Lena stood by the kitchen window, watching a new jeep slowly approach along the garden path — shiny, clearly fresh from the showroom, with Moscow license plates. She involuntarily compared it to her old “nine” car, which had long needed a major overhaul.
“They’re here,” Sergey said, coming out of the bathhouse. “Should we go greet them?”
Lena silently nodded and fixed her hair. Friday, seven in the evening. She had just returned from work, managed to water the tomatoes, chop fresh salad, and heat up yesterday’s pies — the very ones she had baked almost until midnight.
And early that morning, while Sergey was sound asleep, Lena quietly went out to the garden — to tie up the tomato plants that had started to droop under the weight of the fruit.
Familiar figures emerged from the SUV: Sveta — Sergey’s sister, Volodya, her husband, and their son Alyosha — tall, skinny, a twenty-five-year-old student who always gave the impression of being utterly fed up with everything.
“Lenochka!” Sveta shouted from the doorstep, waving a small bag from the local supermarket. “We’ve arrived! To help you here! To weed the beds, to hill the potatoes!”
Lena barely suppressed a smile. Judging by the size of the bag, one could only guess maybe a couple of bottles of water or a pack of cookies.
“Hi, Seryoga!” Volodya slapped his brother-in-law on the back. “How’s it going at your little farm? Is the harvest good?”
“Everything’s fine,” Sergey replied, a little embarrassed. He always felt awkward when Volodya called their six-hundred-square-meter plot a “farm.” Volodya himself lived in a new apartment building, owned a three-room flat, and now even afforded a jeep.
“Hello everyone,” yawned Alyosha. “Mom, are we staying long? I have an important meeting with the guys tomorrow.”
“Alyosha, don’t start!” Sveta elbowed her son. “We agreed: we’ll help uncle Sergey and aunt Lena, relax in the country!”
Lena looked at this family scene and felt a tightening inside. “Help”… like last time when Sveta poked at the beds for half an hour and then spent the whole day lying in the hammock with a magazine. Or how Volodya “helped” — mowed for about fifteen minutes, then declared he had sciatica.
“Come in, the table is set,” Lena smiled and straightened her shoulders.
At dinner, the conversation followed the usual script. Sveta praised the tomatoes (“So sweet! You can’t buy these in stores — expensive and tasteless”), Volodya complimented the potatoes (“Young! Just melts in your mouth!”), and Alyosha methodically demolished everything as if completing a task.
“Len, what are these pies with?” Sveta took a third one. “So tasty!”
“With cabbage and apples,” Lena poured tea. “Baked yesterday.”
“Oh, I haven’t had anything like this in ages! No time at home for anything. Either work or Alyoshka…”
“Mom, what does that have to do with me?” he objected. “You just can’t bake.”
“Alyosha!” Sveta pretended to be offended.
“Oh, come on,” Volodya waved his hand, “don’t be mad. Not everyone is born a housewife. And Lenka has golden hands! She cooks, tends the garden, keeps the house in order. She’s our hope!”
Lena nearly choked. “Our hope” — as if she were a free café with home delivery.
“Yes,” Sveta brightened up, “that’s why we came to help! Tomorrow morning we’ll get to work. Though I can’t stay in the sun long — sensitive skin. But I’ll do something in the shade.”
“And I’ll save my back,” added Volodya. “But I’ll help with advice. I have more experience — I grew up in a village, I know everything.”
Lena mentally rolled her eyes. Volodya grew up in an ordinary town, not in the countryside, and the last time he held a shovel was about ten years ago — when he helped his mother-in-law transplant flowers. And then he complained about his back for a week.
“Well, time to sleep,” Sergey got up from the table. “We have to get up early tomorrow.”
“Early?” Alyosha was surprised. “What time?”
“At six-thirty,” Lena answered. “Need to water while it’s cool.”
Alyosha widened his eyes:
“At seven?! Seriously? Can I sleep a little more? My head hurts from the trip.”
“Of course, Alyoshenka,” Sveta immediately agreed. “Rest. We’ll manage.”
