Irina looked at the document, and her hands were trembling. The lines danced before her eyes, but the essence remained unchanged – the country house, their family’s country house, now belonged to Lena. How could that be?
For ten years, Andrey and she had invested money, effort, and soul into it… And now her mother-in-law had simply rewritten everything in favor of her daughter?
“Andrey, can you explain to me what this means?” Irina handed her husband the paper, accidentally discovered in an old folder with bills.
“Mom… she…,” Andrey faltered, averting his gaze. “You see, she believes she has the right…”
“Right?” Irina felt a fury boiling inside her. “What right? We struggled there for ten years! We put on a new roof, built a fence, and attached a veranda! And your mother just…”
At that moment, the front door opened, and on the threshold appeared Tamara Petrovna – as if she had sensed that someone was talking about her.
“What’s all the commotion about?” she asked, taking off her coat. “Irisha, did something happen?”
“Yes, Tamara Petrovna, something did happen,” Irina stepped resolutely toward her mother-in-law. “Please explain why the country house is now registered in Lena’s name.”
Without delay, the mother-in-law straightened her posture:
“And what’s the big deal? This is my property; I can do with it as I wish.”
“Your property?” Irina felt something tighten in her throat. “What about all our investments? All those years…”
“You lived there, you used it,” snapped Tamara Petrovna. “Consider it rent.”
Andrey stood silently, shifting his gaze from his mother to his wife. His indifference wounded Irina the most.
“Mom, maybe you shouldn’t have…” he began, but Tamara Petrovna interrupted:
“Son, these are adult matters. I did what’s right. Lena is my daughter; she needs her share.”
Irina watched the scene and felt something inside her breaking. For years she had tried to be the ideal daughter-in-law, enduring barbs, smiling in response to criticisms. And this was how it ended.
“You know what, Tamara Petrovna?” Irina allowed herself a wry smile for the first time. “You’re right. It’s your right to do as you please with the property. And I, too, have rights. For example, the right to reclaim everything we purchased for this country house.”
Tamara Petrovna paled:
“What do you mean ‘reclaim’?”
“Well, let me show you!” Irina pulled out her phone. “See these folders? They contain all the receipts from the past ten years. Every board, every nail, every bush in the garden – it’s all documented. I used to be a teacher; I love order.”
Tamara Petrovna nervously adjusted her glasses:
“Are you threatening me?”
“God forbid! I’m just informing you. And you know what else? Tomorrow I’m going to the country house and start removing OUR belongings. Let Lena enjoy nothing but bare walls.”
“Andrey!” Tamara Petrovna protested. “Tell her!”
But for the first time, Andrey looked at his mother without his usual adoration:
“Mom, what am I supposed to say? You really acted… inappropriately.”
The next morning, Irina organized a “general cleanup.” Methodically, she took photographs of every item, compared them with the receipts, and made an inventory list. The noise attracted a neighbor:
“Irisha, are you moving?”
“No, Mary Ivanovna, I’m just taking back what’s mine. Can you imagine? Our country house is now Lena’s.”
“Lena’s?” the neighbor gasped. “The very one who appears once every three years?”
“The very same,” Irina nodded, carefully wrapping her beloved chandelier in plastic wrap.
By lunchtime, the news had spread throughout the surrounding plots. And by the evening, Lena herself arrived.
“Irina, can I talk with you?” Lena looked bewildered. “What’s going on here?”
Irina was just compiling a list of garden tools:
“What isn’t clear? I’m taking back my property. Congratulations on your acquisition, by the way.”
“Listen,” Lena sat on the edge of the veranda. “I didn’t ask Mom to do this. She herself…”
“But she didn’t refuse either,” Irina noted while making a mark in her notebook. “Do you know how much that gazebo cost? We built it for three months.”
Lena scanned the plot. Neat flower beds, fruit trees, a new fence – everything testified to years of continuous care.
“And what do you propose?”
“Me?” Irina looked Lena straight in the eyes for the first time. “Nothing. I’m just taking what rightfully belongs to our family. And you can enjoy… the property.”
