The Café Is Yours, and You Buy the Food—So My Nephew’s Wedding Will Cost Us Almost Nothing
“Veronika Sergeyevna, did you order all this for tomorrow? I can’t understand what we’re supposed to do with so much meat.”
Alina, the café administrator, placed a sheet of paper covered in Arseny’s familiar handwriting on the edge of the table.
Veronika was in the middle of accepting a delivery. Crates of vegetables lined the service corridor, Yegor, the chef, was checking packets of butter, and the driver was waiting for someone to sign the invoice. Fridays were always hectic: the café would be packed by evening, and two large parties and several regular reservations were already confirmed for Saturday.
Veronika picked up the sheet.
Twenty kilograms of pork.
Red fish.
Three kinds of cheese.
Fruit.
Fresh herbs.
Cream.
 
Several boxes of desserts.
She read the list a second time, wondering whether Alina had accidentally mixed up orders from two different suppliers.
At the bottom was a note:
“For Saturday—the wedding.”
Veronika looked up.
“What wedding?”
“That’s what I was wondering. Arseny sent me a photo of this list last night and told me to give it to you this morning. I assumed you knew about it.”
“Last night?”
Alina’s expression grew cautious.
“Yes.”
Veronika glanced at the clock. It was half past two.
That morning, Arseny had left for work as usual. He had drunk his coffee, complained that the road near his office had been dug up again, and asked whether she would be home late. He had not said a single word about any wedding.
“Don’t order anything yet,” Veronika said. “Nothing on this list.”
“All right.”
“And don’t touch our Saturday reservations.”
“Understood.”
Veronika took the paper and went into the small office behind the kitchen.
The café carried on with its familiar, steady hum. Knives struck chopping boards in the kitchen, someone switched on the extractor fan, and the voices of two women having a late lunch drifted in from the dining room.
Veronika closed the door and called her husband.
Arseny answered after the third ring.
“Hi. I’m just about to go into a meeting.”
“Then this will be quick. What wedding is taking place in my café on Saturday?”
Silence fell at the other end of the line.
Veronika immediately understood that there had been no mistake.
“Did Alina show you the list?” he asked.
“She did.”
“I was going to tell you tonight.”
“Fine. Tell me now.”
Arseny sighed.
“It isn’t this Saturday. It’s three weeks from now. Matvey is getting married.”
Veronika leaned back in her chair.
Matvey was Arseny’s nephew, the son of his older sister, Svetlana. He had recently turned twenty-five. Veronika saw him a few times a year at family gatherings and knew that he had been living with his girlfriend, Inga, for quite a while.
“Congratulations to Matvey. What does his wedding have to do with this list?”
“Mom wants to hold the reception here.”
“Your mother wants to?”
“Well, yes.”
“And when was I supposed to find out?”
Arseny began speaking more quickly.
“Veronika, don’t get worked up. They’re only discussing it. Nothing has been decided yet.”
She looked down at the paper again.
“Twenty kilograms of pork is remarkably specific for a casual discussion.”
“Mom likes to calculate everything in advance.”
“Has she chosen the address in advance too?”
Her husband hesitated.
“Yes.”
“And the room?”
“The main dining room, I suppose.”
“I don’t have a separate room large enough for forty people—not if the café is operating normally.”
“You could close it for the evening.”
 
Veronika slowly ran a finger along the edge of her desk.
“Arseny, are you serious?”
“I’m just suggesting an option.”
“Saturday is our busiest day of the week.”
“It’s only one Saturday.”
“To you, perhaps. To the café, it’s a working day.”
“Let’s discuss it calmly tonight.”
Veronika almost asked another question, then changed her mind.
“Fine. Tonight.”
She ended the call and remained motionless for several seconds.
It was not the wedding itself that bothered her.
She would never have refused to host a proper family reception for Matvey. In fact, she would almost certainly have offered him a discount, helped him choose a menu, and suggested the most convenient arrangement.
What hurt was something else.
Everything had already been discussed.
Without her.
And the plans had progressed far enough for someone to prepare a shopping list.
Veronika opened the booking system and checked the Saturday three weeks away.
A twenty-two-person anniversary dinner was booked for seven o’clock.
Four other tables were reserved by regular guests.
If she handed the entire café over to the wedding party, she would have to cancel confirmed bookings.
She called Alina into the office.