Lena said nothing. She knew she’d be watering alone at six-thirty, as usual. And by seven, when the guests woke up, she’d already need to start boiling the kettle.
That’s exactly how it happened. At 6:30, Lena quietly left the house with a watering can. The morning was fresh, the perfect time for watering. She carefully went around each bed, watering each tomato bush and cucumber plant. It took about an hour and a half, but in the evening she wouldn’t have to worry about the harvest.
By 9:00, when the guests finally woke up, Lena was already frying eggs and slicing fresh cucumbers.
“Oh, Lenochka,” Sveta yawned entering the kitchen, “we overslept! We should have helped!”
“It’s nothing,” Lena waved it off. “I managed by myself.”
“Of course, you managed!” Volodya sat at the table. “Our hostess is a real treasure! So where’s breakfast?”
New praises started over breakfast. Sveta marveled at the cucumbers (“Straight from the bed! Crunchy!”), Volodya praised the eggs (“Fresh eggs taste completely different!”), and Alyosha, chewing, suddenly asked:
“Aunt Lena, can I take some pickles with me? You can’t buy these at the dorm.”
“What pickles?” Lena didn’t understand.
“Well, cucumbers, tomatoes. You have jars in the cellar.”
Lena felt a tension rise in her temples.
“That’s… that’s for the winter stock.”
“Well, yeah,” Alyosha nodded, “just a couple of jars. Not for myself — I want to show my girlfriend how tasty grandma’s cucumbers are.”
“Which grandma?” Lena was confused.
“Well, you,” he shrugged. “You’re like a grandma to me. Dear.”
Sveta was touched and began to coo:
“Oh, how he loves you!” Sveta looked affectionately at her son. “Of course, take it, Alyoshenka. Lena’s not stingy, right, Len?”
Lena silently nodded. What else could she do?
After breakfast, everyone went out to the garden. Sveta took a hoe and began “weeding” — that is, carefully poking between the carrot shoots while chirping nonstop:
“Oh, what thick carrots! And the cabbage is already so big! And such juicy zucchini! Can I try one?”
“Yes, of course,” Lena answered quietly.
Sveta immediately cut herself a piece.
“Oh, how heavy! Volodya, come take a look!”
Volodya, who had been “helping” Sergey fix the fence for the last half hour (that is, standing nearby gossiping about work rumors), came over to his wife.
“Cool zucchini! Can I take the other one too?” he pointed to the neighboring fruit.
“Why two?” Lena didn’t understand.
“One for Sveta’s mom,” Volodya explained. “She’s always interested in how our garden’s doing. We’ll show her — like, the harvest!”
“At the dacha,” Lena repeated silently. “As if it’s their dacha. As if they live here.”
The hoe in her hand trembled slightly.
“Lena, can I look at the raspberries?” Sveta asked.
“Yes, they’re already ripe. In the raspberry patch.”
Lena knew how that “look” would end. But what to say? It was awkward to refuse.
In the raspberry patch, Sveta marveled wildly:
“Oh, how big! And so sweet!” The berries flew straight into her mouth. “Lena, can I pick some for Alyosha to take with him?”
“Take as much as you want,” Lena said reservedly.
This “a little” quickly turned into two liter jars. Sveta gathered with such enthusiasm as if picking golden berries:
“You can’t buy this in stores! Ecologically clean! And so many vitamins!”
Meanwhile, Alyosha “worked” in the garden — that is, lay in the shade of an apple tree with his phone. Occasionally, he looked up and asked:
“Mom, when are we going home?”
By lunchtime, the “work” was done. Sveta was tired from picking raspberries, Volodya from giving advice on fixing the fence, and Alyosha was hungry after two hours of lying down.
“Well, what do we have for lunch?” Volodya asked, taking a seat at the table.
Lena served okroshka, which she had prepared in the morning while the guests were sleeping. Potatoes with dill, fresh salad, apple pies — everything was ready beforehand, as usual.
“Mmm,” Volodya closed his eyes tasting the okroshka. “Homemade kvass! At home, we only have store-bought.”
