— No one’s asking you, Zhenya, — said Irina Alekseevna, sitting at the kitchen table in the city apartment. — It isn’t reasonable to cling to that kind of property. A hundred kilometers from the city! Think about it yourself—what’s the point?
Evgeniya set the plate on the table with a bit more force than necessary. The dishes clinked, making Nikolai lift his eyes from his phone.
— Are you two already discussing that house? — he asked, looking from his mother to his wife.
— We’re not discussing it, — Zhenya sat down at the table. — Irina Alekseevna has already decided everything for me.
— For us, — her mother-in-law corrected her. — You’re a family, and decisions have to be made with everyone’s interests in mind. Selling that old house in Osinovka is the most sensible option. With that money you can buy a wonderful plot in “Sosnovy,” right next to mine. We’ll be neighbors, just imagine!
Zhenya could imagine. All too well.
— The house was left to me by Grandpa Stepan, — she said firmly. — And I want to see it first before making any decisions.
— What grandpa? — snorted Irina Alekseevna. — Your grandpa’s second cousin! You last saw him when you were how old? Five?
— Eight, — Zhenya answered quietly. — My parents and I spent the summer with him.
Kolya put down his phone and finally joined the conversation:
— Mom, let’s really go and take a look at the house first. Maybe it’s in such a state that it’ll be easier to tear it down.
— That’s exactly what I’m saying! — picked up Irina Alekseevna. — Why waste time and effort on that wreck? My realtor says the plot has a good value anyway. Even without the house.
Zhenya raised her head.
— You’ve already spoken to a realtor about my inheritance?
For a second, Irina Alekseevna faltered, but quickly pulled herself together.
— Of course! You have to understand the market situation. It’s called prudence.
Zhenya gripped her fork tighter. Ten years of marriage to Nikolai had taught her to pick her battles. This was definitely one to postpone.
— Fine, — she said calmly. — This weekend Kolya and I will go and look at the house. And after that we’ll decide.
— But we had plans for the weekend, — protested Irina Alekseevna. — Kolya promised to help me with the fence at the dacha.
— The fence can wait, Mom, — Nikolai said unexpectedly firmly. — First we’ll sort out Zhenya’s house.
The drive took almost two hours. The last fifteen kilometers they went along a dirt road which, however, proved passable enough even for their small city car.
— The back of beyond, — muttered Nikolai, looking around. — Can you imagine what it’s like here in winter?
Zhenya was silent, peering at the birches and pines drifting past the window. Something stirred in her memory—scraps of childhood recollections.
The village of Osinovka turned out to be unexpectedly large and well-kept. Solid houses lined the main street, many with carved window frames. In some yards they could see new foreign cars.
— Look at that, it’s not nearly as abandoned as I thought, — Kolya was surprised.
They stopped by a shop to ask for directions to Stepan Ivanovich’s house. The shopkeeper, a middle-aged woman, readily gave detailed instructions:
— So you’re the heiress? — she gave Zhenya a curious look. — Stepan Ivanovich talked about you. Said he had a niece in the city, a teacher.
— I teach history at a school, — Zhenya nodded, surprised that the old man knew about her profession.
— His house is good and sturdy, — the shopkeeper continued. — On the riverbank, with a view of the water. A special house. You’ll understand as soon as you see it.
Following the directions, they drove through the whole village and turned onto a side street that sloped down toward the river.
— That one, with the blue shutters, — Zhenya recognized the house unexpectedly, though she hadn’t been there for almost thirty years.
They stopped at the gate. A tall, two-story wooden house with a mezzanine stood on a hill, its facade facing the river. The plot was large—at least two thousand square meters—fenced with a sturdy barrier. It was clear the house had been looked after: the paint on the shutters wasn’t peeling, the roof looked new, the yard was neatly swept.
— Well, I’ll be! — Nikolai whistled. — I expected a ruin, and here…
He didn’t finish. A stocky elderly man was already walking across the yard toward them.
— You here to see Stepan Ivanovich? — he asked as he came closer. — I’m Petrovich, his neighbor. I keep an eye on the place.
— I’m Evgeniya, his grand-niece, — Zhenya introduced herself. — And this is my husband Nikolai.
— Ah, the heiress, — Petrovich nodded. — I’ve been waiting for you to come. Stepan Ivanovich said the house would pass to you. I have the keys; come on, I’ll show you everything.