“Tell me exactly who sent you that list.”
“Arseny.”
“Was that all he sent?”
“First, he wrote that it would be for about forty people. I replied that you handled arrangements like that. He said he knew.”
Veronika frowned.
“When was this?”
“Wednesday evening.”
Wednesday.
So her husband had known for at least two days.
“That’s all. Thank you.”
Alina paused by the door.
“Should I block reservations for that Saturday for now?”
“No. Don’t change anything.”
When the door closed, Veronika gave a humorless smile.
Arseny’s family had an interesting habit.
Whenever one of them found a convenient solution to a personal problem, it somehow became a family agreement almost immediately.
Larisa Pavlovna was especially fond of saying, “But we’ve already settled everything among ourselves.”
What usually emerged afterward was that she had done most of the settling.
Once, when Arseny had considered selling his old car, his mother had already found a buyer among her neighbors.
When Svetlana wanted to go to the seaside one summer, Larisa Pavlovna chose the dates herself because that was when it suited her to look after her grandson.
Until now, this habit had barely affected Veronika.
Now it had reached her directly.
The café had been her business long before Arseny entered her life.
At first, it had hardly been a café in the usual sense. Two years before she met her future husband, Veronika rented a tiny ground-floor space in a residential building. It held eight tables, a small display counter, and a kitchen that could barely accommodate two people at once.
She bought some of the ingredients herself, counted the remaining stock every evening, and helped in the kitchen in the morning whenever an employee called in sick.
A year later, business improved.
The neighboring unit became available. Veronika reached an agreement with the owner, joined the two spaces, upgraded the kitchen, and hired two more employees.
Then came a pastry chef.
Then an administrator.
Then a permanent team of servers.
Gradually, the place became the sort of small family café people did not visit once out of curiosity, but returned to again and again.
Veronika did not regard it as a grand enterprise.
But she knew the value of every working day.
Ingredients.
Rent.
Utilities.
Wages.
Taxes.
Equipment repairs.
Dishes and glassware.
Cleaning.
Deliveries.
And dozens of other details that outsiders never noticed.
To a guest, a cup of coffee appeared on the table in a few minutes.
To the owner, far more stood behind that cup.
 
She met Arseny only after the café was already stable.
They dated for about ten months. Afterward, Arseny moved in with her. Veronika owned the apartment, having bought it before they met, so the question of where they would live required little discussion.
They married a year later.
Their financial arrangement was simple.
They shared household expenses.
They discussed major purchases.
Arseny did not interfere with the café, and Veronika stayed out of his professional affairs.
The business income did not sit at home in bundles of cash in a drawer. A significant portion was continually reinvested in the café.
Arseny knew that.
At least, Veronika had always believed he did.
That evening, her husband came home later than usual.
She was already there, reviewing invoices on her laptop.
Arseny removed his jacket, went into the kitchen, and looked inside the refrigerator.
“Is there anything to eat?”
“Yes.”
Veronika closed the laptop.
“First, tell me about the wedding.”
Arseny straightened.
“Veronika, let’s not turn this into a fight.”
“There is no fight yet.”
“Mom called me a few days ago. She said Matvey and Inga wanted a small wedding.”
“Forty people is small?”
“For our family, yes.”
“Go on.”
He sat opposite her.
“They looked at restaurants. Mom didn’t like the prices. She said it was foolish to pay strangers when you own a café.”
“I own it.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“So she suggested holding it here.”
“Did she suggest that to me?”
“She spoke to me first.”
Veronika studied him more closely.
“Why you?”
“Because you might have started calculating the cost of everything immediately.”
“What would be wrong with that?”
Arseny shrugged.
“Nothing. Mom just wanted to handle it like family.”
“And I calculate things in some inhuman way, do I?”
“That isn’t what I said.”
“Then explain what you meant.”
Arseny passed his palm over the tabletop.
“Mom thinks that because the café belongs to you, there’s no reason to pay a room fee or the usual restaurant markup.”
“What about the ingredients?”
“Obviously, they would pay for those.”
“The cooks?”
“Them too.”
“The servers?”
He fell silent.
Veronika continued.
“The pastry chef? Cleaning up after forty people? Closing part of the dining room? Canceling existing reservations?”
“Surely you could calculate it at cost.”
“I could—if someone asked me.”
Arseny frowned.