At that moment, Tamara Petrovna burst onto the plot:
“What kind of circus did you set up?!” she waved her arms. “All the neighbors are already gossiping!”
“Mom,” Lena said firmly for the first time, “stop.”
“What?”
“I said—stop. Why did you do this? I don’t want this country house. I have my own near St. Petersburg.”
Tamara Petrovna faltered:
“But I wanted what was best… That you would have your own space here…”
“Mom,” Lena shook her head, “you just wanted to hurt Irina. And you know what? I’m not going to be a part of that.”
A heavy silence fell. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled – a storm was coming.
“I’ll restore everything as it was tomorrow,” Lena finally declared. “I’ll draw up a refusal.”
“No need,” Irina suddenly said. “Let it all go to court.”
“To which court?” Tamara Petrovna gasped.
“To a regular one. I’ve already consulted a lawyer. And Andrey and I have all the evidence of significant investments in the property. That gives us the right to claim recognition of our share of the ownership.”
Andrey climbed onto the veranda. He listened in silence, standing at the gate.
“Son!” Tamara Petrovna exclaimed, waving her arms. “Will you let your wife speak to her mother like that?”
“Mom,” Andrey looked at her for the first time with obvious reproach, “what did you expect? We’ve invested everything we could here for so many years. Irina is right.”
“But I’m your mother!”
“And she’s my wife. And the mother of my children. And you know what’s most hurtful? We would have looked after you anyway. Always. Without any documents or conditions. Simply because you’re family.”
A tear rolled down Tamara Petrovna’s cheek:
“I… I was just afraid to be left alone. I thought if I had this country house…”
“So what?” Irina asked softly. “Are we going to be forced into keeping up appearances? Out of fear of losing the property?”
The first raindrops tapped on the veranda roof. Tamara Petrovna sank onto a bench, suddenly appearing ten years older.
“Oh God, what have I done…” she whispered. “I always did things my way, always feared…”
Lena sat down beside her:
“Mom, you can’t do that. Look at what you’ve turned our family into. Irina and Andrey cared for you and the country house for so many years…”
“And I ruined everything, didn’t I?” Tamara Petrovna pulled out a handkerchief. “How can I fix this now?”
Irina looked at her dejected mother-in-law, and gradually her anger gave way to exhaustion. Ten years of hurt, unspoken words, and attempts to prove her worth and loyalty to this family – and here was the moment of truth.
“You know what, Tamara Petrovna?” Irina sat down opposite her. “Let’s start with the most important thing – trust. We are one family. There is no need to test each other or impose conditions.”
“Right,” Andrey supported his wife. “Mom, we’re not strangers. Why play these games of rewriting documents?”
The rain intensified. The four of them sat on the veranda, and for the first time in a long while, they spoke frankly.
“I’ll fix everything,” Tamara Petrovna declared firmly. “Tomorrow we’ll go to the notary. We’ll transfer the country house to you and Andrey.”
“And you know what I want in return?” Irina asked, looking at the quiet mother-in-law.
“What?” Tamara Petrovna asked cautiously.
“That you finally start treating me like your daughter. Not as an outsider, not as a temporary presence in your son’s life. But as someone who truly loves this family.”
Thunder rumbled very close by. In the ensuing silence, the sound of raindrops drumming on the new roof – the very one that Andrey and Irina had re-roofed last summer – was audible.
“You know, Irisha…” for the first time, Tamara Petrovna addressed her as such, gently. “And you’re right. I always kept my distance. I always thought: someone will come along and take your son away. But you didn’t take him – you expanded our family.”
Lena smiled:
“Mom, remember how you initially resisted when they decided to attach that veranda? And now it’s the coziest place in the house.”
“I remember,” Tamara Petrovna nodded. “I was always afraid of change. But it turned out for the best.”
Andrey put his arm around his wife:
“Mom, you know we’ll always be here for you. Not because we have to, but because we want to.”
The rain stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Through the open window of the veranda drifted fresh air, scented with wet greenery and blooming lilac.
“Let’s have some tea,” Irina suddenly suggested. “I actually have an apple pie in the trunk. I was going to take it home, but now…”
“Of course, bring it on!” Tamara Petrovna perked up. “I’ll put the kettle on right away.”