Inside, the house proved spacious and light. Old but solid furniture, clean floors, nothing neglected. In the large sitting room, photographs hung on the walls, including—Zhenya froze—her school portrait.
— How did he have my photograph? — she whispered.
— He corresponded with your mother, — Petrovich explained. — She sent him photos. Stepan Ivanovich always said you looked like his sister, your great-grandmother.
Zhenya walked to the window. The view was stunning: a wide river, flood meadows on the opposite bank, forest in the distance. Something pinched in her chest—a strange sense of recognition, as if she had come home after a long absence.
— Kolya, it’s… beautiful, — she said quietly.
Nikolai was inspecting the house from a practical perspective.
— Yes, the location is excellent. You definitely don’t get views like this in “Sosnovy,” — he admitted. — But can you imagine how much effort it’ll take to maintain a house like this? And how often can we come out here? Two hours each way isn’t exactly around the corner.
— I don’t know, — Zhenya answered honestly. — But I want to stay here a little longer. May I?
They spent the whole day at the house. Petrovich showed them the outbuildings: the banya, the well, a shed with tools, the vegetable garden, the apple orchard. Everything looked well cared for.
— Stepan Ivanovich did everything himself to the very end, — the neighbor recounted. — And when he really took ill, he hired a helper from the village, Andrei. He came twice a week to help with the place.
Toward evening, when they were getting ready to leave, Petrovich took Zhenya aside.
— There’s a chest with papers up in the attic. Stepan Ivanovich said you must have a look. Some family documents, important ones.
Back in the car on the way home, Nikolai noticed that Zhenya was unusually quiet.
— What are you thinking about? — he asked.
— About the house, — she answered. — Kolya, I don’t want to sell it.
Nikolai sighed.
— Let’s not rush the decision, okay? I’ll tell Mom the house is in good shape, but we need time to think it all over.
Irina Alekseevna received the news without enthusiasm.
— What difference does its condition make? — she fumed when Nikolai told her about the trip. — You still won’t be able to live there full-time. It’s not a weekend dacha. A hundred kilometers, Kolya!
— Mom, the house is really good, — Nikolai tried to explain. — And the place is beautiful.
— Beautiful! — she mimicked. — Is anyone thinking about practicality? Evgeniya is of course off in the clouds, but you should know better.
Zhenya, standing in the kitchen doorway, sighed softly. Her mother-in-law always spoke about her in the third person, even when she was right there.
— Irina Alekseevna, — Zhenya said calmly, — I understand your concerns. But this is my inheritance, and I want to sort everything out myself first. Grandpa left some documents I need to look at.
— Documents! — her mother-in-law threw up her hands. — What documents could a village old man have? Probably electricity bills for the last thirty years! And while you’re “sorting things out,” the best plots in “Sosnovy” will be snapped up. The Vasilievs already bought a lot next to mine, and another family is eyeing one…
Arguing was pointless. Zhenya merely exchanged a glance with her husband and left the kitchen.
The following days at school were especially hectic—end of term, tests, reports. But Zhenya’s thoughts kept drifting back to the house by the river. She decided to take some time off and go to the village alone, while Nikolai had an important project at work and couldn’t get away.
When she told her husband about her plans, he was surprised:
— Alone? What for? Let’s wait for the weekend and go together.
— I need to look at those documents Petrovich mentioned, — Zhenya explained. — And I just want to be there. To think.
Nikolai frowned:
— Mom thinks we’re wasting time. And in a way she’s right. Maintaining a house like that won’t be cheap.
— So you’re leaning toward selling too? — Zhenya asked outright.
— I don’t know, — Nikolai said honestly. — The place is truly wonderful. But we’ve got work, the mortgage. How often can we go? Once a month, at best?
Zhenya said nothing. For some reason his words hurt, even though logically she understood he had a point.
Arriving in Osinovka for the second time, now alone, Zhenya felt a strange relief, as if a heavy load had slipped off her shoulders. Petrovich was pleased to see her:
— Come in, Evgeniya. I warmed up the house this morning, like you asked. The kettle’s on the stove, food’s in the fridge. If you need anything, knock, I’m right next door.
