The call came on Saturday morning when Yulia was still lying in bed with a cup of coffee. The screen showed the name of her mother-in-law — Valentina Petrovna. Usually, that didn’t bode well.
“Yulechka, dear,” came the syrupy sweet voice, “how are you? How’s your mood?”
“Fine,” Yulia answered cautiously. When her mother-in-law started with compliments, it meant she was up to something.
“Listen, I have a favor to ask,” Valentina Petrovna continued. “You know how hard the breakup with Petr Nikolaevich has been for me. My nerves are completely shaken. The doctor says I need rest, fresh air.”
Petr Nikolaevich was her husband, who had filed for divorce a month ago. Since then, Valentina Petrovna had been calling all the relatives, complaining about fate and asking for sympathy.
“Yes, I understand,” Yulia nodded, although her mother-in-law couldn’t see it.
“So I was thinking, what if I come to your summer house for a week? To breathe fresh air, drink some herbs. I promise I won’t bother anyone. Just have some tea with Lidochka on the terrace.”
Lidochka was her mother-in-law’s friend, an equally energetic retiree. Together they made a volatile mix.
“Valentina Petrovna,” Yulia began, “the summer house isn’t prepared for the season. It needs cleaning, the water needs to be turned on…”
“Oh, cleaning!” the mother-in-law waved her hand dismissively. “We’re not princesses. We’ll put everything in order ourselves. Even better than before.”
Yulia was silent, thinking over the request. The summer house was inherited from Yulia’s grandmother — a small house with a garden plot in a gardening community. The family usually went there on weekends in summer, but this year they hadn’t been yet — too much work.
“Mom, let me think about it,” Yulia said.
“What is there to think about?” her mother-in-law’s voice grew more insistent. “The house is empty anyway. And I feel so bad, Yulechka. I can’t even sleep properly.”
Her husband interrupted the conversation. Dmitry took the phone from his wife.
“Mom, of course, go,” he said without hesitation. “Rest properly. Yulia is just worried about the order, but you’re tidy.”
“Thank you, son,” Valentina Petrovna beamed. “I’m so grateful! I’ll go tomorrow.”
After the call, Yulia looked at her husband in bewilderment.
“Dima, do you realize what happens when your mom and her friends get together?”
“What could possibly happen?” Dmitry shrugged. “Two old ladies at the summer house. They’ll drink tea, dig in the garden.”
“Your mom in the garden?” Yulia smiled. “She wouldn’t scratch the ground with her fingernail.”
“Yul, don’t exaggerate,” her husband waved it off. “Let her rest. She’s going through a tough time now.”
The next day, Valentina Petrovna really went to the summer house. But not alone with Lidochka, as promised. She also brought another friend — Raisa Stepanovna, a woman about sixty-five with a loud voice and a habit of bossing everyone around.
Yulia found out by chance when the neighbor Elena Viktorovna called that same evening.
“Yulia, is there a party over there?” the neighbor asked puzzled. “Music is blasting, laughter, some unfamiliar voices.”
“What party?” Yulia didn’t understand. “My mother-in-law is just resting there with her friend.”
“With a friend?” Elena Viktorovna was surprised. “I hear about five women’s voices. And the music… well, it’s not exactly garden-party style.”
Yulia frowned. She called her mother-in-law, but there was no answer. Only an hour later did Valentina Petrovna call back, cheerful, with laughter and music in the background.
“Yulechka!” Valentina Petrovna joyfully shouted. “How are you? Everything’s wonderful here!”
“Valentina Petrovna, neighbors say the music is very loud,” Yulia said.
“Oh, come on!” the mother-in-law was surprised. “We’re quiet, soulful. Just in a good mood, so we sing a little.”
“And how many of you are there?”
“How many? I told you — I came with Lidochka.”
“And Raisa Stepanovna?”
“Oh, Raechka?” Valentina Petrovna laughed. “Yes, she came too. Missed the outdoors. You don’t mind, do you?”
Yulia sighed. Arguing was pointless — her mother-in-law had already decided everything.
“Just keep it quieter, please,” Yulia asked. “Neighbors complain.”
“Of course, of course,” Valentina Petrovna assured. “We are cultured people.”
But the music didn’t stop. On the second day, Elena Viktorovna called again, now irritated.
“Yulia, they’ve completely lost it,” the neighbor said. “They screamed until one a.m., the dogs went crazy barking. And this morning they lit a barbecue at six-thirty! Smoke right into my windows.”
“Sorry, Elena Viktorovna,” Yulia said apologetically. “I’ll talk to them.”
But Valentina Petrovna didn’t answer the calls again. Only in the evening, when Yulia had called for the tenth time, did she reply.
“Mom, what’s going on there?” Yulia couldn’t hold back. “Neighbors say you’ve organized some festival.”
“Oh, Yulenka,” laughed her mother-in-law. “We’re just having a good rest. You know how good it is for the soul! After all this divorce drama.”
“But the neighbors complain about the noise.”
“Neighbors always complain,” Valentina Petrovna waved it off. “They have no life, so they envy our fun.”
On the third day, not only Elena Viktorovna called but also the chairman of the gardening community, Ivan Semenovich.
