the family.

I murmured, scratching my chin reflectively. “Hmm,” Something began to take shape in my mind. It was a bit cheeky, but hey, Karen was the one who began the whole situation. It was time for her to take the field.

The initial action? Investigate.

I poured over old photo albums and recipe boxes for an afternoon, taking careful notes on every family gathering I’d ever had. Christmas meals, birthday parties, and Thanksgiving feasts that pushed the table to its limits.

Every occasion featured an invoice, a shopping list, or a handwritten message outlining the expenses. A feeling of accomplishment blossomed in my chest as I added it all up.

This was no token alteration. The astounding $3,750 was spent on everything—decorations, entertainment, and the mountains of food. A vast cry from the paltry $500 Karen had.

Equipped with this knowledge, I made the decision to attack. I quickly created an invoice that looked professional, including an itemized cost breakdown and a GRAND TOTAL at the bottom. I sent it as an attachment to an email with the subject line “Fairness in Family Events.”

The one who gets it? Naturally, Karen!

The invoice was accompanied by a brief yet kind message:

As we’re being fair, here’s your portion of previous family gatherings. It comes to $3,750 in total. Shall we resolve this now?”

It felt like victory when I hit send. The waiting game started now.

The reply arrived sooner than I anticipated. There was a buzz on my phone, and the caller ID displayed “Karen.”

“Everly, what’s the meaning of this?” Karen growled. “This invoice is ridiculous!”

“Is it?” I retaliated. For your reference, I’ve included a summary of all the family events I’ve hosted throughout the years, along with receipts. I think it seems very fair. What say you?”

On the other end of the line, silence stretched. Karen finally gave a huff. “This isn’t like that. That celebration cost me a lot of money.”

“And I spent a lot on Christmas dinners and birthday parties,” I said. “Considerate all of the cuisine, décor, and entertainment. It accumulates.

“But… but…” Karen’s customary bluster faded as she stammered.

“Look, Karen,” I murmured. “We are related. Families shouldn’t discuss finances at get-togethers. It’s about hanging around and enjoying each other’s company for a while. However, it’s okay if you insist on treating it like a business transaction. We are able to engage in that game.”

The line became silent once more. Karen then gave a dramatic sigh. “This is not credible. There’s no way I could pay you $3,750.”

After she hung up, I continued.

A few weeks later, my spouse and I threw a family gathering.

We prepared a feast to rival Karen’s Fourth of July spread, going all out. A platter of veggies that looked like a rainbow explosion, a succulent roasted chicken, mountains of appetizers, and of course, mountains of desserts were all present.

At the end of the night, I gave everyone itemized invoices and said, “Okay, everyone, I thought I’d prepare a little something for each of you since we’re apparently keeping track of expenses now.”

Faces around the table furrowed in confused frowns. But Karen appeared to droop in her chair a little, her eyes darting tensely from me to the papers. I didn’t pay her any attention.

“Here you go, Aunt Linda,” I said, grinning as I handed my aunt a piece of paper. “This details your contribution to tonight’s feast, based on the cost of the food you ate.”

I distributed the itemized receipts, each indicating the “cost” of the food a family member had eaten, one by one.

The room went from being funny to being confused. Karen said nothing, blushing from embarrassment and rage.

At last, Sarah, my ever-watchful niece, spoke up. “So, Aunt Everly, does this mean I owe you money for the juice boxes too?” She enquired.

“Yes, honey,” I winked and reached for my wine glass.

It’s merely an instruction in equity. We should all pay $500 for the Fourth of July barbecue if my sister Karen demands it’s “fair” to charge for family get-togethers, don’t you think?

The visitors turned to Karen in amazement and dismay after swiftly picking up on the suggestion. She virtually ran out of the room after mumbling an excuse because she could take no more of the jabs.

Just a gentle reminder that the purpose of family get-togethers shouldn’t be to see who can spend the most money. It’s important to have quality time with each other.” I made the announcement and respectfully asked that everyone disregard those itemized bills.

The rest of the evening went down without a hitch and was full of lively talk, laughter, and delicious food. Nobody really noticed that Karen was gone.

I got a text from her a few days later. It was succinct and direct: “All right. Just put the money aside for now.

“Take it as forgotten,” I answered. “But remember, Karen, if you ever pull something like this again, we’ll be ready.”

Since then, Karen has asked for things much more thoughtfully and even helps out more when the family gets together.

Maybe I went a bit too far with the counterattack, looking back. But to be honest, Karen’s boldness called for a forceful reply. A little bit of small-time retaliation is sometimes all that’s needed to put things right.

So what are everyone’s thoughts? Was my retaliation insignificant, or did Karen need to learn a lesson? Tell me in the comments below!