Left on her own, Zhenya went up to the attic first thing. There, just as the neighbor had said, stood an old wrought-iron chest. Inside lay neatly arranged folders of papers, old photographs, letters.
She spent the next few hours immersed in her family’s history. From the documents she learned that the house had been built by her great-grandfather, Ivan Stepanovich, at the beginning of the last century. They were a well-to-do peasant family who miraculously avoided dekulakization because the great-grandfather died young, and his wife was left with five children.
Among the papers Zhenya found an old map of the area, where her great-grandfather’s hand had marked a spot on the property with the note “spring.” Next to the map lay a letter addressed to the heirs:
“Dear descendants! If you are reading this letter, it means the house has passed to you. I built it not just as a dwelling, but as a family nest where members of our family could always find shelter. The place was not chosen by chance—here, on our land, there is a special gift: a spring of the purest water that never dries up even in the worst drought. This water has healing properties. Protect this place and do not give it to outsiders. Ivan Kuznetsov.”
Attached to the letter were water tests done in Soviet times, confirming a high mineral content and an unusual composition.
Zhenya sat, stunned. So that was why Grandpa Stepan wanted the house to stay in the family. He had guarded this secret and now passed it on to her.
In the evening, stepping out into the yard for fresh air, Zhenya saw a man approaching. He was around forty, solidly built, with an open face.
— Hello, — he greeted her. — You must be Evgeniya? I’m Andrei; I helped your grandpa around the place.
— Nice to meet you, — Zhenya smiled. — Petrovich told me about you.
— How do you like the house? — Andrei asked. — Stepan Ivanovich really hoped you’d keep it.
— The house is wonderful, — Zhenya said sincerely. — I only learned its history today. And about the spring…
Andrei looked at her closely:
— So you found the documents. Stepan Ivanovich said he left you a letter. That spring is a real treasure. The water truly is special.
— You knew?
— Of course. I helped Stepan Ivanovich clean the well every year. He told me the story. You know, — Andrei lowered his voice, — many people wanted to buy this plot. Especially persistent was Valery Sergeevich, he has an agribusiness nearby. He offered a lot of money.
— And grandpa refused to sell? — Zhenya guessed.
— Flat out, — Andrei nodded. — Said the house had to stay in the family. Valery Sergeevich was angry, but there was nothing he could do. Now he’ll probably try to make a deal with you.
Later, lying in the old but surprisingly comfortable bed, Zhenya called Nikolai.
— Everything’s fine, don’t worry, — she said. — The house is warm, the neighbors are wonderful. And you know, Kolya, I found amazing documents. Turns out my great-grandfather built this house, and it’s been passed down through the generations.
— Really? — Nikolai sounded surprised. — And you never told me.
— I didn’t know myself. My parents didn’t talk much about family history, — Zhenya explained. — And there’s a mineral spring on the property. Can you imagine? With healing water!
— A spring? — Nikolai was clearly intrigued. — That’s interesting. Are there any documents for it?
— Yes, grandpa saved everything, even the water analyses.
— Don’t tell anyone about it yet, okay? — Nikolai asked unexpectedly. — Especially not Mom. I’ll come on the weekend; we’ll figure it all out together.
Drifting off, Zhenya thought that for the first time in a long while she felt truly in the right place. In this old house with creaking floorboards and the smell of apples, which held her family’s history, there was something so dear, something she had never felt in the city apartment.
The next morning Zhenya woke to a knock at the door. On the threshold stood an elderly woman with neatly styled gray hair.
— Good morning! I’m Maria Pavlovna, I live across the road, — she introduced herself. — I came to meet the new mistress. Stepan Ivanovich was a good neighbor and friend.
Zhenya invited the guest inside. Over tea, Maria Pavlovna said she’d worked her whole life as a teacher at the local school.
— I’m retired now, but I still substitute sometimes. We’re always short of teachers, — she smiled. — Stepan said you teach as well?
— Yes, history at a city school, — Zhenya nodded.
— How wonderful! — Maria brightened. — You know, our school isn’t so bad. Not like in the city, of course, but the children are capable.
They talked for several hours. Maria Pavlovna turned out to be a true keeper of the village’s history. She told Zhenya many stories about local residents, including her grandpa.
— Stepan Ivanovich was a respected man. People often came to him for advice. And you know, he was very proud of you. He showed your photos, talked about how you studied at university and then started working.
