She felt that she had annoyed everyone, including her son and both grandchildren. She knew that all the employees in her huge office called her nothing else but “old woman.” Involuntarily, she approached the mirror:
«Am I really an old woman? I may be seventy, but I look wonderful,» she mused as she twirled, once again scrutinizing herself from every angle. «My figure is in perfect shape, and my face is beautiful. My doctor has already earned himself a good car on my account. The men have stopped paying attention to me. All day long, they compliment me on my beauty, yet there isn’t a spark of admiration in their eyes, let alone love. My Fyodor died twenty-five years ago. He was fifteen years older than me. I was twenty then, and he was thirty-five. I worked for him back then and dreamed of a career, though I never even dreamed of becoming his wife. Fifty years have passed since then, and it’s been twenty-five since he died, and I never married again.
He was happy before he died, even though he knew his days on this earth were numbered. He had a grandson. He transferred everything to me and ordered that I safeguard his business until my son and grandson became worthy successors. So all this time I have been preserving and growing his business. My son is a little angry that I still command everything. Sure, he and the grandson could manage without me. But in life, aside from this business, I have nothing left. I’ll go home—not to a cottage, but to my one-room apartment that remains as a memory of my youth.»
«Anna Ivanovna,» came the secretary’s voice over the intercom. «Ryabov is here to see you.»
«Let him come in.»
A soft knock sounded at the door, and one of her managers entered:
«Anna Ivanovna, you look absolutely stunning!» he said in a steady tone, immediately displaying admiration on his face. «Here are the papers from the client…»
«Go to Valery Fyodorovich!» she snapped, waving her hand irritably. «Let him decide.»
«Alright,» he replied, disappearing behind the door.
«That’s it, tomorrow is Saturday. I’ll tell my son that for the weekend I cease to exist.»
She took her phone and called her son:
«Valera, I’m disappearing for the weekend.»
«In what sense?»
«Can’t I live for myself for at least two days?»
«Mom, what have you gotten yourself into?» her son replied, his voice tinged with gentle concern.
«Valera, I’ll just rest. I’m turning off my phone.»
«Mom…»
«Son, everything will be alright!»
«You’re free until Monday!» she ordered the driver.
She grabbed a bag of groceries and headed toward the entrance.
She ascended to the second floor and unlocked her one-room apartment—the same she had lived in during her youth. She appeared here only once a year. Over fifty years, it had been renovated several times, yet even after the renovations, everything reminded her of her youth. Even the clothes in the wardrobe were in the fashion of her younger days. Once a month, a woman came to check that everything was in order in the apartment.
After storing the groceries in the refrigerator, she prepared tea and sandwiches herself.
Then she bathed in a modest tub and went to sleep. Who said that rich people don’t get tired? They sure do.
In the morning, she rose, smiled, and once again remembered her youth. She sipped her coffee and began to get ready.
She opened the wardrobe. There hung dresses she had once adored—though inexpensive and out of fashion, they were beloved. She dressed. The golden jewelry still rested on the small table. Smiling at her reflection in the mirror, she mused:
«How unalike I am from that formidable boss. I’ll just go for a walk. I so wish someone would notice me not as a boss but simply as a woman. And even if I’m seventy! In my heart, I’m still eighteen…» she chuckled involuntarily. «Well, not eighteen—more like forty-five.»
She set off, not toward the center, but to the part of town where she used to stroll in her youth. Back then, if she appeared here, it was only on her way from one of her enterprises to another, glimpsed from the window of a car while simultaneously talking on the phone.
Reaching the park, she recalled how in her youth she often walked here with classmates, and later with older guys. They would eat ice cream…
She looked around and noticed an ice cream stand. Approaching it, she began to examine:
«Oh dear, oh dear! There doesn’t seem to be any good ice cream here. Which one should I choose?»
«Give me two ice creams!» a male voice said from nearby.
«Which one for you?»
«The tastiest one?»
«This one,» the saleswoman pointed out. «But it’s expensive.»
«Let’s have it!»
The saleswoman gave him change and handed over two servings.
«Thank you!» the man said, handing one to Anna. «Enjoy!»
For a good minute, Anna Ivanovna examined the man as if he were another candidate for a high position in her empire:
«He appears to be about sixty, maybe a little younger—about ten years my junior. Not particularly handsome. Judging by his appearance, he hasn’t worked in high-ranking positions; he seems like an ordinary laborer. Unmarried. Married men don’t usually offer ice cream on the street to other women,» she noted, regaining her composure. «But I was hoping for a little adventure…»
«Thank you! My favorite,» she smiled at him. «But it’s expensive.»
«I earn well enough to treat a beautiful woman,» he suddenly said. «What’s your name?»
«Anna.»
«I’m Boris,» he replied. «Aren’t you in a hurry?»
«No. And why do you ask such a question?»
«Work, work all day long…»
«Same here,» Anna nodded.
«So, can we just take a walk on Saturday, have some ice cream?»
«We can.»
«Then shall we switch to the informal ‘you’?» he asked in a casual manner.
They strolled together, eating ice cream—which Anna didn’t really like, and besides, it was far too sweet for her age. She ate it in small sips. The hot weather didn’t help, and soon the ice cream melted.
«Oh, it’s melted! I’m going to get all sticky!» she cried, throwing it into the trash.
The man, after taking a big bite, discarded the rest into the same bin, and to ease the awkwardness, asked:
«Anya, where do you work?»
«Heavens!» Anna thought silently, unprepared for the question. «He seems to think I’m younger than I am. What should I say? I need to give something reasonably plausible. I’ll say something plausible. In our office, over a thousand people work.»
«In the office of our holding.»
«At the old woman’s?»
«Which old woman?» Anna didn’t immediately understand whom he meant.