“Yes,” Sveta agreed. “We work a lot. Only rest in August. By the way, Len, will you be here in August?”
“Yes…” Lena answered cautiously. “Why?”
“We’re thinking of coming. For a week. We’ll stay with you, relax from the city.”
Lena’s spoon even froze in her hand.
“For a week?”
“Yes! The air is so fresh, so quiet! You don’t mind, do you? We’re family, after all!”
Lena glanced at Sergey. He was indifferently chewing potatoes, pretending the conversation didn’t concern him.
“We… will think about it,” she said quietly.
“What is there to think about!” Volodya waved his hand. “We’ll definitely come! Help you harvest. Dig potatoes, pick apples. Right, Alyosh?”
Alyosha, without looking up from his plate, mumbled:
“Yes, if I have time.”
After lunch, everyone dispersed to rest: Sveta and Volodya settled inside the house, Alyosha crashed under the apple tree with his phone. Lena washed dishes and thought she now had to go weed the beds — the same ones she hadn’t reached this morning due to cooking for everyone.
Sergey stood nearby, then hesitantly said:
“Maybe we should ask them to help? Even for an hour?”
Lena wiped her hands and looked at her husband. His eyes showed guilt and helplessness.
“Ask,” she said dryly. “I’m curious to hear what they’ll say.”
Sergey went to the house. A few minutes later, he returned alone.
“Sveta says her blood pressure rose because of the heat. Volodya says his back hurts. And Alyosha… Alyosha is still sleeping.”
By evening, when it cooled down, the guests woke and decided to “help” — that is, pick berries to take with them. Sveta grabbed a few jars and headed for the currants. Volodya went to the cellar to “check the supplies.” And Alyosha, upon waking, demanded dinner.
“Lena!” Sveta shouted from the garden. “Can I take some black currants?”
“And red ones too!” Volodya added from the cellar. “You can’t buy them anyway!”
Lena stood by the stove, frying potatoes; the house smelled of dill and onions. Once, that smell was calming, reminding her of home. Now, every sound, every shout from the garden caused tension in her temples.
At dinner, the conversation returned to plans for tomorrow.
“Probably, after breakfast, we’ll leave,” said Sveta. “Alyosha is already worried he’ll be late for something.”
“Such a pity,” Volodya stretched out. “We just started helping, and now we’re leaving.”
Lena almost choked on her potatoes. “Started helping”…
“Don’t worry,” Sveta comforted, “we’ll come for a long visit in August. Then we’ll definitely help. Right, Len?”
Lena silently nodded. As always. As usual.
In the morning before leaving, the usual packing process began. Sveta rummaged through the fridge, Alyosha carried jars from the cellar, Volodya stuffed bags with vegetables from the beds.
And then Lena couldn’t hold back. She gathered the leftover food into a large bag — uneaten pies, salad, even a container of okroshka — and with a strained smile said:
“Here, I packed you some leftovers. Just as you like. After all, you don’t come to help us, right?”
In the ensuing silence, the buzzing of a fly over a jar of jam was audible.
Everyone froze. Sveta stood with the bag in her hands, not understanding what was happening. Volodya froze by the car holding a jar of pickles. Alyosha looked up from his phone. Sergey went pale.
“Lena, calm down,” he tried to intervene.
“NO!” she snapped back. “I won’t stay silent anymore! Fifteen years I’ve endured! FIFTEEN YEARS!”
She turned to Sveta, who was still holding the bag and stupidly smiling, unaware a storm was about to break.
“Why are you even coming to me?” Lena asked slowly and clearly. “Remind me, please.”
“We… we’re helping,” Sveta mumbled uncertainly.
“HELPING?!” Lena sharply raised her voice. “WHAT have you helped me with in these two days?!”
“Lena, don’t shout, or the neighbors will hear,” Volodya tried to stop her.
“Let them hear!” she didn’t give up. “Let everyone know what ‘wonderful’ relatives I have!”
She began counting on her fingers:
“I get up at six EVERY day! I water your favorite garden! After a hard day in the yard, I come home and cook dinner! Bake pies until midnight so you have something to eat! Work in the garden, repair the fence, tend the orchard! And what do you do?”
