When Vera Nikolaevna received a message that her third cousin Tatiana, who lived somewhere in the depths of the Urals, was asking to stay with her and her children in Moscow for a couple of weeks, her first reaction was to refuse. What could they possibly have in common? They had last seen each other about twenty years ago at their shared grandmother’s funeral, and even then, they barely exchanged a few words.
“Tanya from the Urals is coming, can you imagine?” Vera’s mother wrote to her. “The youngest daughter got a ticket to a music camp for some contest, and the older one is going to submit documents to Moscow State University. Will you let them stay overnight?”
“Overnight! — Vera scoffed. — I know these overnights. They come for a week and end up staying a month.”
Vera Nikolaevna, marketing director at a large company, was used to a certain level of comfort. Her apartment in central Moscow was furnished with carefully considered minimalism; every item had its place. The thought of strangers, especially children, appearing in that space caused her inner resistance.
But she couldn’t refuse relatives. Her upbringing wouldn’t allow it.
“Of course, let them come,” she said to her mother on the phone, mentally rearranging her vacation plans. “Where would it be more convenient for them to sleep — in the living room or my bedroom?”
“You’ll figure it out,” her mother was delighted. “Tanya is an unpretentious woman. She and her husband built their house with their own hands. He works as a forest ranger, spends a lot of time in the woods. And she runs some kind of library part-time.”
“Well, of course,” Vera thought. “A forest ranger and a librarian from the middle of nowhere. I’ll probably have to feed them with a spoon and take them to museums.”
On the day the guests arrived, Vera was nervous. She tidied the apartment, ordered groceries with delivery, made up the sofa in the living room for Tatiana and the younger daughter, and arranged a place in the bedroom for the older one. She planned to sleep on a small folding couch in her office.
The doorbell rang exactly at the agreed time.
“Hello, Verochka,” a woman of about forty-five stood in the doorway, dressed in a simple linen dress. Her hair was neatly tied in a bun, and her eyes shone with sincere joy. “Thank you for agreeing to host us.”
Behind her, two girls shifted from foot to foot — one about sixteen, tall and serious, the other smaller, around ten, with curious eyes.
“Come in,” Vera stepped aside, carefully examining her relative. Tatiana looked… ordinary. No village awkwardness or provincial tastelessness, which she had somehow expected.
“This is Masha,” Tatiana placed her hand on the older girl’s shoulder. “And this is Liza. Girls, say hello to Aunt Vera.”
“Hello,” Masha nodded seriously.
“Hello, Aunt Vera!” Liza chirped. “Your place is so beautiful! Like in a magazine!”
“Thank you,” Vera smiled involuntarily. “Come in, make yourselves comfortable. The journey must have been tiring?”
“Two days on the road,” Tatiana shrugged. “But we’re used to it. From our village to Yekaterinburg, a few hours by bus, then the train.”
While the guests unpacked, Vera watched them secretly. No fuss, everything clear and organized. Tatiana carefully took clothes from the bag, the girls silently helped. Interesting — what would they do in Moscow for two weeks?
“I’ve freed up my bedroom for you,” Vera said. “Masha can sleep there, and you and Liza can stay in the living room. I’ll take the office.”
“Oh, Vera, no need for such fuss,” Tatiana was genuinely surprised. “We’ll all fit fine on the folding beds. You’ve already helped us by letting us stay.”
Vera shook her head. “No, if you’re guests, then comfortably. I insist.”
Tatiana didn’t argue, just nodded gratefully.
“You must be hungry after the trip?” Vera asked. “I ordered dinner; it’ll be here soon.”
“Thanks, but we ate on the train,” Tatiana replied. “And if you don’t mind, I’d like to cook something myself tomorrow. I brought some food — dried mushrooms, berries, various herbs. I’d love to treat you.”
“Here we go,” Vera thought with slight irritation. “Now she’ll start bossing around my kitchen.”
“No need to worry,” she said aloud. “You must have a full schedule anyway. When does Liza go to camp?”
“In three days,” Tatiana answered. “And Masha has a university interview in a week. So we have some time to explore Moscow. If you don’t mind, of course.”
“What would you like to see?” Vera asked, mentally preparing to plan a cultural program for the visitors from the province.
“Masha wants to visit the Biological Museum and the Biology Faculty at MSU,” Tatiana replied. “And Liza dreams of going to the Tretyakov Gallery.”