“I’m asking you now.”
“No. You already sent a food list to my administrator.”
“Mom gave me the list.”
“And you forwarded it to my employee.”
He looked away.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you send it to me?”
He had no answer.
Veronika did not raise her voice.
She did not need to.
“Because you knew I would stop it immediately?”
“I thought we could let Mom draft the menu first.”
“For my café?”
“What difference does it make who prepares a rough draft?”
“A great deal. At this rate, your mother will decide tomorrow how many employees I should schedule.”
Arseny grimaced.
“Don’t exaggerate.”
 
“I’m not. Judging by the list, she has already decided what will be served.”
“She’s simply trying to help Matvey.”
“At my expense?”
“Nobody said it had to be free.”
Veronika looked at him.
After a pause, Arseny added, “Although Mom does think charging relatives the full price would be strange.”
“At last, the truth.”
He stood up.
“Fine. She’ll come by tomorrow and speak to you herself.”
“Let her come.”
“Just try to be reasonable.”
“Arseny, I will remain perfectly reasonable until someone starts telling me what I’m required to do with my own café.”
Larisa Pavlovna arrived at around eleven the next morning.
Veronika had just finished speaking with a supplier and was about to go into the kitchen when she saw her mother-in-law at the entrance.
She had come armed with a notebook.
Larisa Pavlovna removed her coat, surveyed the dining room, and headed straight for the bar.
“Veronichka, I won’t keep you long. Let’s quickly go over the menu.”
Veronika stopped in front of her.
“Good morning.”
“Oh, yes, good morning. Look, I’ve been thinking. We don’t need that much red fish—hardly anyone eats it these days. It would be better to have more appetizers. And two hot dishes should probably be enough.”
She opened the notebook.
“Then the salads. I wrote down four, but we could replace one. We won’t need many desserts because there will be a cake.”
Veronika listened without speaking.
Her mother-in-law turned the page.
“I’ve also worked out the seating, more or less. The bride and groom can sit here, with their parents beside them, and the older relatives should sit farther from the speakers. Will the couple bring their own music?”
“Larisa Pavlovna.”
“Yes?”
“Who told you the wedding would be held here?”
Her mother-in-law looked surprised.
“Arseny said the two of you had spoken.”
“We did. I told him the terms would have to be discussed.”
“That’s why I’m here—to discuss them.”
“Very well.”
Veronika opened the booking program.
“Forty guests?”
“Possibly forty-two. Two people haven’t replied yet.”
“A banquet for that number, with this menu, dedicated service, and the dining room closed for the evening, would cost this much.”
She named the amount.
At first, Larisa Pavlovna did not react.
Then she frowned.
“How much?”
Veronika repeated the figure.
“You must have calculated the regular customer price.”
“For now, yes.”
“And what about the family price?”
“I can offer a discount.”
“Wait.”
Her mother-in-law closed the notebook.
“Are you saying we would have to pay almost as much as we would at a restaurant?”
“This is a café with a kitchen, employees, and ingredients.”
Larisa Pavlovna stared at her as if Veronika had proposed charging money for air.
“The café is yours, and you buy the food. That means your nephew’s wedding should cost us next to nothing.”
Veronika was silent for several seconds.
The woman was entirely serious.
“Why would the food cost nothing?”
“I didn’t say absolutely nothing. You buy it anyway.”
“For the café’s regular operations.”
“Then buy a little more.”
“With money.”
“Veronika, I know perfectly well that food costs money. You don’t have to explain the obvious.”
“Then what, exactly, is supposed to be almost free?”
Larisa Pavlovna shifted the notebook irritably from one hand to the other.
“The premises belong to you. You already employ the cooks and the servers. The kitchen is already operating. What are all these charges for?”
Veronika turned the monitor toward her.
“Let me show you.”
 
She opened the latest supplier invoices.
“Here is the meat. Here is the fish, the cheese, the cream, and the vegetables. These are the wholesale costs before anything is prepared.”
Larisa Pavlovna barely glanced at the screen.
Veronika opened another document.
“A banquet requires separate preparation. Some employees have to come in early. The servers work an additional shift. The pastry chef needs time for a special order. If I close the dining room, I must cancel our normal bookings.”
“What bookings?”
“There is already a twenty-two-person anniversary party on that date.”
“Move it.”
Veronika raised her eyes.
“Where?”