«The holding is managed by an old woman, Karpov’s wife.»
«Oh, yes,» she almost wanted to exclaim. «What old woman?»
«When he died, she took everything into her own hands. It seems she’s doing everything right. Her son helps her.»
«Boris, she doesn’t seem that old,» she said, steering the conversation away from that topic. «And you, where do you work?»
«At the metalworking shop, as a milling operator. Our plant also belongs to her,» he added for some reason. «I’m already old. I’ll be sixty next year. I thought I’d retire at sixty, but they extended our youth—six more years of work.»
«And what about your wife?»
«I was married twice. Now, the children from my first marriage are grown, and I live alone. I have my own apartment—even if it’s one-room—but it’s mine. I have a car, a ‘Zhiguli’ seven, but it’s still running.»
«I also have a one-room apartment,» she remarked, trying to change the subject decisively.
«Let’s go get some shashlik,» he nodded toward a nearby barbecue stand. «It tastes good here.»
«Boris, I don’t eat fatty meat.»
«Then let’s just take a walk,» he extended his half-bent arm. «We can stop by a café on the way.»
«Let’s go!» she said, taking his arm. «But only somewhere far from all those cafés.»
Anna walked, unafraid to hold hands with a completely unfamiliar man and head off to an unknown destination. After all, what is there to fear when you’re seventy? She felt content, with just one thought dampening her mood slightly:
«This is probably my last love adventure, and it will end when this interesting man finds out how old I am. Or when he discovers my social standing, then it’ll turn out that I bought him.»
He talked about his work, and Anna listened with pleasure, nodding along, yet she feared that he might eventually stop, forcing her to divulge details about her work and her life. She did not want to lie.
Anna also noticed that her companion kept glancing increasingly at the signs advertising food. Finally, unable to resist, he suggested:
«Anya, let’s go in and have something to eat!»—he said in a manner both casual and thrilling, as if a husband were beside her.
«Boris, I live just nearby! Let’s go to my place! I’ll order something, and we can have lunch.»
«Alright,» he replied, and then added proudly, «Anya, order whatever you like! I have money.»
«Okay!» she said as she pulled out her phone. «Just don’t watch what I order.»
And she ordered food and drinks from the best restaurant, not caring about the price—she never looked at prices.
«They’ll deliver in no more than an hour!» she added, taking his hand. «We need to hurry a bit; they deliver even faster.»
They entered the apartment.
«Come to the kitchen! The bathroom is over there!» Anna said rapidly, and then dashed into the living room. She shoved her expensive suit—which clashed entirely with her modest look today—into the wardrobe. She gathered a handful of golden jewelry, stuffed it into her purse, and then put the purse back into the wardrobe.
The intercom rang. The order had arrived.
They began unpacking and setting the table, and Boris happily realized that tonight he wouldn’t be going home. He, too, was desperate to stay until morning with this enigmatic woman in an inexpensive dress—who had placed an order from a restaurant worth an amount comparable to his monthly salary.
«Anya, let me transfer you the money for this,» he said, nodding toward the table.
«Tomorrow, you owe me a pastry for breakfast,» she boldly declared.
«Agreed.»
What were they expecting from this weekend? Romance? And they received it in full measure. Yet, deep within both of them, a feeling arose that was greater than mere romance.
The weekend ended, and it was time to part.
«Anya,» her friend declared decisively, «marry me. Let’s live together. I earn well, I have a car. We’ll make it work!»
«Boris, I can’t give you an answer right away,» she replied, tears glistening in her eyes.
«I understand. Let’s think it all through carefully. I’ll come on Saturday.»
«Alright!»
He left, and Anna Ivanovna collapsed onto the bed and wept:
«I’ve had enough! I’ve fallen in love! What have I done? What will I say to him? I am that very old woman—I’m seventy. By the time he retires, I’ll be nearly eighty. Of course, I could pay him for his love, but I don’t want to.»
A week passed.
Anna Ivanovna firmly decided that she would never see Boris again. But she instructed the woman who kept an eye on her apartment to be there in the morning.
And so she waited for a call from her. She hoped her friend wouldn’t come; that this would be a trivial, insignificant adventure.
The phone began to ring with a melody. She answered:
«Yes?»
«Anna Ivanovna, he came with flowers. I told him, as you instructed, that you asked for his forgiveness and that he should not come again. He nodded and left, looking quite sad.»
«Thank you!» she said, hanging up, and tears sprang from her eyes.
The hairdresser distributed the combs. Boris looked on, shaking his head in disbelief:
«Again, my salary is twice as high as it used to be. It’s been like that for the past three months. In front of my friends, I feel ashamed. All the good work is mine. The supervisors seem to have forgotten about my existence. Before, I used to achieve 200 percent of the target and they would protest; now I hit 400 percent, and they hardly notice. The shop manager… I’ll ask him now.
‘Sergey Petrovich, thank you for such a salary! But something isn’t clear.’
‘Boris, I don’t understand either. I tried asking the management—they say everything is fine,’ the shop manager replied with a mischievous smile. ‘It seems the old woman cares about you.’
«Which old woman?»
«Which one? Anna Ivanovna Karpova,» the manager said, patting him on the shoulder in a friendly manner. «So everything is fine!»
Boris watched him go with surprise:
«Anna Ivanovna… Anya…»
The secretary opened the office door and said in surprise:
«Anna Ivanovna, someone delivered flowers for you,» handing her a bouquet of white roses.
«Who delivered them?»
«Security said it was some man, and he left immediately.»
She shrugged in wonder, guessing who it might be. And then she saw a note. Her heart began to race. She opened it:
«Anya, we need to meet and talk. You still haven’t answered my proposal. Boris.»