While her mother-in-law fussed in the kitchen, Lena quietly said to Irina:
“You know, I’m even glad that everything turned out this way. Maybe at last, Mom will understand that she shouldn’t manipulate those close to her.”
“The important thing is that a lesson is learned for the better,” sighed Irina. “After all, she has a talent – she can turn any situation into a drama.”
“Absolutely!” Lena laughed. “Remember how she made a demonstration of herself when you decided to send the children to camp?”
“Of course! For two weeks she deliberately wouldn’t speak to me. As if how could you send your grandchildren away from their grandmother…”
Over tea, the atmosphere gradually warmed.
Tamara Petrovna took out an old photo album, and together they looked through the pictures: here was the first summer at the country house, here the construction of the gazebo, here the children helping to plant strawberries…
“Irochka,” Tamara Petrovna suddenly said, “why don’t we plant roses together tomorrow? I’ve long wanted to create a flowerbed by the entrance.”
Irina raised her eyebrows in surprise:
“And what about your favorite blackcurrant? You always said that roses are just frivolous and take up space unnecessarily.”
“Such nonsense I used to say,” Tamara Petrovna waved her hand. “I don’t even know why I insisted. Maybe I was just afraid that you were better at flowers than I am…”
“Mom!” Lena chided sharply, shaking her head. “Is it the same old thing again?”
“No, no, I mean it honestly,” the mother-in-law recovered quickly. “I confess – I cherished this country house because it is the last memory of your father. He built it himself; he planted every tree with his own hands…”
Andrey put his arm around his mother:
“But we never intended to erase his memory. On the contrary – we continue what grandpa started.”
“You know what?” Lena suddenly became animated. “Let’s put the gazebo in the center of the garden. A round one, just like in that photograph from your youth. Remember, Tamara Petrovna, you used to show us where you and grandpa had tea?”
Tears welled in Tamara Petrovna’s eyes:
“Really? You’d agree to that?”
“Of course!” Lena chimed in. “And I’ll help. I promise to come by more often.”
Tamara Petrovna suddenly broke into tears:
“Oh, my dear, what a fool I’ve been… I nearly ruined our family with my fears…”
“Well, come now, Mom,” Irina said to her mother-in-law for the first time so casually. “The important thing is that we understood each other in time.”
The evening gradually merged into night. Lena stayed overnight in her old room, while Irina and Andrey settled on the veranda. The warm summer air, heavy with the scent of lilac in bloom, lulled them.
“You know,” Andrey whispered to his wife, “I’m proud of you. You could have stirred up a scandal, sued…”
“And what would that have achieved?” Irina turned to him. “It would only have made things worse. No, I decided to act differently. To show your mom that we are a family. That no documents or rewrites can change that.”
From the slightly open kitchen window came the soft conversation between Tamara Petrovna and her daughter:
“Mom, do you think they’ll really forgive me?”
“Mom, they already have. You just have to forgive yourself. And finally learn to trust people.”
In the morning, Irina woke to the smell of freshly baked goods. In the kitchen, Tamara Petrovna was bustling about:
“Irosha, I’ve started making pies… With potatoes, the way you like them.”
“Potatoes?” Irina was surprised. “But you always said that was a meager filling…”
“Nonsense, I used to say such things,” Tamara Petrovna smiled. “Sit down; the tea is ready. And you know what? Let’s really plant roses. But not ordinary ones – climbing roses. Can you imagine how beautiful it will be?”
“Absolutely,” Irina nodded as she sat at the table. “And the gazebo can be entwined with those roses. It’ll be a true little slice of paradise.”
At the doorstep appeared a sleepy Andrey:
“Mom, are you baking pies? At this hour?”
“What’s so wrong with that?” Tamara Petrovna smiled. “I just thought I’d delight the family.”
Lena, coming down behind him, sniffed:
“With potatoes? Mom, you always said…”
“Enough of reminding me what I said!” Tamara Petrovna joked, playfully wielding a dish towel. “A person can’t change, can they?”
