Sometimes relatives think they can just walk all over you simply because you’re related by blood. That’s exactly what my sister Veronika decided — since I was lucky enough to get a summer house (which, by the way, I worked my butt off for five years without any vacations to afford!), now this summer house is the perfect place for her “grand” 40th birthday party.
And what am I supposed to be… a storage room? A waitress? A cleaner?
It all started three weeks ago. Veronika called. Her voice was honey-sweet, almost annoyingly so.
“Svetochka, sunshine, how are you?”
I thought, okay, she needs something. And I was right.
“Listen, here’s the thing… I’m turning forty soon, you know — a big deal! I wanted to celebrate at a restaurant, but then I thought — why? You have such a gorgeous summer house! There’s nature, a river nearby, plenty of space… Basically, I’ve already planned everything!”
I almost dropped the phone.
“What do you mean ‘planned everything’? Veronika, wait…”
“Don’t worry!” she interrupted. “I’ll organize everything, you won’t have to do a thing! Well… maybe just chop some salads, greet the guests… and grill some kebabs… Oh, and you’ll handle the music — you’re always good at that!”
I was silent. Something bubbled in my chest.
“Veronika,” I said slowly, trying to keep calm, “this is my summer house. You can’t just take it and…”
“Oh God, Sveta!” she interrupted again. “Why are you acting like a child? I’m your sister! Are you really stingy? I’ve already invited everyone, by the way. About thirty people will come.”
Thirty?!
“And where are they all going to fit?”
“Don’t worry! Some will stay in the house, some in tents on the plot. I already sketched the seating plan. By the way! You’ll have to free up your bedroom for me and Oleg. After all, I’m the birthday girl!”
I sat there, staring at the wall, realizing that my beloved summer house — my little paradise where I grow roses and strawberries, where I write in the evenings sitting on the veranda — was going to be turned into some kind of circus with a crowd of strangers.
“And also,” Veronika continued, not noticing my silence, “you have a big fridge, right? Because I ordered a three-tier cake, it’ll need to be stored somewhere…”
I didn’t argue on the phone. I hung up, saying I’d call back. And I started thinking.
Veronika had always been like this. Since childhood. Daddy’s favorite, the youngest, spoiled beyond belief. I remember at my graduation she “accidentally” spilled coffee on my only fancy dress. And at my wedding, she showed up wearing white — white! — a dress almost more extravagant than mine.
And now… my summer house. The place where I escape from the whole world. The place where every floorboard was laid by my own hands (well, with the help of Dima, the neighbor, of course). And she already planned everything?!
I poured myself some tea and sat down to think.
“No way, dear little sister,” I said out loud, looking out the window. “Enough!”
The plan came together instantly. I was even surprised how quickly all the details formed in my head. I smiled. Veronika wants a birthday party at the summer house? She’s going to get one…
For the next two weeks, I was all sweetness. I called my sister back:
“Veronika, you’re right! Of course, we’ll celebrate your birthday at the summer house! It will be unforgettable!”
She was even taken aback by my compliance. And I went on:
“More than that, I’ll handle decorating the yard! And yes, bring your cake, I’ll free up space in the fridge. And I’ll prepare the bedroom for you and Oleg. Everything will be top-notch!”
“Sveeeeta…” my sister drawled suspiciously. “Are you sick?”
“I just thought it over and realized you’re right. We’re family! How could I not help my dear sister?”
There was a pause on the line.
“Well… great!” Veronika finally said. “Then I’ll send you the guest list and the menu. And, by the way, maybe you could light up the sauna? Oleg loves to steam…”
“I’ll do everything,” I purred and hung up.
Then I started acting.
The “D-day” came on a sunny July Saturday. I arrived at the summer house two days earlier — “to prepare,” as I explained to Veronika. She was thrilled with my enthusiasm.
First, I called all the neighbors in the summer community. Explained the situation, and — miracle! — everyone understood me. Especially Anna Petrovna from the plot opposite, who can’t stand noisy parties.
Then I called the local police station. I had a friend there — Sergey Palych, I once helped his daughter get into university. Explained the situation to him. He laughed and promised to “keep an eye on things.”
Then I got busy with the summer house. Watered the roses, picked the strawberries… And prepared something else.
When Veronika and her husband arrived (three hours before the party start — “to supervise the preparations”), I greeted them with open arms.