— But we hardly communicated, — Zhenya was surprised. — I last visited him as a child.
— He kept in touch with your mother. She wrote to him, told him about you. And when your parents… passed, he took it very hard. He wanted to come to you, but then decided not to reopen the wounds. Still, he always kept an eye on your life from afar.
Zhenya’s eyes stung. She remembered how a void had opened in her life after her parents’ death. She was eighteen, just entering university. And all these years, somewhere here, in this village, lived a man who thought of her, worried about her.
— He never doubted he would leave the house to you, — Maria went on. — He said, “Zhenya will understand the value of this place.” You’re not going to sell the house, are you?
— No, — Zhenya answered firmly. — I’m not.
After Maria left, Zhenya decided to explore the grounds. With the old map in hand, she tried to determine where the spring was. Judging by the markings, it should be in the far corner of the garden, beyond the apple trees.
There she indeed found an old well covered with a wooden lid. Zhenya carefully pushed it aside and looked in. The well was shallow, three meters at most. At the bottom gleamed the clearest water.
— Found it? — a voice sounded behind her. She turned to see Andrei.
— Yes, — she nodded. — This is the spring?
— That’s it, — Andrei confirmed. — Want to taste the water? I have a bucket and rope in the shed.
The water turned out to be extraordinarily tasty—cool, with a light mineral tang.
— Amazing, — Zhenya whispered, sipping from the mug.
— Locals have been coming here for water for many years, — Andrei said. — Stepan Ivanovich never turned anyone away. They say it helps with many ailments.
— So that’s why Valery Sergeevich wanted to buy the plot, — Zhenya guessed.
— Of course, — Andrei nodded. — He plans to set up a bottling operation. He got wind of the spring and hasn’t left us in peace since. And, by the way, here he is himself.
A black SUV pulled up to the gate. A well-dressed man in an expensive suit got out.
— Good afternoon, — he greeted them, walking into the yard. — You must be Evgeniya? I’m Valery Sergeevich Krasnov, owner of the agribusiness “Osinovskie Polya.” I wanted to meet the new owner in person.
Zhenya invited the guest into the house. Valery carried himself confidently and spoke smoothly:
— I completely understand your attachment to this place. Family history, memories… But allow me to be frank. Maintaining a house like this doesn’t come cheap. And the distance from the city makes it inconvenient for frequent trips.
— I’ll manage, — Zhenya replied calmly.
— I don’t doubt it, — Valery smiled. — Even so, let me make you an offer. I’m ready to buy this plot for a very good sum. I think it would allow you to buy a lovely house much closer to the city.
— Thank you for the offer, — Zhenya tried to be polite but firm. — But I don’t plan to sell the house.
— Don’t be hasty, — Valery took out a business card. — Think it over carefully. Here are my contacts. I’m open to discussing the price.
When he left, Andrei shook his head:
— He won’t let up. He never left Stepan Ivanovich alone.
— We’ll see, — Zhenya said. — In any case, I won’t sell.
That evening Nikolai called:
— How are you there? Everything okay?
— Yes, — Zhenya answered. — I really like it here, Kolya. And you know, that local businessman, Valery Sergeevich, came by. He wants to buy the house. Offers big money.
— Really? — there was a note of interest in Nikolai’s voice. — How much is he willing to pay?
— We didn’t discuss a specific amount, — Zhenya replied. — I immediately said I wasn’t going to sell.
— Zhenya, maybe you shouldn’t refuse right away? — Nikolai suggested cautiously. — Let’s at least find out the price.
Zhenya felt her heart tighten:
— So you think we should sell the house too?
— I’m not saying “we should,” — irritation crept into Nikolai’s voice. — I’m saying we should consider all options. It’s just common sense.
The call ended on a tense note. Zhenya tossed and turned for a long time, thinking that her husband seemed to have already made up his mind. And his decision didn’t match hers.
On Zhenya’s third day in the village, something unexpected happened. A familiar car pulled up—Nikolai arrived not alone, but with his mother.
— Surprise! — said Irina Alekseevna with a strained smile as she walked into the house. — I decided to see this inheritance with my own eyes.
Zhenya looked at her husband in surprise. He shrugged apologetically:
— Mom really wanted to come. She said she needed to form her own opinion.