“We try to help…” Volodya started.
“TRY?!” Lena stepped up close to him. “You mowed grass for half an hour and immediately started complaining about your back! Your wife weeded carrots for fifteen minutes — then collapsed in the hammock! And your son didn’t even get up from his phone once!”
“Alyosha is just tired from the trip,” Sveta tried to defend her son.
“TIRED?!” Lena laughed, but the laugh was nervous and sharp. “And I’m not tired? Not tired of working for four? Not tired of feeding, watering, entertaining you?”
“But we didn’t ask you to do anything…” Alyosha quietly said.
“DIDN’T ASK?!” Lena turned to him. “Then what were you doing when you said, ‘Aunt Lena is not stingy’? When you took ‘just a couple of jars’? When you packed the car full of my vegetables that I grew all summer?”
“We’re family,” Sveta whispered.
“Family?!” Lena’s voice trembled with outrage. “FAMILY supports each other! Not uses someone as a free worker!”
“Well, we’re not robbing you…” Volodya tried to argue.
“And what is it called then?!” Lena pointed at their car, loaded with jars, bags, boxes. “You always arrive empty-handed and leave with a full car. You empty my fridge. Take the preserves I made for my family.”
“Lena, maybe that’s enough…” Sergey put a hand on her shoulder.
She sharply shook off his hand:
“NO, it’s not enough! I’m saying it all! Do you hear? All of it!” She turned to the three guests. “Don’t come here anymore. Neither tomorrow, nor in August, nor ever.”
“Lena!” Sergey exclaimed.
“What ‘Lena’?” she looked at her husband. “Do you want them to keep using me? For me to keep working for you for free?”
“We didn’t use you…” Sveta was offended. “It’s just…”
“Just what?” Lena sharply interrupted. “Just thought I was a fool? Just thought I wouldn’t notice?”
She scanned them all with her gaze:
“Do you even understand how much one kilogram of tomatoes costs in the store? Cucumbers? My time? My labor? No, you don’t. Because you’re used to taking everything for free.”
“We can pay,” Volodya suddenly said.
Lena froze. Then quietly, bitterly said:
“Pay? For what? For feeding you? For letting you use my land?”
She went to the car and began unloading jars and bags:
“This stays here.”
“Lena, what are you doing?” Sveta tried to stop her.
“Taking back what’s mine,” Lena carefully put the jars down. “My tomatoes, my cucumbers, my preserves.”
“But we already packed everything…”
“You’ll unpack it.”
The guests stood, not knowing what to do. Volodya was the first to come to his senses — he went to the car and started unloading things. Alyosha reluctantly followed. Sveta still couldn’t recover.
“Lena, but we’re family…”
“Family,” she repeated and smiled bitterly. “Do you know what family is, Sveta? It’s when you care for each other. Not when some work and others only consume.”
Lena took the last jar — a three-liter one with salted tomatoes — and carried it back as well.
“Aunt Len, you’re exaggerating,” Alyosha said.
Lena slowly turned:
“What did you do in these two days, Alyosha?”
“What do you mean? I rested…”
“Rested. At my dacha. Ate my food. Slept in my house. Used my internet. And what did you give in return?”
“I… I’m your nephew…”
“Nephew. Twenty-five years old. An adult. And you behave like a child: ‘Can I have some pickles? Some pies? Some cucumbers?’ Were those not requests?”
“I didn’t ask…” he muttered.
“DIDN’T ASK?!” Lena boiled again. “Then who did, if not you?!”
She looked at Volodya:
“And you? You’re an adult man. Where’s your conscience?”
Volodya sighed deeply:
“Lena, we didn’t think it would hurt you this much…”
“DIDN’T THINK?!” Lena grabbed her head. “Fifteen years you didn’t think?! Fifteen years you came, ate, took — and never thought about it?!”
“We thought you’d be happy…”
“HAPPY?!” Her voice broke. “Happy to be a slave to your relatives?”
“Maybe let’s calm down and talk?” Sergey suggested.