“Verochka! Olezhek! Come in! Everything’s ready!”
My sister looked around warily. The yard really shone with cleanliness. I even hung garlands and blew up balloons — beautiful!
“Where are the tables?” she asked first.
“They’ll be here, everything will be!” I assured her. “Let’s put your things away first, I’ll show you your room.”
The house was cool and cozy. I led them to the bedroom — my favorite room with a garden view.
“Here, make yourselves comfortable! I even put fresh lavender-scented bed linens. You love lavender, right?”
“I sneeze at it,” Oleg grumbled, but Veronika elbowed him.
“Everything’s perfect, Sveta!” she chirped. “Where will we put the cake?”
“In the fridge, of course! See, I freed up a whole shelf. Bring it in!”
While they unpacked and arranged the huge cake, I casually asked:
“By the way, what time will the first guests arrive?”
“I invited everyone for three,” Veronika answered, carefully smoothing out creases on the bedspread. “By the way, where’s the sparkling wine? Did you buy it? And we’ll need ice…”
“Everything’s ready, don’t worry,” I smiled. “Go take a look around, I’m going to take a shower. It’s hot today!”
And I left them to get settled.
At 2:30 PM, the first gatebell rang. I looked out the window.
“Veronika!” I shouted. “I think that’s for you!”
My sister, who was just arranging some trinkets on the vanity, jumped up.
“Already?! So early? I asked for three!”
And ran to open the gate. I calmly went back to putting on makeup, listening to voices outside… not quite festive.
A minute later Veronika stormed back in, red as a lobster.
“Those are some… builders! They say you called them to put up a fence! Today!”
I widened my eyes.
“Oh God, they got the date wrong! I ordered them for NEXT Saturday!”
“Send them away!” my sister screamed.
“I can’t,” I shrugged. “I paid a non-refundable deposit. And they already unloaded materials. See?”
Outside, a pile of sand and gravel towered, and two burly men were already marking the foundation for the fence.
“Are you crazy?” Veronika grabbed her head. “I have guests in half an hour! Thirty people!”
“Don’t worry,” I patted her shoulder. “They’ll work quietly in the far corner of the yard. Won’t even bother you. Although, it will be a little dusty… and noisy… They have a jackhammer…”
At that moment, as if on cue, the jackhammer started up, and Veronika jumped.
“That’s impossible!” she shouted, trying to talk over the noise. “Stop them!”
“I can’t,” I shrugged again. “Contract’s signed. But don’t worry! The guests won’t even notice!”
At 2:45 PM, the second bell rang. This time it was a truck with the sign “Sewage services.”
“And who are they?!” Veronika hissed, no longer speaking but seething.
“Oh!” I slapped my forehead. “I forgot to tell you! My septic tank got clogged yesterday. I called for pumping…”
“Today? On my birthday?!”
“When else? You don’t want your guests to use a porta-potty, do you? It’s your birthday, everything must be perfect!”
While we argued, two men in coveralls appeared, unrolling a thick hose from the truck to the septic tank. And the smell… Oh, that smell!
Oleg poked his head out of the house:
“What’s that stench?” and immediately stepped back. “Holy crap… Veronika, what’s going on?!”
“Ask your crazy sister!” Veronika howled. “She turned this place into… a construction site and a cesspit on my birthday!”
I helplessly spread my hands:
“Why are you so nervous? They’ll be done quickly… Probably.”
At that moment, one of the sewage workers shouted:
“Ma’am! There’s a problem! The hose won’t fit, we’ll have to dig!”
At 2:55 PM — with two builders’ vehicles, the sewage truck, and work in full swing (digging a hole, mixing concrete, sawing something) — the first guest cars arrived.
Veronika, who was running between the house and the yard trying to do makeup and stop the outside chaos simultaneously, froze with mascara wand in hand.
“Svetа,” her voice became strangely quiet and ominous. “What. Are. You. Doing?”
I looked at her with innocent eyes:
“Getting ready for your party, of course! By the way, I have one more surprise for you.”
“What surprise?!” she screamed. “Did you call the fire brigade? Or a circus with bears?!”
“No, no,” I smiled. “Aunt Galya called. She decided to come congratulate you personally. With her husband and dogs.”
“What dogs?!”
“Well, their Rottweilers. The same ones that bit the postman last year. Remember?”
Veronika went pale.
“Aunt Galya… with dogs…” she whispered.