— Of course, — Zhenya answered coolly. — Come in, make yourselves at home.
With a critical air, Irina Alekseevna inspected the house:
— The furniture is old… The floors need replacing… And the heating is by stove? My goodness, how are you going to live here in winter?
— No one’s talking about living here full-time, — Zhenya replied wearily. — But in summer and on weekends it’s perfectly fine to come.
— A hundred kilometers? — her mother-in-law said skeptically. — Kolya works six days a week. When will he come here? And the gas? And the maintenance costs?
Zhenya was about to respond, but at that moment there was a knock on the door. On the threshold stood Valery Sergeevich.
— Good afternoon, — he smiled. — I hope I’m not intruding? I wanted to see whether you’ve changed your mind.
To Zhenya’s surprise, Irina Alekseevna greeted him like an old acquaintance:
— Valery Sergeevich! What a surprise!
— Irina Alekseevna? — he looked equally surprised. — You here? What a coincidence!
— You know each other? — Zhenya looked from one to the other.
— Of course, — said Irina, clearly pleased. — We met at a gardening exhibition last year. He’s a great specialist in fruit and berry crops.
— I didn’t expect to see you here, — the businessman quickly recovered. — What brings you?
— This is my son, Nikolai, — Irina introduced. — And Evgeniya is his wife.
— I see! — Valery raised his eyebrows. — So you’re relatives! All the better then. We can discuss the matter as a family.
Zhenya tensed:
— What is that supposed to mean?
Irina cast a quick glance at Valery, then at her son:
— Kolya, shall we go and look over the plot? I’ve long wanted to see what has so enchanted little Zhenya.
When they went out, Zhenya turned to the businessman:
— You didn’t answer my question.
Valery smiled:
— You see, Evgeniya, I’ve already had the pleasure of discussing the purchase of this plot with your mother-in-law. She believes selling is the most reasonable decision.
— My mother-in-law discussed the sale of my house with you? — Zhenya couldn’t believe her ears.
— Well, she said it was a family decision, — he shrugged. — And that you’d certainly agree once you heard the sum.
— What sum? — Zhenya felt her hands grow cold.
Valery named a figure that took Zhenya’s breath away. For that kind of money you really could buy an excellent house closer to the city.
— As you can see, the offer is more than generous, — he added.
— The offer is generous, but the house is not for sale, — Zhenya answered firmly.
Valery’s expression changed:
— Listen, I’m a patient man, but there are limits. I waited for years for the old man to come to his senses. Now that you’ve appeared, I hoped for a more constructive dialogue. Especially considering your mother-in-law has already accepted a deposit.
Zhenya felt the room spin:
— A deposit?
— Yes, a small sum as a sign of serious intent, — he waved a hand casually. — Irina Alekseevna promised she’d persuade you.
At that moment the door opened and Nikolai and his mother came back in.
— Is there anything you’d like to explain to me? — Zhenya asked quietly, looking at her mother-in-law.
Irina drew herself up:
— Yes, we discussed the sale with Valery Sergeevich. So what? I acted in the interests of my son and his family.
— By taking a deposit on someone else’s property? — Zhenya tried to keep her voice even.
— Mom? — Nikolai looked bewildered. — What deposit?
Irina hesitated for a moment, but quickly composed herself:
— It’s not much of a deposit. Valery Sergeevich simply wanted to demonstrate the seriousness of his intentions. I planned to tell you when you’d made the final decision to sell.
— But there was no decision! — Nikolai exclaimed. — We haven’t even properly discussed it.
— Don’t pretend, Kolya, — Irina said irritably. — You yourself said maintaining a house like this isn’t rational. That you’d hardly ever come here. I simply sped up the process!
Zhenya turned to her husband:
— Is it true? You’ve already decided the house should be sold?
Nikolai looked taken aback:
— I… I thought we needed to seriously consider everything. The distance, the costs…
— So yes, — Zhenya said quietly. — You decided without asking me.
— Zhenya, be reasonable, — Irina intervened. — Valery Sergeevich is offering a huge sum! You’ll be able to buy a wonderful house in “Sosnovy,” right next to us. We’ll be neighbors, spend weekends together…
— I don’t want to be your neighbor, — Zhenya cut her off. — And I won’t sell this house.
