“You live off everything ready-made and then scream that I’m stingy: how I kicked my brother’s family out with their stolen beans and potatoes.”
After her divorce, Larisa grew bored. She had lived with Alexei for almost twenty years; they had no children, they lived only for each other.
Three years ago, after turning fifty-five, Alexei suddenly decided he wanted to become a father. A younger and perfectly healthy “replacement” was found quickly. Naturally, his legal wife was the last to know:
“Well, here’s the thing… Larisa, I’m leaving you. I think my heart has used up its limit of love for you. Forgive me, but I feel nothing now except habit. And besides, a child needs a father!”
“What child?” Larisa froze. “Lyosha, what are you talking about?”
“My son, who will be born in four months. Larisa, let’s separate amicably! We’ll split the three-room apartment, divide everything we’ve accumulated fairly. I’ll give you two million from the money in the account. Or better yet, let’s do it differently! I’ll give you all my savings and the one-bedroom apartment I inherited after my mother’s death.
You make no claims to my business, leave the other apartment and my new car alone!”
After a brief thought, Larisa agreed. There was no point fighting for a husband who had already replaced her. Alexei kept his word: he gave her the money and signed over the apartment.
Larisa did a full renovation in the new place, bought furniture and appliances, and wondered how to spend the rest.
“If I were you, Lara, I’d go on a cruise!” her friend said dreamily. “Or buy yourself some little indulgence for your old age—maybe a flower shop or a small café. Something to keep you from going crazy with loneliness.”
“I have a job. When would I run a business? And besides, Sveta, I prefer stability. Running a business needs iron nerves, and I don’t have them. As for a cruise—it’s dangerous. A month on a ship… no, that’s a dubious idea. I think I’ll buy a dacha instead!”
Sveta stared at her.
“A dacha? What do you need that for? I have nothing but bad memories with that word! I remember the first ten years of marriage, Kolya and I spent every weekend at my mother-in-law’s dacha. It was hell! Bronislava Stanislavovna wrung every drop out of me, woke me up at six and sent me to the vegetable patch.
Only after she died did we finally sell that cursed dacha and start living like people! Do you really want to dig in the dirt?”
“I love flowers,” Larisa smiled, “and I don’t mind growing fruits and vegetables either. Homegrown tastes much better than store-bought.”
“It’s easier to buy them, if you ask me,” Sveta drawled. “So much work for half a box of tomatoes, a bucket of cucumbers, and a sack and a half of potatoes! But hey, it’s your money—you decide how to spend it.”
Larisa bought a small cozy cottage in the suburbs on a six-hundred-square-meter plot. It took almost a year to fix it up—the house needed repairs and the land was overgrown.
The locals gladly helped the city newcomer for a fee. Once the house was in order, Larisa spent every weekend at the dacha.
Larisa’s younger brother, Valentin, was not enthusiastic:
“Don’t ask me for anything!” he announced at once. “I won’t dig or water a thing at your dacha. I really don’t get it, Lara. Why bother? Couldn’t you invest the money in something useful? Buy yourself a new car instead!
You drive a bucket of bolts, and you’re the head doctor at the hospital! You’re the boss—your car should reflect your status!”
“Oh, stop it, Valya,” Larisa waved him off. “What status? I’m not the CEO of an oil refinery, just an ordinary doctor. And the dacha… the dacha is for the soul. You can’t imagine how peaceful it is there! All week you run around the city like crazy, stand in store lines, lose sleep at night because of young people roaring by on motorcycles.
But at the dacha—it’s paradise. I rest there! Even the garden work makes me happy; I love tending seedlings and flowerbeds.”
“Well, to each their own,” Valentin shrugged. “Maybe I’ll drop by sometime if I get a chance. Give me the address, just in case.”
At the start of summer, Larisa took her vacation, locked up her city apartment, and moved to the dacha for a month.
She had made friends with the neighbors and spent evenings happily. Valentin showed up unexpectedly—Larisa was in the garden when someone knocked on the gate.
“Valya? Why didn’t you call? Well, come in, since you’re here.”
“Well, sis, I take back what I said! You’ve got yourself a real little estate here. The house is so bright, like a gingerbread cottage straight out of a fairy tale! How much did that renovation cost you? And the yard—beautiful! Flowers, little trees… Wow, even a gazebo!”