“To another day.”
“Those people booked a particular Saturday.”
“Explain that the owner has a family event.”
“Why should they change their plans because the café owner has a family event?”
Her mother-in-law sighed with irritation.
“You make everything so complicated.”
“I’m explaining how a business operates.”
“Surely you can help relatives just once.”
“I can.”
Larisa Pavlovna softened immediately.
“Exactly. That’s what I’ve been saying.”
“I am prepared to offer a family discount.”
The smile vanished.
“A discount again.”
“Yes.”
“Matvey is just starting married life.”
“I know.”
“They don’t have much money.”
“That is why I’m offering a discount.”
“And that’s all?”
“What else did you expect?”
“At least let them have the ingredients at cost.”
“Then who pays the kitchen staff and the rest of the employees?”
“You pay them anyway.”
“For the café’s ordinary work.”
“Can’t they serve one wedding for a single evening?”
“They can—for wages.”
Larisa Pavlovna snapped the notebook shut, looking as though the conversation had ceased to be rational.
“Listen, I simply don’t understand why a young couple should pay a restaurant when someone close to them owns a café.”
“For the same reason you pay for groceries even if your relative works in a supermarket.”
“That’s entirely different.”
“How?”
Her mother-in-law waved the question away.
“Fine. At least reserve the date.”
“After the deposit is paid.”
“What deposit?”
“The standard one.”
“You require one from us too?”
“From everyone.”
Larisa Pavlovna stared at her for a long moment.
“Veronika, the invitations have already been ordered.”
Veronika stopped scrolling through the documents.
“Which address is printed on them?”
“This one.”
“You put my café’s address on the invitations?”
“Of course. What other address would we use?”
“Until today, you and I had not even discussed the terms.”
“I thought Arseny had settled everything.”
“Arseny does not own the café.”
“He is your husband.”
“Yes.”
“Then he could make an arrangement.”
“No, he could not.”
Larisa Pavlovna’s posture stiffened.
“The invitations have already been printed.”
“That does not constitute a reservation.”
“We’re handing them out tomorrow.”
“That still does not constitute a reservation.”
“What are we supposed to do now?”
Veronika closed the program.
“Choose one of two options. First, book the banquet here at the family rate and pay the deposit. Second, find another venue and replace the invitations.”
“You know perfectly well that no one is going to reprint forty invitations.”
 
“Then the first option remains.”
Larisa Pavlovna pushed the notebook aside.
“You’re deliberately putting me in an embarrassing position.”
Veronika was genuinely astonished.
“I am?”
“Yes. Everything has already been arranged.”
“By whom?”
“By us.”
“Without me.”
“Because we assumed you wouldn’t turn a relative’s wedding into a business transaction.”
Veronika felt heat rise into her face, but her voice remained calm.
“It became a business transaction the moment you decided to order food, employee labor, and the use of a dining room. Being related does not make those costs disappear.”
Larisa Pavlovna took her coat.
“I’ll speak to Arseny.”
“Please do.”
“I hope he can explain how close family members are supposed to handle such things.”
“And I hope he finally explains to you that the café belongs to me.”
Her mother-in-law left.
Alina, who had spent the entire exchange pretending to be deeply occupied with the coffee machine, approached a minute later.
“Should I leave the date unbooked?”
“No.”
“And if wedding guests call?”
“Tell them the event has not been confirmed.”
“Understood.”
Veronika returned to work.
But now she understood why the family had been in such a hurry.
The invitations were leverage.
The plan was not particularly sophisticated, but it was convenient.
Once forty people had received the address, the daughter-in-law would feel too embarrassed to refuse.
There would be phone calls.
Questions.
The bride and groom would grow anxious.
Someone would inevitably say, “Are you really going to ruin the wedding over money?”
In the end, the café owner would be expected to agree so that she did not appear to be the guilty party.
Arseny came home irritated that evening.
“Mom called,” he said.
“I’m sure she did.”
“Couldn’t you have been gentler?”
Veronika put down her phone.
“About what?”
“All of it.”
“For example?”
“You didn’t have to present her with a bill immediately.”
“She came to discuss a banquet.”
“They’re family.”
“Which is why I offered a discount.”
Arseny sat beside her.
“Do you understand that she has already told everyone she is helping Matvey organize the wedding?”
“She is certainly being helpful—especially with someone else’s café.”
