“The cured fish is already gone,” my mother-in-law announced without even bothering to get up from my favorite wicker chair. “We took a mattress out to the veranda for you and Kirill. Regina needs a proper bed after the trip, so don’t go into the bedroom tonight. Besides, some fresh air will do you good.”
I had arrived at the country house carrying bags of groceries, a good mood, and the naive belief that we were still the owners here. Apparently, that last point needed to be clarified urgently.
“Wonderful service,” I said with a polite smile as I set the bags down on the porch.
“And did you fold our towels into swans on the veranda, or did you just leave them in a neat stack?”
My mother-in-law narrowed her eyes suspiciously, but I was already walking into the yard.
I’m forty-seven and work as a scenic artist at a theater. I inherited this country house from my aunt and had invested so much effort, time, and money into it that every nail in the place practically knew me by sight. A week earlier, I had left the keys with my mother-in-law for one simple reason—to water the greenhouse. Who could have guessed that the watering can in her hands would instantly turn into a royal scepter?
My husband and I had finished our business a day earlier than expected and decided to surprise everyone.
The yard was buzzing with activity. Sitting around a fully set table in the gazebo were Kirill’s cousin Regina, her husband, and their adult daughter. At that very moment, Regina’s husband was enthusiastically devouring pickled mushrooms from my cellar. A little farther away, near the barbecue grill, some more distant relatives, Timofey and Lada, were bustling around.
Eleonora Semyonovna herself was fluttering between them in a brand-new chiffon dress.
“Sonya? Kirill?” Regina froze with a piece of my homegrown tomato on her fork. “But Aunt Elya said everything had been arranged with you! She said you wanted us to come without any formalities and make ourselves at home. We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.”
Eleonora Semyonovna tried to steer my husband and me toward the zucchini beds.
“Kiryusha, Sonechka, why are you standing there like strangers?” she hissed. “People are on vacation! I invited the family for the festival. I gave Regina and her family your bedroom. Timofey and Lada got the room with the balcony. You’re the owners—you should understand!”
I paused, studying my mother-in-law with interest.
“Of course we understand, Eleonora Semyonovna,” I said sweetly.
“There’s only one thing I don’t understand: since you’ve been assigning rooms in my house, why were you so modest with the veranda? You could have rented it out to a traveling circus. Or set up a tent camp in the greenhouse.”
Then I stopped smiling.
“This house belongs to me, Eleonora Semyonovna. So right now, you are going to stop handing out bedrooms and explain to your relatives exactly what happened.”
“Sonya is absolutely right, Mom,” Kirill added, stepping beside me. “I fully support her decision.”
The clatter of forks in the gazebo stopped.
Timofey dropped the barbecue tongs.
“What do you mean, the house belongs to Sonya?” Regina blinked in confusion. “Aunt Elya, we transferred sixty thousand rubles to you a month ago for accommodation! You said it was a great family rate.”
My right eyebrow slowly rose.
My gaze automatically fell on my mother-in-law’s new dress.
“Sixty thousand? Eleonora Semyonovna, have you already paid the taxes on the income from renting out my property?”
“And meals were supposed to be included!” Regina’s husband added indignantly, pushing the jar of my mushrooms away from himself.
“What about the boat?” Lada called from the grill. “What time is tomorrow’s exclusive cruise with the captain? We paid extra for that!”
The color rapidly drained from Eleonora Semyonovna’s face.
“That… that was an organizational fee!” she shrieked. “For household expenses! You’re always counting every penny. I was only trying to help!”
“So,” I said, counting on my fingers. “You sold the bedrooms, included my mushrooms in the meal plan, and appointed my husband as their personal captain. All that’s left now is to give everyone their money back. The banquet is over.”
My mother-in-law gasped and pressed both hands to her chest. All that was missing was a curtain and someone holding up an “Applause” sign.
The relatives were staring at her with steadily increasing fury.
“Sonya, Kirill, please forgive us,” Regina said, rising from the table in a threatening manner. “We had absolutely no idea. Aunt Elya, if you don’t return our money right now, I’m going to the police.”
“Your tour operator sold you thin air,” I told the relatives evenly.
“You have one hour to pack your things. And naturally, all financial matters should be settled with Eleonora Semyonovna.”
Once the deceived guests realized the scale of the disaster, they rushed to pack their suitcases.
Eleonora Semyonovna ran around the yard with her phone, calling hotels. As expected, there were no vacancies left in town during the festival.
“There’s only a holiday resort outside town…” my mother-in-law reported in a funeral-like voice. “They have two expensive cottages available.”
“Wonderful!” Regina snapped as she zipped up her bag. “Timofey and we will take the cottages. And you’re coming with us and paying for this entire luxury experience.”
Under the relatives’ heavy stares, my mother-in-law transferred the sixty thousand rubles back and covered the substantial remaining amount from her personal savings account.
She would be sleeping on a folding sofa in the shared living room.
By nightfall, the yard was empty.
Kirill and I were alone, airing out the rooms and changing the bed linen.
The next day, we went to the waterfront. Kirill’s shift on a sightseeing boat was about to begin.
I was just about to go get coffee when a familiar procession appeared near the pier. Apparently, our family tour operator’s performance was still running.
Regina, Timofey, and a visibly exhausted Eleonora Semyonovna confidently headed toward the gangway, clearly expecting to be escorted aboard as honored relatives.
“Good afternoon,” Kirill said formally. “Your tickets, please.”
“What tickets? We’re family!” my mother-in-law protested, glancing at the queue.
“No one can board without a ticket. This boat belongs to the company. I’m the captain here, not the owner of a private yacht. The ticket office is on the pier.”
“The ticket office?!” Regina flared up again, turning toward my mother-in-law. “You swore we’d be sailing as VIP guests!”
“Apparently, the VIP package didn’t include boarding passes. What a shame,” I remarked quietly.
Eleonora Semyonovna shrank under the stares of the crowd.
With her head lowered, she trudged toward the ticket office to buy six tickets.
Over the course of the three-day festival, her business plan had driven her deep into the red.
A week later, Regina called me. She apologized once again for what had happened and asked permission to visit for just one day.
They arrived quietly, behaving with incredible tact, and brought a trunk full of good groceries to replace everything they had eaten.
During the day, the men repaired the leaning fence, and that evening we had a wonderful time sitting together by the barbecue.
My mother-in-law did not come with them.
The day before, Kirill had taken her a bag she had forgotten on the veranda and informed her that from now on, any family gatherings she wished to organize would take place exclusively in her own two-bedroom apartment.
That evening, after seeing our guests off, I sat in a soft armchair on the enclosed veranda with a glass of chilled wine.
In the past, I would have tried to explain to my mother-in-law why secretly renting out someone else’s house behind the owner’s back was wrong.
With age, I discovered that telling grown adults something is “wrong” works about as well as chamomile tea for a broken bone.
Financial responsibility, on the other hand, produces an almost immediate recovery.
As it turns out, generosity with someone else’s property ends very quickly when you have to pay for it out of your own pocket.
