“Your mother doesn’t have money for firewood? Tell her to put on warm socks. But transfer 80,000 to my mother for the repairs at her country house—that’s more important!” her husband declared.
“Not that village again,” Dmitry muttered irritably. He stood with his back to his wife, his palms pressed against the windowsill, scowling into the courtyard where his secondhand BMW was parked beside the building. “It isn’t our most important expense. She’ll manage.” Oksana stopped writing. She was sitting at the kitchen table, carefully copying figures … Read more