“Don’t start.”
“I didn’t start this.”
“Mom is embarrassed now.”
“Because she promised something she had no authority to give.”
“Couldn’t you make an exception just once?”
Veronika turned toward him.
“Arseny, no vague phrases. What exactly are you proposing?”
“Host the wedding.”
“For free?”
“Not entirely.”
“Then how much will your family pay?”
He named a figure.
Veronika could not help laughing.
“That wouldn’t even cover the ingredients.”
“There you go, calculating again.”
“Because I run a business.”
“This is Matvey’s wedding.”
“And I am willing to give him a wedding gift.”
Arseny went quiet.
“What kind of gift?”
“A specific sum. I can transfer it directly to him or deduct it from the banquet bill, whichever he prefers.”
“Mom wants to help them more than that.”
“Then she can help them with her own money.”
“Veronika.”
“What?”
“You know she’ll now have to explain why she promised everyone the wedding would be here.”
“No, she won’t. If Matvey signs a contract and pays the deposit, the wedding can take place here.”
“And if they can’t afford it?”
“Then they can reduce the menu or invite fewer guests.”
“You’re talking about them as though they were strangers.”
“I’m talking like someone who has been asked to pay for another person’s celebration without her consent.”
Arseny stared at her for several seconds, then stood.
“Fine.”
“Is that all?”
“What else is there to say? You’ve made your decision.”
“No. Other people made a decision for me. I’m simply correcting the situation.”
The next two days passed quietly.
Larisa Pavlovna did not call.
Arseny did not raise the subject either.
Veronika assumed the family would either find another restaurant or finally accept her terms.
At around two o’clock on Tuesday afternoon, Alina looked into the office.
“There’s a young man and a woman here to see you.”
“Who?”
“Matvey and Inga.”
Veronika was surprised.
“Send them in.”
Matvey entered first. Tall and thin, he wore a dark jacket. Inga walked beside him carrying a folder.
Both looked tense.
“Hi,” Matvey said.
“Hello. Sit down.”
Inga came straight to the point.
 
“Veronika, may we ask you directly? Is our wedding going to be held here or not?”
“At present, there is no reservation.”
They exchanged a glance.
Matvey frowned.
“What do you mean, no reservation?”
“No deposit has been paid, and no contract has been signed.”
“How can the deposit not have been paid?”
Veronika looked at him.
“It hasn’t.”
“We handed over the money a week ago.”
“To whom?”
“Aunt Larisa.”
For a moment, Veronika thought she had misheard.
“My mother-in-law?”
“Yes.”
Matvey took out his phone.
“We transferred the banquet money to her.”
He opened his banking app and showed Veronika the transaction.
It was a considerable sum.
Veronika checked the date.
The transfer had been made a full week before Alina received the shopping list.
“Why did you send the money to Larisa Pavlovna?”
Inga sat a little straighter.
“She said she would make all the arrangements with you. At first, we planned to visit restaurants ourselves, but Aunt Larisa suggested your café. She said it would be cheaper here and that she would keep everything under control.”
“Did she promise it would be free?”
“No,” Matvey replied. “We never discussed anything being free.”
Inga nodded.
“We deliberately didn’t want a large wedding. At first, we planned for about thirty people, but then more relatives were added. We calculated our budget beforehand.”
Veronika slowly closed the planner in front of her.
“Exactly how much did you give Larisa Pavlovna?”
Matvey named the amount.
It was almost precisely the sum needed for a proper banquet at the discounted family rate.
“What did she tell you after receiving the transfer?”
“That she would handle everything herself.”
“Did you see the menu?”
“A draft.”
“Was it the one with pork, red fish, and several kinds of appetizers?”
Inga smiled for the first time since entering the office.
“Probably. She sent us a picture.”
Matvey placed his phone on the desk.
“What happened, exactly?”
Veronika considered her answer for several seconds.
She could have kept quiet.
She could have said there had been a misunderstanding and stayed out of the relationship between an aunt and her nephew.
But then, somehow, the responsibility for explaining the situation would once again fall on her.
“Your aunt came here and said the banquet should cost almost nothing because I own the café.”
Matvey froze.
Inga frowned.
“What do you mean, almost nothing?”
“Exactly what it sounds like.”
“Then what happened to our money?”
“That is what I would like to understand too.”
