Marina ran her hand along the freshly painted fence and smiled. The white paint had gone on smoothly, without dripping, and now the whole property looked completely different—not like an abandoned granny’s dacha, but like a real vacation home.
“Alyosh, look how nice it turned out!” she called to her husband, who was working on the new metal roof of the shed.
Aleksei climbed down the ladder, wiped the sweat from his forehead, and looked around. In just two months of hard work, the place had become unrecognizable. The old house had been re-sided, the roof replaced, all the outbuildings painted. Marina had planted new flower beds, added roses and peonies, and tidied up the vegetable garden. They had even paved the walkways with tiles.
“Yeah, it looks great,” he agreed, wrapping his arm around her. “Grandma would’ve been proud.”
They stood in the middle of their little paradise, breathing in the scent of fresh paint and blooming apple trees. All the weekends spent making repairs, all the arguments in hardware stores, the blisters on their hands—it had all been worth it. Now they had a place they actually wanted to go to.
“We should celebrate,” Marina suggested. “Let’s get some champagne, make a salad…”
“Sure. But first I need a shower—I’m covered in dust.”
But they never got the chance to celebrate the opening of their new home. Just as they arrived and were unloading the groceries, Viktor, Aleksei’s brother, pulled into the yard in his old Zhiguli.
“Hey, little brother!” Viktor got out of the car and looked around. “You built yourself a whole palace here! Irka, check this out!”
Irina, Viktor’s wife, gave the place a critical once-over.
“Not bad,” she conceded with a condescending tone. “Though the siding color is questionable. And the porch is a bit small. But overall… it’s okay.”
Their teenage kids got out and immediately made a beeline for the swings Aleksei had just installed.
“We’re here for a barbecue!” Viktor announced cheerfully. “The weather’s great, it’s the weekend… We figured we’d relax a bit.”
Marina glanced at her husband, confused. They had planned to work quietly in the garden and then spend the evening alone in the new gazebo.
“But we weren’t expecting guests,” she began.
“Come on, what’s there to prepare?” Viktor waved it off. “We’ll grill some meat and have a good time. By the way, where’s the grill?”
“We don’t have one yet,” Aleksei admitted.
“No grill?!” Irina was indignant. “You’ve got a dacha like this and no grill? That’s the foundation of dacha relaxation!”
“We were planning to buy one, but we spent everything on the renovations…”
“That’s easy to fix!” Irina insisted. “What kind of dacha doesn’t have a grill? That should’ve been your first purchase.”
Viktor scanned the yard with the eye of an expert, mentally noting the best spot for a grill.
“There—under the apple tree. Perfect. You should build a permanent brick one. But for now, let’s just go buy a disposable one.”
“We didn’t budget for a grill,” Marina tried to object.
“Oh, don’t be stingy! You built a whole dacha and now you’re reluctant to buy a grill?”
In the end, Aleksei went to the hardware store to buy a portable grill, charcoal, and a rack. Marina stayed behind to entertain the guests and prepare snacks with what they had just bought.
“Where’s the meat?” Viktor asked when Aleksei returned.
“What meat?”
“For the barbecue! We came to grill!”
“Well, you didn’t say… We didn’t buy any meat.”
“Ah, come on, guys!” Viktor shook his head. “You don’t know how to host guests. All right, let’s all go to the butcher’s.”
The day passed in a whirlwind of errands and noise. Aleksei bought three kilos of pork, they marinated it, and cut vegetables for a salad. Marina spent the whole day in the kitchen preparing treats. By evening, the guests finally left, leaving behind a mountain of dirty dishes and an empty fridge.
“Funny,” Marina said wearily as she cleared the table. “They came here to relax, but we ended up doing all the work.”
“Come on, they’re family,” Aleksei tried to excuse his brother, though he didn’t sound very convinced himself.
Two weeks later, Viktor and his family came back—this time with a warning.
“We’re coming tomorrow,” he said over the phone. “Get about three kilos of meat and fresh vegetables. And the tomatoes need to be sweet, not those sour supermarket ones. We’ll bring baby potatoes, roasted in their skins.”
“Viktor, maybe everyone should bring their own meat?” Aleksei ventured timidly.
“What? No way! We’re guests! The hosts are supposed to provide something. That’s how hospitality works.”
Marina grabbed the phone from her husband.
“Listen, Viktor—when are you planning to bring a housewarming gift? We’ve been living here for two months already.”
“What gift? We’re bringing potatoes! Do you know how much baby potatoes cost these days? That’s a serious gift!”
After that call, Marina was in a sour mood all week. On Saturday, she got up early, went to the market, and bought proper groceries…