— That’s irresponsible! — her mother-in-law raised her voice. — Kolya, tell her!
But Nikolai was silent, looking from his mother to his wife.
— I need my deposit back, — Valery insisted. — If the deal falls through, I demand my money back.
— That’s your problem, — Zhenya replied. — You gave money to a person who had no right to negotiate a sale. And now, please, leave my house.
Valery frowned:
— I don’t think this is our last conversation.
When he left, a heavy silence fell over the house.
— How much did he give you? — Nikolai asked his mother.
Irina named the sum.
— And where is that money now?
— I… I’ve already put down a down payment on a plot in “Sosnovy,” — she admitted. — Next to mine.
Nikolai covered his face with his hands:
— Mom, how could you? Without our consent?
— I was sure you’d make the right decision! — Irina exclaimed. — Evgeniya, listen, I understand your feelings. But it’s just an old house! And we’re offering you a new, modern one, close to family!
— It’s not just an old house, — Zhenya said quietly. — Generations of my family lived here. My great-grandfather built it with his own hands. My grandpa Stepan kept it despite all hardships. He believed I would understand the value of this place. And I do.
— What about me? — Nikolai asked. — Does my opinion matter?
Zhenya looked at her husband:
— Of course it does. But you have to decide for yourself what matters more—my happiness or your mother’s approval.
The next day passed in tense silence. Irina walked around looking offended, Nikolai was pensive, and Zhenya spent time in the garden, avoiding confrontations.
In the evening, Maria Pavlovna stopped by. She immediately sensed the strained atmosphere but tactfully didn’t ask questions. Instead, she brought old photographs of the village and Zhenya’s great-grandfather’s house.
— Here, I found these in my archives, — she said, spreading the pictures out on the table. — Look what the house was like in the 1930s. And here is your great-grandfather with his family on the porch.
Zhenya studied the photos with excitement. In one of them stood a tall man with a full beard, beside him a woman in a light dress and five children of different ages.
— And this is your great-grandmother Anna, — Maria pointed to the woman. — They say you resemble her very much.
— Really? — Zhenya peered at her great-grandmother’s face.
— Incredibly so, — Maria confirmed. — The same look in the eyes, the same line of the chin. Even Stepan Ivanovich always said so.
Nikolai came over to look too:
— She really does look like her, — he admitted, glancing from the photo to his wife.
— And here, — Maria continued, — a village festival, early 1950s. See how the whole yard is full of people? Your house often hosted the villagers. And in this photo you can just make out the place where the spring is.
Until that moment, Irina had ostentatiously refused to join the conversation, but now she pricked up her ears:
— What spring?
— A mineral one, — Maria replied. — There’s a well with healing water on the property. Locals still come for it.
— Healing? — Irina shot a quick look at Nikolai. — And how long has it been there?
— Since time immemorial, — Maria smiled. — Zhenya’s great-grandfather discovered it while building the house. They say he chose the place specifically because of the spring.
After the guest left, Irina approached Zhenya:
— Why didn’t you say anything about the spring?
— Because you would have told Valery Sergeevich, — Zhenya retorted.
— But this… this changes everything! — her mother-in-law exclaimed. — If there’s a mineral spring on the plot, its value increases many times over!
— Its value to me isn’t measured in money, — Zhenya answered softly.
— Kolya, tell her! — Irina turned to her son. — This is real wealth! We could negotiate a much higher sum with Valery!
Nikolai was silent, gazing out the window. Then he said unexpectedly:
— Mom, I want to talk to Zhenya alone. Could you give us a moment?
Irina huffed but left the room. When the door closed behind her, Nikolai turned to his wife:
— You really don’t want to sell the house?
— No, — Zhenya replied firmly. — I feel it should stay in the family.
Nikolai nodded:
— You know, I’ve been thinking all day. My whole life I’ve let Mom decide for me. Where to apply, where to work, how to live. Even our apartment—she chose it. I always thought that was right, that she wanted what’s best for me.
— She does, — Zhenya said gently. — She truly wants the best for you. It’s just that her idea of “best” doesn’t always match ours.
— Yours, — he corrected. — And I… I didn’t know what I wanted myself until I came here. But now, having seen this house and learned your family’s story… I think this place is special. And if it’s important to you, then it should be important to me.