Matvey opened his messages.
“Wait.”
He scrolled for several minutes.
“Here. She wrote: ‘Transfer it to me. I’ll pay for everything so you don’t have to run around.’”
Inga looked at Veronika.
“Maybe she intended to pass it on to you?”
“Perhaps.”
“But she didn’t?”
“No.”
Matvey put his phone away. Red patches had appeared along his cheekbones.
“I’m calling her right now.”
“Not here,” Veronika said.
He looked surprised.
“Why not?”
“Because you came to arrange your wedding. We can settle that separately. Family disputes are better handled away from employees and guests.”
Matvey nodded.
“All right.”
Veronika turned the laptop toward them.
“First, let’s decide whether you still want to hold the wedding here.”
Inga answered at once.
“We do.”
“Then this is the available arrangement. I cannot close the entire café because some reservations are already confirmed, but I can give you the adjoining dining room. It will comfortably hold forty people.”
“That works for us.”
“We can also simplify the menu. Some of the items on your aunt’s list are genuinely excessive.”
Matvey gave a humorless smile.
“She always orders food as if she plans to feed everyone for a week.”
“Then we’ll put together something sensible.”
They spent about an hour discussing main dishes, appetizers, drinks, and seating.
Veronika applied the family discount immediately. She lowered the total a little more by choosing a simpler selection of dishes.
The final price was reasonable.
Inga visibly relaxed.
“This is about what we expected to spend in the first place.”
“Then there is no problem.”
Matvey still looked grim.
“There is one problem.”
 
“That one is no longer mine.”
He nodded.
“No. It isn’t.”
Arseny came home unusually early that evening.
The moment he walked through the door, he asked, “Did Matvey come to see you?”
“Yes.”
“With Inga?”
“Yes.”
Arseny went into the kitchen.
“They called me.”
Veronika waited in silence.
“Did you know they had transferred money to Mom?”
“I found out today.”
Arseny took out his phone.
“So did I.”
He looked more bewildered than angry.
“Mom never said a word to me.”
“Much less to me.”
“She told me the couple barely had any money.”
“They had already saved the full amount.”
“I’ve seen the transfer.”
Veronika closed the cupboard.
“Then you have something to discuss with your mother.”
“We’ve already spoken.”
“And?”
Arseny gave a bitter laugh.
“At first, she said it was none of my business.”
“Convenient.”
“Then she said she planned to explain everything after the wedding.”
“Even more convenient.”
“I asked her to come here tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“I want to hear a proper explanation of what she had in mind.”
Larisa Pavlovna arrived the following evening.
This time, she brought no notebook.
She sat in the living room and immediately demanded, “Why have I been summoned like a schoolgirl?”
Arseny stood by the window.
“Mom, why did Matvey transfer money to you?”
“For the wedding.”
“I understand that. Where is it?”
Larisa Pavlovna looked at her son.
“In my account.”
“Why didn’t you pay Veronika?”
“Because we hadn’t agreed on the terms yet.”
Veronika sat in an armchair and did not interfere.
Arseny continued.
“You told me Matvey had almost no money.”
“Does he have a lot?”
“He gave you enough to pay for the banquet.”
“So?”
“Then why were you trying to arrange it for free?”
His mother adjusted her sleeve irritably.
“Not for free. I was trying to save money.”
“For whom?”
Larisa Pavlovna frowned.
“For the newlyweds.”
“They gave you that money specifically for the wedding.”
“Does that mean every last ruble must be spent?”
“No. But you were trying to save it at Veronika’s expense.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, here we go again.”
Veronika looked at her.
“No, Larisa Pavlovna. Now we are only getting started.”
Her mother-in-law turned toward her.
“What?”
“You came to me and claimed the couple had no money. At that very moment, their money was already in your account.”
“I intended to leave some of it for them.”
“Did they ask you to do that?”
“What difference does it make?”
“A great deal.”
Arseny sat opposite his mother.
“Mom, tell us plainly. What were you planning?”
Larisa Pavlovna remained silent for a long time.
Finally, she said with irritation, “I was going to return part of the money to them after the wedding.”
“How?”
“In the obvious way. The wedding would be held at Veronika’s café. You would spend as little as possible. Then I would give the remainder back to Matvey and say, ‘Here, use this to set up your home.’”
Veronika smiled without amusement.
At last, the entire scheme made sense.