After breakfast, all of them set off for a garden center to choose roses. To everyone’s surprise, Tamara Petrovna displayed unexpected expertise:
“Look, this climbing rose ‘New Dawn’ – it’s very undemanding and blooms all summer.”
“How do you know?” Irina asked in astonishment.
Tamara Petrovna blushed:
“I… I’ve been reading gardening magazines for a long time. I always dreamed of cultivating a rose garden, but I was afraid you wouldn’t approve…”
“Mom!” Andrey and Lena exclaimed in unison.
“What are you all on about?” Tamara Petrovna waved off. “Let’s decide which varieties to take. Look, this pink beauty…”
The day passed unnoticed. By evening, the country house was graced with an array of roses: soft pinks, vivid reds, yellows, and pristine whites. Together they dug holes, prepared the soil, and debated the placement of the bushes.
“No, no, that red one should go in the center!” commanded Tamara Petrovna. “And let’s plant the climbers along the future gazebo.”
“Mom, perhaps we should set up the gazebo first?” suggested Andrey. “Otherwise, the roses might get in the way later…”
“Son, what are you saying? The roses need time to settle before the cold arrives. The gazebo can wait until spring…”
“Tamara Petrovna is right,” Irina supported. “Let’s do everything properly.”
By evening, tired but content, they sat on the veranda. Lena was serving tea:
“You know, I can’t even remember the last time we all sat together like this…”
“I do remember,” Tamara Petrovna said softly. “When father was alive. We used to gather here every weekend. He would always say: ‘The most important thing is that the family is together…’”
“Grandpa would have been so happy,” Andrey smiled. “The garden grows, the family grows stronger…”
“I almost ruined everything with my own hands,” Tamara Petrovna sighed. “Forgive me, my dear ones…”
“Mom, enough with the apologies,” Irina said gently. “Let’s think about which gazebo we’ll set up in the spring. I have an idea…”
“What idea?” Tamara Petrovna asked, intrigued.
“Remember that photo in the album? The one where grandpa is sitting in the gazebo? At that time, I noticed the intricate wood carving. Maybe we should make one just like it?”
“Oh my,” Tamara Petrovna pressed her hands to her chest. “You remember? That photograph?”
“Of course! It was such beautiful work… Andrey, remember? I showed it to you.”
“I remember,” Andrey nodded. “I even made a rough sketch back then. Just in case.”
Tamara Petrovna burst into tears:
“My children… And I thought… You preserve everything, keep every memory…”
“Mom,” Lena embraced her mother by the shoulders. “We are a family. Understand? A real family. With our own history, our own traditions.”
“And with our roses,” Irina added, looking at the freshly planted bushes.
As dusk approached, the garden was bathed in soft hues. Somewhere in the distance a nightingale began to sing. Tamara Petrovna wiped away her tears:
“You know what? I still have the blueprints for that gazebo. Your father kept them…”
“Really?” Andrey became animated. “Where are they?”
“In an old dresser, in the bottom drawer. I’ll bring them over now…”
The yellowed sheets of drawings were carefully spread out on the table. Andrey studied every detail attentively:
“Look at this, what a well-thought-out design. Every measurement is clearly indicated…”
“Your grandpa was a true craftsman,” Tamara Petrovna sighed. “He did everything thoroughly, with heart.”
“So we will, too,” Irina declared decisively. “Just imagine: a round gazebo entwined with roses, intricately carved railings, a patterned roof…”
“And benches arranged in a circle,” Lena added. “So that the whole family can sit together.”
“And a table in the center,” Tamara Petrovna contributed. “Perfect for tea parties.”
Andrey pulled out his phone and photographed the blueprints:
“I’ll prepare all the materials over the winter, and we can start building in the spring.”
“With the whole family?” Irina clarified.
“Of course!” Tamara Petrovna smiled. “But… shall we not wait for spring? At least let’s lay the foundation now, while it’s still warm…”
“Mom!” Lena laughed. “You’re rushing again!”
“And why not?” Tamara Petrovna looked at herself ten years younger. “I now know: the key is not to be hasty in judgment and to trust those close to you. And the foundation – that’s something else. It’s the base!”