Vera raised her eyebrows in surprise. She had thought she would have to take relatives to the zoo and Red Square.
“And you, Tanya? What interests you?”
“Me?” Tatiana thought. “You know, I’d like to go to the Pushkin Museum. I have an art historian degree, though I’ve never worked in the field.”
Vera almost choked.
“An art historian? I thought you were a librarian.”
“And a librarian too,” Tatiana laughed. “In our village, you take what you can get. I also teach — I lead a world art culture club at school.”
The next few days went differently than Vera expected. In the mornings, Tatiana got up first and cooked breakfast — not just eggs or sandwiches, but real culinary masterpieces. Fluffy pancakes with lingonberry jam, casseroles with wild berries, syrniki (cheese pancakes) whose aroma made Vera’s mouth water.
“Tanya, where did you learn to cook like this?” Vera couldn’t resist on the third day, eagerly eating the syrniki with sour cream.
“What’s there to learn?” Tatiana shrugged. “When my husband goes to the forest for a week and the nearest store is ten kilometers away, you have to learn how to make something tasty from simple ingredients. We have our own farm — chickens, garden. You eat what you grow.”
After breakfast, they usually went their separate ways. Vera went to work, Masha prepared for university entrance, and Tatiana and Liza went to see the city. But they never asked Vera to accompany them or make itineraries — Tatiana knew the map well and knew what she wanted to show her daughters.
In the evenings at dinner, which Tatiana now always cooked despite Vera’s protests, they discussed the day’s impressions. And Vera was surprised to find herself increasingly interested in their conversations.
“…and imagine, Vera, Liza gave us a tour of the Vrubel hall at the Tretyakov!” Tatiana said admiringly. “The guide even came over to listen.”
“I just read a lot about him,” Liza murmured shyly. “Our teacher gave us books.”
“And which faculty are you applying to, Masha?” Vera asked the older girl.
“To the Biology Faculty at MSU,” she answered. “I want to study medicinal plants. There’s such a variety of flora in the Urals, but it’s still so little studied.”
“And your chances?”
“Not bad,” Masha shrugged. “I have a gold medal and wins at Olympiads. But the competition is tough.”
Vera caught herself genuinely worrying about this serious girl. Suddenly, she wanted Masha to get in and stay in Moscow. Maybe even live with her at first until she settled in…
This thought surprised Vera. She, who always valued her personal space, was suddenly ready to offer a barely known person to live with her? What was happening to her?
“Vera, are you sick?” Tatiana asked on the fifth day when Vera came home from work pale and with dark circles under her eyes.
“No, just a hard day,” Vera tiredly sat down on a chair. “Our main client canceled the contract, and now everyone is in a panic. I spent the whole day trying to fix it, calling, writing, convincing…”
“Can I help?” Tatiana kindly put her hand on Vera’s shoulder.
“What can you do to help?” Vera blurted out and immediately regretted her words. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. It’s just been a tough day.”
“I understand,” Tatiana nodded, not offended. “Let me make you some tea? I have a good blend that calms and restores strength.”
Vera wanted to refuse but then waved her hand. “Alright. It won’t make things worse.”
Tatiana went to the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a cup of fragrant tea.
“Drink slowly. And tell me what happened. Sometimes it helps to talk it out.”
And Vera, not knowing why, began to talk. About the contract, pressure from the bosses, the prospect of losing her job, the mortgage on her apartment she still had to pay for years…
“…and the main thing, I don’t know what to do next!” she finished almost in tears. “If we lose this client, my whole career will be over.”
Tatiana listened carefully without interrupting, then asked, “Why did the client refuse?”
“They say our offer is too standard and doesn’t take into account their business specifics.”
“And are they right?”
Vera thought.
“Maybe. We do use typical solutions. But we just don’t have the resources to create a fully customized project!”
“What if you approach it differently?” Tatiana suggested. “We had a similar situation in our library. We got a very small budget for updating the collection, but we had to somehow attract new readers. Do you know what we did?”
“What?” Vera looked at her with interest.
“We created a project called ‘A Book from a Neighbor.’ Every resident could bring a book that impressed them and write a short review. We made those reviews look nice and attached them to the books. It was like a personal recommendation from someone familiar. And you know, it worked! People started coming to read books recommended by their neighbors.”
“How will this help me with the contract?” Vera asked puzzled.