Larisa Pavlovna had wanted to present the newlyweds with a generous gift.
She simply expected someone else to pay for it.
“So you intended to give them my money as a present?” Veronika asked.
“You twist everything.”
“No. Suppose the banquet costs one hundred. Matvey gives you one hundred, and you pressure me to provide it for twenty. The remaining eighty becomes your gift?”
“I would have returned it to Matvey.”
“In your own name.”
Her mother-in-law flushed.
“What difference does the name make? The important thing is that the young couple benefits.”
Arseny shook his head.
“Mom, do you understand what you’ve done?”
“What have I done? I wanted to help my own nephew.”
“With someone else’s resources.”
“One banquet won’t bankrupt Veronika’s café.”
Veronika leaned forward.
“Would paying for one banquet bankrupt you?”
Larisa Pavlovna fell silent.
“If not, pay for the wedding yourself,” Veronika continued. “And return Matvey’s money to him.”
“Why should I?”
“Exactly.”
Her mother-in-law rose.
“I can see that there is no point talking to either of you.”
Arseny stood as well.
“There is. First, transfer Matvey’s money back.”
“Did he complain to you?”
“He didn’t complain. He asked why the banquet hadn’t been paid for.”
“I’ll return it.”
“Today.”
Larisa Pavlovna shot her son a hard look.
“Are you ordering me around now?”
“In this situation, yes.”
They stared at each other for several seconds.
Then Larisa Pavlovna took out her phone.
“Fine.”
She completed the transfer in front of them.
A minute later, Arseny received a message from Matvey confirming that the money had been returned.
His mother put the phone back in her handbag.
“Satisfied?”
Veronika answered, “Now I am.”
“I hope you won’t ruin the wedding, at least.”
“If Matvey pays the deposit and signs the contract, the wedding will take place.”
“That contract again.”
“Yes.”
“For relatives.”
“Especially for relatives.”
Larisa Pavlovna said nothing more and left.
Two days later, Matvey returned alone.
 
He went straight to Veronika.
“The money came back.”
“Arseny told me.”
“I wanted to apologize.”
“For what?”
“For this entire mess. I genuinely thought you and Aunt Larisa had discussed everything.”
“You had no reason to question her word.”
Matvey grimaced.
“Apparently, I did.”
He took out the documents.
“Let’s make it official.”
Veronika called Alina into the office.
They signed the contract, recording the date, number of guests, menu, and deposit amount.
Matvey paid immediately.
Then Veronika handed him a separate sheet.
“This is the revised menu.”
He looked it over.
“The price is lower.”
“Family discount.”
“Thank you.”
“There is one more thing.”
“What?”
“The cake is on me.”
Matvey looked up.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I’ve already decided.”
“Aunt Veronika…”
“Don’t argue. It is my gift—specific, clear, and freely offered.”
He smiled.
“All right.”
“But Inga must choose the design herself. After dealing with your aunt, I’m no longer deciding anything on behalf of the bride and groom.”
Matvey laughed.
“That’s probably wise.”
The next three weeks of preparation passed without a single serious problem.
Inga came by several times to discuss the details.
She proved calm and practical. She did not demand the impossible, change her mind every day, or wait until the last moment to report changes in the guest count.
Larisa Pavlovna did not appear at the café again.
Once, she called Alina and attempted to add two appetizers to the menu.
The administrator replied politely, “Only the client named in the contract can approve changes to the menu.”
“I’m the groom’s aunt.”
“I understand.”
“Then write them down.”
“I’m afraid I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because Matvey is the client.”
Afterward, Larisa Pavlovna called her son and complained about “all this bureaucracy.”
Arseny repeated the conversation to his wife and, for the first time since the entire affair began, laughed.
“What are you so pleased about?” Veronika asked.
“Mom said your café has become like a government office.”
“Wonderful. That means people have noticed the rules.”
“She still thinks you could have done it for free.”
“And I still think she could have paid for it herself.”
That ended the argument.
On the wedding day, Veronika arrived at the café early.
It was not because she distrusted her staff.
She simply supervised every large event personally.
The kitchen team had begun work that morning.
Alina checked the seating plan.
The servers prepared the room.
 
The pastry chef delivered the cake shortly before noon.
Inga had chosen a simple design without excessive decorations, and Veronika liked it far more than any of Larisa Pavlovna’s original suggestions.