Valentin liked his sister’s country place so much that he decided he could drop by whenever he wanted with his family.
Larisa didn’t say anything at first when she ran into these uninvited guests a couple of times—she didn’t want to quarrel with relatives.
Valentin’s wife, Oksana, behaved as though she owned the house—taking food from the fridge, rummaging through cupboards, even walking off with Larisa’s crystal “best” salad bowl without asking.
The family of seven used up water, enjoyed the internet, and never once offered to compensate Larisa.
On the contrary, Valentin thought his sister should be grateful—thanks to them, she wasn’t bored and lonely.
One day, while Valentin was there with his mother-in-law, wife, and three kids, Larisa was urgently called into work.
She had to abandon watering the garden and head to the city. Starting her car, she asked:
“Valya, please, in about fifteen minutes, move the hose to the next bed. It’s unbearably hot and the tomatoes must be watered. There are only six beds—just check every twenty minutes or so. When one’s done, move the hose to the next.”
Valentin, lounging on a deck chair under the apple tree, silently nodded. Relieved, Larisa drove off.
She came back only in the evening, changed clothes, took a shower, and headed to the garden. What she saw made her want to cry—her neat tomato plants were lying flattened on the ground. Valentin hadn’t moved the hose; the beds were washed out.
“Valya, I asked you! Was it really so hard to do one little thing? The plants might die now! How could you?!”
“Forgot,” Valentin slapped his forehead. “I dozed off in the shade, Larka. Oksanka only woke me up half an hour before you got back. Come on, it’s just tomatoes! You can buy some at the market—big deal. Now, give me a ride to the store, I want to get some meat and make kebabs!”
Larisa went to her room; she didn’t want to see her brother. Later, as the noisy family gathered in the kitchen, she came out and announced loudly:
“Leave.”
“What for?” Oksana looked surprised. “Lariska, why are you so mad?”
“I don’t want to see anyone here anymore! You live off everything ready-made, can’t even make your own beds, and when I ask you to watch the garden, you can’t be bothered!
I don’t want a fight, just pack up and go. This is my dacha! If you want to relax, buy your own!”
Valentin left in a huff. Larisa had to listen to plenty of unpleasant things from her own brother:
“Look at you, the big country lady now! So our relationship is worth just a few kilos of tomatoes?
Fine, Larka, you made your choice. Consider yourself without a brother from now on!”
The rest of the summer passed quietly and peacefully. Larisa didn’t see her relatives again. She managed to save her precious tomatoes; they recovered.
Harvest time came at the start of autumn. Larisa even took Friday off to make sure she’d have three full days to gather everything.
From a distance, she spotted Valentin’s car. Turns out, her brother decided he had a right to part of the harvest lovingly grown by someone else’s hands.
Larisa arrived just in time: the family had already dug up almost all the potatoes and bagged them, gathered cucumbers, pumpkins, zucchini. Oksana had even stripped the bean plants. The garden was bare.
Entering the yard, Larisa immediately saw “the fruits of her labor”—several crates, buckets, and sacks neatly stacked by the house.
Apparently, they hadn’t expected to see the owner. Both Oksana and Valentin were startled.
“Well, my dear guests! What’s going on here?” Larisa drawled.
“What are you doing here?” Oksana snapped. “It’s Friday—you’re supposed to be at work!”
“Well, looks like I came right on time! Helping me clear the garden, are you? Thanks, but I could have managed without you!”
“Larka, stop the drama,” Valentin grimaced. “We came yesterday morning to stock up for the winter. Worked all day—digging potatoes, picking vegetables. The kids even scraped their knees climbing for apples and plums!”
“And did I give you permission?” Larisa asked. “Who said you could help yourselves? I grew all this with my own hands! What do you have to do with it?”
“I told you!” Oksana hissed, jabbing her husband in the side. “I told you she’s stingy! She wouldn’t give you a handful of snow in winter!
All that work, and for nothing. Do you really think she’ll share? Not a chance!”
Oksana was right: Larisa made them empty the sacks and crates, dumping the potatoes and vegetables back. Valentin got nothing.
After throwing out the brazen relatives, Larisa sorted the produce, kept some for herself, and gave the rest to a neighbor for canning.
It was decided: she would get a dog to keep uninvited guests away.