Tears welled in Zhenya’s eyes:
— Really?
— Really, — Nikolai took her hand. — I want us to keep this house. We’ll come here on weekends, spend our vacations. Maybe someday we’ll even move here for good.
— What about your mother? — Zhenya asked. — And the deposit?
— I’ll talk to Mom, — Nikolai said firmly. — And the deposit… she’ll have to sort that out with Valery herself. It was her initiative, not ours.
The next morning, when they were all gathered for breakfast, Nikolai announced:
— Mom, Zhenya and I have decided. The house stays with us. We’re not going to sell it.
Irina turned pale:
— But how… What about the plot in “Sosnovy”? And the deposit?
— That’s your problem, — for the first time in his life Nikolai spoke to his mother in that tone. — You acted without our consent. You’ll have to figure out how to get out of this.
— You’re choosing her over your own mother? — Irina exclaimed dramatically.
— I’m choosing my family, — Nikolai replied calmly. — Zhenya is my wife. And if this house is important to her, then it’s important to me.
Irina tried to argue, but for the first time her words had no effect on her son. After breakfast she demonstratively packed her things and announced she was taking the bus back to the city.
— Want me to drive you? — Nikolai offered.
— I’ll manage, — she snapped. — I don’t want to be a burden.
When the door closed behind his mother, Zhenya hugged her husband:
— Thank you. I know how hard it is for you to stand up to her.
— Not as hard as I thought, — Nikolai smiled. — Turns out all I had to do was finally grow up.
A year passed. The house by the river was transformed. Zhenya and Nikolai came every weekend, gradually updating the interior, repairing the roof, and tending the garden.
They cleared and improved the spring, building a beautiful gazebo over it. As before, locals came for water, and Zhenya never turned anyone away.
Valery tried several more times to negotiate a purchase, but eventually gave up. Instead, he proposed a business partnership—bottling mineral water from the plot under a joint brand. Zhenya promised to think about the proposal.
Relations with Irina remained strained for a long time. She almost didn’t speak to her daughter-in-law and cooled noticeably toward her son. But slowly the ice began to melt.
One day in mid-summer she unexpectedly came to Osinovka. Zhenya and Nikolai were just finishing work on the veranda.
— I decided to see what you’ve done with the house, — Irina said, trying to sound casual.
Zhenya showed her the changes—repaired roof, new wiring, a cleared garden.
— Not bad, — her mother-in-law was forced to admit. — Actually, very good.
At lunch on the veranda, Irina tasted the spring water:
— It really is delicious, — she said in surprise. — You can actually taste the minerals.
— The local paramedic says it’s good for the joints, — Zhenya noted. — Many elderly people in the village come for it specially.
Irina looked at Zhenya thoughtfully:
— You were right not to sell the house. I didn’t understand it then, but now I see—this is a special place.
— Thank you, — Zhenya replied simply.
— By the way, Valery returned my deposit, — Irina added. — He said he respects your decision and hopes for cooperation in the future.
After lunch, when Nikolai went to help Petrovich fix a fence, Irina said unexpectedly:
— I always wanted the best for Kolya. And I thought I knew what that was.
— I understand, — Zhenya nodded.
— But looking at you now, at how happy you both are here… Maybe sometimes it’s better to let people decide for themselves what’s good for them.
That evening the three of them sat on the veranda, watching the sun set over the river. In the distance the village could be seen, smoke rising over rooftops, the air smelling of cut grass and apples.
— Now I understand why you didn’t want to sell, — Irina said quietly. — It really is lovely here.
— Yes, — Zhenya smiled, looking at the house that was now truly hers. — It’s lovely here.
Nikolai took his wife’s hand:
— The house is ours now, and I’m glad we kept it.
— Yes, the house is mine now, but I won’t sell it, — Zhenya repeated the words she had once said to her mother-in-law. — And I hope that someday it will become as dear to our children as it was to my ancestors.
Irina suddenly smiled:
— To my grandchildren, you mean? Well, perhaps it isn’t so bad to have a grandmother’s house in the village. The main thing is that it stays in the family.
Zhenya nodded. The house would stand. And be filled again with children’s voices, with laughter, with life. Just as her great-grandfather dreamed when he built it with his own hands. Just as her grandpa Stepan wanted when he left this inheritance to her.
As it should be.