Guests began arriving at five.
Larisa Pavlovna was among the first.
She inspected the room.
Checked the tables.
And peered toward the kitchen.
Alina stopped her immediately.
“Larisa Pavlovna, guests aren’t allowed in there.”
“I only want to take a look.”
“Guests may not enter the kitchen.”
Larisa Pavlovna looked at the administrator, then noticed Veronika and apparently decided not to make a scene.
“Very well.”
The wedding turned out exactly as the couple had wanted.
There were no endless obligatory toasts.
No never-ending procession of dishes.
No ostentatious luxury.
Matvey laughed often.
Inga barely let go of his hand all evening.
The parents on both sides gradually relaxed.
Even Arseny, who had spent the past several weeks bracing himself for another family conflict, was chatting comfortably with his nephew by the middle of the evening.
Larisa Pavlovna sat at the table looking as though she were attending a hearing whose verdict had gone against her.
When the cake was brought out, one of the relatives remarked, “It’s beautiful. Did Larisa Pavlovna arrange it?”
She had already opened her mouth, but Matvey answered first.
“No. It was Veronika’s gift.”
Several people turned toward her.
Veronika merely smiled and continued speaking with Alina.
Larisa Pavlovna grew even quieter after that.
Later, while the guests were dancing, she approached Veronika.
“It turned out well after all.”
“Yes.”
“This is more or less what I wanted.”
“I know.”
“If we had agreed from the beginning, there would have been far less stress.”
Veronika looked at her.
“I agree.”
Her mother-in-law clearly expected her to continue.
Veronika did not.
“I was only trying to do what was best,” Larisa Pavlovna said.
“I believe you.”
“Matvey could have used that money.”
“He can use what remained after paying for the wedding.”
“More could have remained.”
“Yes. If someone had given him a larger gift.”
Larisa Pavlovna frowned.
Veronika calmly added, “But the banquet still had to be paid for.”
Her mother-in-law understood that reviving the old dispute was pointless and returned to the table.
No one mentioned money again that evening.
The last guests left well after midnight.
Matvey and Inga came over to say goodbye.
“Thank you,” Inga said. “Truly.”
“Did you enjoy yourselves?”
“Very much.”
Matvey nodded.
“And thank you for not canceling everything after our family’s unique approach to event planning.”
“None of that was your fault.”
“At least I’ve learned to read contracts now.”
Veronika smiled.
“A useful skill to acquire at your wedding.”
They left.
Alina began checking the dining room with the servers.
Arseny approached his wife.
“Shall we go?”
“In twenty minutes. I want to close everything properly.”
He helped collect the remaining documents from the bar.
“Mom isn’t happy.”
“I noticed.”
“But Matvey is.”
“It was his wedding.”
“True.”
Arseny was quiet for a moment.
“I was wrong.”
 
Veronika looked at him.
“When you sent the list to Alina?”
“Then too.”
“What else?”
“When I decided it would be easier to agree with Mom first and persuade you afterward.”
She nodded.
“That was worse than the list.”
“I understand.”
“Good.”
The following Monday, Veronika arrived at the café before Alina.
She opened the management program and added a new clause to the booking rules.
From now on, family celebrations would be handled exactly like any other large event.
Client.
Date.
Number of guests.
Menu.
Contract.
Deposit.
No verbal promises made through a husband, mother-in-law, sister, aunt, or anyone claiming that “we have already agreed on everything.”
When Alina arrived, Veronika showed her the new rule.
The administrator read it and smiled.
“Even if Larisa Pavlovna arrives with her notebook?”
“Especially if Larisa Pavlovna arrives with her notebook.”
“And if she says the invitations have already been printed?”
“Offer her a lovely folder for the contract.”
Alina laughed.
Veronika closed the file and went to the kitchen to inspect the morning delivery.
Half an hour later, the café opened.
The first customers came in.
 
Menus were placed on the tables.
Orders began moving through the kitchen.
An ordinary working day continued as though no family wedding had ever taken place there.
Only now, a new booking policy sat in the administrator’s folder—the result of one exceptionally useful lesson.
Relatives could receive a discount.
They could receive a gift.
They could be helped to choose a menu, reduce costs, or find a suitable date.
But no one could ever again assume the right to use the café for free simply because its owner happened to sit beside them at the same family table.