“I mean, sometimes you don’t need a big budget or typical solutions. You just need to find something simple but personal that touches the client. Something that shows you really thought about them, not just offering a standard set of services.”
Vera pondered. Tatiana’s words made sense. Maybe it was time to reconsider the approach?
“You know,” she said, sipping tea, “you’re right. This client has a philosophy — they keep talking about ‘returning to the roots.’ Maybe it’s worth playing on that…”
They discussed a new presentation concept late into the night, and by morning Vera had a completely new approach that she presented to the client the next day. To her surprise, it worked — the contract was saved.
When it was time to send Liza to the music camp, Vera volunteered to go with them.
“Vera, you have to work,” Tatiana was surprised.
“I took a day off,” she waved her hand. “I want to see this camp. And help you if needed.”
On the way, Liza talked about her music school, the contest where she won the grand prize, the teacher who worked with her for free.
“…and you know, Aunt Vera, when I grow up, I want to return to our village and teach children music. Many are talented; they just don’t have opportunities.”
Vera looked at this serious girl with the violin case and thought how wrong her ideas about the “country folk from the Urals” had been.
The camp turned out to be a prestigious place for gifted children, and Vera noticed how some parents who brought their children in expensive cars looked at modestly dressed Tatiana with slight disdain.
“Don’t pay attention,” Vera whispered, noticing Tatiana straighten her simple dress. “Believe me, your Liza can outshine many of these pampered Moscow kids.”
“I’m not worried about myself,” Tatiana replied. “I just don’t want Liza to be excluded because she’s not from Moscow and not from a wealthy family.”
“If she plays as well as you say, they’ll respect her no matter what.”
Indeed, when parents gave a small concert before leaving, Liza performed Tchaikovsky’s piece so beautifully that the hall fell silent, then burst into applause.
“She’s amazing,” Vera whispered to Tatiana, wiping a tear. “You raised incredible children.”
“Thank you,” Tatiana simply answered. “We do our best.”
When it was time for Masha’s interview at MSU, Vera unexpectedly took another day off.
“I’ll accompany you,” she told her niece. “For moral support.”
“No need, Aunt Vera,” Masha protested. “I’ll manage.”
“I know you will,” Vera smiled. “But I want to come. Besides, I graduated from MSU myself and can show you some secret spots only students know.”
After the interview, which Masha said went well, they walked around the campus. Vera showed her the faculty buildings, told stories from her student days, and with surprise caught echoes of the long-forgotten joy of discovery and knowledge that once filled her.
“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “I once dreamed of doing science. But then I got caught up in business, career, money…”
“Why not return?” Masha asked. “Mom says it’s never too late to start doing what you really love.”
Vera looked at her niece in surprise.
“Your mother is a very wise woman.”
“I know,” Masha replied simply.
On the last evening before Tatiana and the girls left (the admission results would come later by email), Vera arranged a farewell dinner. She herself cooked several dishes using recipes she learned from Tatiana during those two weeks.
“Tanya,” she said when they were alone after dinner, “I want you to know: if Masha gets in, she can live with me. And come for holidays, and really… anytime.”
Tatiana looked at her intently.
“Thank you, Vera. That’s a very generous offer. But I want you to understand, this isn’t temporary. Students study for several years.”
“I know,” Vera nodded. “And I’m not just offering out of politeness. I liked… not being alone.”
Tatiana smiled.
“You know, when I was coming to you, I was nervous too. I thought: what would I talk about with this successful Moscow businesswoman? But it turned out we’re just two women who have a lot in common.”
“And even more differences,” Vera laughed. “But that’s probably even more interesting.”
They talked late into the night. Tatiana spoke about life in the village, her husband, how they built their house with their own hands, the library she turned into the village cultural center, the school plays she directs, the garden that feeds them year-round.
And Vera, in turn, told about her work, how she strove for success, how she achieved recognition, how she bought this apartment, saving on everything, her trips to Europe, exhibitions, and concerts.
The more they talked, the clearer Vera understood: what she had considered advantages of her “capital” life — career, money, status — had not made her happier than Tatiana with her simple life in the Ural village.
Three months passed. Masha got into MSU and now lived with Vera, helping around the house. Vera began attending evening art history courses — a long-time passion she preferred over career ambitions. And she started planning a vacation — not to Europe as usual, but to the Urals, to visit Tatiana.