“Yes! Imagine the luck! She rarely comes to the city. But this time she decided to come especially for your birthday. Says she missed her niece!”
The gatebell rang again. Veronika twitched like she’d been shocked.
“That must be her!” I exclaimed happily. “I’ll go meet her!”
It wasn’t Aunt Galya. It was a pest control van. Two men in protective suits and masks were unloading equipment.
Veronika stood behind me, and I could almost physically feel her boiling.
“Svetа,” she hissed. “What. Is. This?”
“Oh,” I waved my hand. “Forgot to mention. We have mice. Or rats. Some kind of rodents. I called to have them exterminated.”
“Today?!”
“Yes. What if your guests see a mouse? Or a rat? That would ruin the whole party!”
One of the exterminators approached us:
“Good afternoon! We’re here by appointment. Where should we treat?”
“Everywhere,” I smiled sweetly. “House, yard, shed. We have a real infestation!”
“Okay,” he nodded. “Then I warn you: no one can stay inside for at least six hours after treatment. And it’s also not recommended to be outside on the property. The chemical is toxic.”
Veronika made a strange sound — something between a sob and a growl.
Then something unexpected even for me happened. A police UAZ vehicle pulled up to the gate.
“Oh!” I said sincerely surprised. “Who’s this?”
It turned out the neighbor — that very Anna Petrovna — had called the police because of “suspicious noise and concentration of equipment.” Sergey Palych (my friend) walked seriously around the property, inspecting everything going on.
“Hmm, hmm, hmm,” he drawled. “Do you have permits for construction? For excavation? A sanitary-epidemiological certificate for disinfection? A contract for sewage services?”
The builders, exterminators, and sewage workers looked at each other.
“We’re just here on call,” one mumbled.
“Understood,” Sergey Palych nodded. “We’ll have to file a report. And suspend the work until further notice.”
At that moment, two more guest cars pulled up. Veronika, who until then had looked stunned, ran toward them:
“No, no, no! Turn around! No birthday party!”
The elegantly dressed people peeked out of the cars confused, holding gifts and flowers.
“No party? What happened?” someone asked.
Veronika turned and looked at me with a look that said she understood everything.
“Svetа,” she said quietly. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?”
I shrugged:
“Oh, sister! Just coincidence. Lots and lots of coincidences in one day. It happens!”
She looked at me silently, then suddenly burst out laughing. Hysterical, loud, to tears.
“You…,” she spat through laughter, “you’re just… incredible!”
Then she turned to her guests:
“Friends! Change of plans! We’re going to the ‘Lesnoy’ restaurant! I booked a table there… just in case.”
An hour later, only I, the bewildered workers, and Sergey Palych (who was laughing while filling out some papers) remained at the summer house.
“Well?” he asked. “Did it work?”
“Better than I expected,” I admitted, pouring him tea on the veranda. “Thanks for your help. And you guys too!” I called to the “builders” and “exterminators” — my friends who agreed to play along.
Only the sewage workers were real — I really had a clog. But they understood the situation and put on quite a dramatic show with digging.
Sergey Palych sipped tea:
“So what now? Is your sister mad?”
I shrugged:
“Probably. But you know… for the first time in her life, she booked a restaurant ‘just in case.’ For the first time, she realized her plan might not work. That’s progress for Veronika.”
“What if now she doesn’t want to talk to you at all?” he asked.
I looked at my quiet, cozy yard — without thirty strangers — and smiled:
“You know, for some reason I’m not afraid of that. Veronika is my sister. She loves dramatic gestures and drama… but she’s not stupid. I hope today she understood one simple thing.”
“What?”
“That every person has boundaries. Even me, her ‘spineless’ older sister. And before planning anything, it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”
Sergey Palych chuckled:
“Wise. So, are we celebrating?” — he nodded at the cake Veronika hastily left in the fridge.
“Of course!” I winked. “I’m celebrating too — Independence Day.”
That evening, while my friends and I finished the cake on the veranda, I got a message from Veronika:
“Wow, you really did it, sis! I’m impressed. I’m angry, but impressed. Talk tomorrow? And… sorry for acting on my own. Won’t do it again.”
I smiled and sent back a photo: a slice of cake with a lit candle and the caption “Happy Birthday to the new Veronika!”
Sometimes surprises can be… very useful. Even if they’re not exactly pleasant surprises.