“Talk about what?” Lena looked at him tiredly. “That I was stupid for fifteen years? That I let myself be used? Or that you never stood up for me?”
Sergey went pale.
A heavy silence fell. Only bees buzzed over the flowers, and a woodpecker tapped somewhere in the distance.
Volodya was the first to break it:
“Lena, don’t be mad… We’re not enemies. We can agree, talk…”
“Talk about what?” Lena looked at them with tired pain in her eyes. “About the cost of lodging? The price of food? How much your leftovers cost?”
“We can talk about that too,” Volodya said seriously.
Lena looked at him in surprise:
“Did you really say that?”
“So what?” he shrugged. “If we bother you — why not pay? For food, for the night, for us to deal with.”
“Volodya!” Sveta exclaimed. “What are you talking about? We’re family!”
“Can’t family pay each other?” he asked. “Lena is right: we come, eat, take everything and still think we’re doing a favor.”
Sveta’s eyes widened:
“Are you against me now?”
“I’m for honesty,” Volodya replied firmly. “Lena works, and we use her. That’s unfair.”
“But we help!” Sveta tried to justify herself.
“How do you help?” Volodya looked at his wife. “You weeded carrots for half an hour, I mowed grass for fifteen minutes. Alyosha just lay with his phone for two days. Is that help?”
Lena watched the scene, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. Could only a scandal wake them up?
“Volodya,” she said quietly, “are you really ready to pay?”
“Why not?” he shrugged. “We pay for hotels, here at least the air is fresh and food is homemade.”
“Then these won’t be family visits,” Lena noted. “It will be a service.”
“So what?” Volodya pondered. “Maybe even better. It will be fairer.”
Sveta still couldn’t recover when Alyosha joined the conversation:
“Sorry, Aunt Len. Really. We behaved selfishly.”
“Alyosha, don’t say that!” his mother scolded him.
“So what?” shrugged the boy. “It’s true. We came, took everything, didn’t thank. Like pigs.”
“Enough!” Sveta was close to hysteria. “Are you all against me?! I just wanted to visit family!”
“It’s not your fault you came,” Lena said quietly. “But it is that you thought I was stupid — yes, that’s your fault.”
Sveta looked at her and suddenly started crying:
“I didn’t think so… I thought you’d be happy to see us…”
“All right, calm down,” Lena said gently. “We’re all to blame. But what now?”
“Well…” Volodya scratched his head. “As you say.”
Lena thought. The anger was gone, only fatigue remained. Now she could speak clearly.
“Do you want to be honest?” she finally asked.
“We do,” Volodya nodded.
“Then here are the rules,” Lena straightened up. “Come to the dacha if you want. But on equal terms.”
“What terms?” Sveta asked, wiping her tears.
“You come — bring food. You work — the same as we do. Want to take something — ask and offer money or work in return.”
“So… compensate?” Sveta didn’t immediately understand.
“Yes. Either an hour of work in the garden or money as in the store.”
“That’s… logical,” Volodya admitted.
“One more condition,” Lena added. “No one forces anyone. Want to come on these terms — come. Don’t want to — don’t. I won’t be offended.”
“And if we agree?” Sveta asked cautiously.
“Then we’ll try,” Lena smiled slightly. “Maybe it will really be like a family.”
They hugged her. Lena felt a heavy stone fall from her soul.
In the end, the guests took very little with them — a jar of cucumbers and a few pies Lena herself packed.
“Next time we’ll bring meat for barbecue,” Volodya promised. “And we’ll work seriously.”
“And I won’t come just like that,” Alyosha added, “but to help.”
“Come,” Lena nodded. “I’ll be glad.”
And she really was glad. Because now these weren’t just relatives who took advantage of her generosity. These were people who had started to respect her work and personal space.
When the car disappeared around the corner, Sergey hugged Lena:
“Well done,” he whispered. “It was about time to put them in their place.”
“Long overdue,” she agreed. “But better late than never.”
For the first time in many years, Lena felt light. She no longer felt irritation when thinking about them. Only calm anticipation of the next visit — but with different eyes, new rules, and trust.