“Yulia Sergeyevna,” the chairman said sternly, “I have five complaints about your tenants. Noise at night, violation of fire safety rules, spilling soapy water on the common area.”
“Spilling?” Yulia didn’t understand.
“They wash their car right by the gate,” Ivan Semenovich explained. “Water with shampoo flows onto the road. Also, they burn trash in unauthorized places.”
“Ivan Semenovich, sorry,” Yulia sighed. “I’ll call them right away.”
“Call,” the chairman nodded. “Otherwise, I’ll have to write an official warning.”
Yulia again tried to reach her mother-in-law. This time Valentina Petrovna answered almost immediately but spoke in a whisper.
“Yulia? What’s wrong?”
“Mom, the chairman called me,” Yulia began. “He says you…”
“Shhh,” interrupted Valentina Petrovna. “The girls are sleeping. We are so tired today — spent all day outdoors.”
“What girls?” Yulia was surprised. “How many of you are there?”
“Oh, just a few,” Valentina Petrovna answered evasively. “The friends came for a short visit. They’ll leave tomorrow.”
But on the fourth day, the calls increased. Now neighbors from all around were complaining. Someone broke the fence between plots, someone trampled flower beds, and someone lost their garden watering can.
“Valentina Petrovna,” Yulia called again, “what’s going on? The whole village is calling me!”
“Nothing special,” her mother-in-law answered cheerfully. “The girls just relaxed a bit. You know how it is — friends gathered, reminisced about youth.”
“How many friends?”
“Well… five or six,” admitted Valentina Petrovna. “But all good ones! And they only came for a short visit.”
“Five or six?” Yulia gasped. “You said you came with just Lidochka!”
“Well, that’s how it happened,” her mother-in-law justified. “I told the girls how wonderful your summer house is, so they wanted to see it.”
“Mom, are you resting there or running a camp?”
“Yulechka, don’t get nervous,” Valentina Petrovna reassured. “Everything’s under control. We’ll leave in a couple of days.”
A couple of days turned into a week. Every day brought new complaints. Either music until morning, or a fire in a forbidden place, or someone’s car blocking the driveway.
Finally, on Sunday morning, Valentina Petrovna called herself.
“Yulenka, we’re leaving,” the mother-in-law reported cheerfully. “Thank you so much for your hospitality! We had such a wonderful rest!”
“When are you leaving?” Yulia asked with relief.
“We’re packing now. Afraid it might rain.”
Indeed, the day was gloomy, the sky covered with clouds.
“Will you clean up after yourselves?” Yulia asked.
“What to clean?” Valentina Petrovna was surprised. “We’re neat. We leave everything as it was.”
A week later, when the rainy weather changed to sunny, Yulia decided to visit the summer house herself. To see what condition the house was in after a week of her mother-in-law and friends’ stay.
What Yulia saw shocked her. The plot looked like an open-air festival had taken place. Plastic bottles, bags, disposable dishes scattered everywhere. The grass around the house was trampled and burnt in places — apparently from campfire sparks.
The plastic garden furniture was broken — chair legs were torn off, the table cracked in the middle. Wine stains and cigarette burns decorated the terrace.
Inside, the scene was no better. The kitchen was covered with greasy stains, dirty dishes were piled in the sink. The stove had dried food leftovers. The refrigerator was full of scraps; some products were rotten and smelled bad.
In the bedrooms, the bedding was crumpled and stained. Rags, empty bottles, and cigarette butts lay on the floor.
But the worst awaited Yulia in the bathroom. The toilet was clogged, water on the floor, and the smell was so bad she had to step outside for fresh air.
While Yulia walked through the house estimating the scale of the mess, Ivan Semenovich approached the gate.
“Well, Yulia Sergeyevna,” said the chairman shaking his head, “admire the results?”
“Ivan Semenovich, sorry,” Yulia said guiltily. “I didn’t expect this.”
“We didn’t expect it either,” the chairman sighed. “I have an official complaint from the residents. Disturbance of public order, damage to common property, unauthorized garbage dumping.”
He handed Yulia a paper stamped by the community.
“What’s this?” Yulia asked, scanning the text.
“A warning,” Ivan Semenovich explained. “Next time there will be a fine. And if repeated, expulsion from the community is possible.”
Yulia pressed her lips, feeling indignation boiling inside. The so-called week of rest by her mother-in-law had turned into a total nightmare.
“Thank you, Ivan Semenovich,” Yulia said, accepting the official warning. “I will settle everything.”
“I hope so,” nodded the chairman. “Otherwise, the summer residents threaten to write a collective complaint.”
After Ivan Semenovich left, Yulia took out her phone and began methodically photographing the whole plot. Every stain on the terrace, every broken chair, the trampled grass, the trash under the bushes. Then she entered the house and continued shooting — the dirty kitchen, clogged toilet, stained bedding.
After the photo session, Yulia made a detailed damage estimate. Dry cleaning of sofa and armchairs — five thousand rubles. New plastic furniture to replace broken — eight thousand. Fence repair, broken by her mother-in-law’s guests — three thousand. Professional house cleaning — four thousand. Electrician call to replace burnt-out socket — one and a half thousand.
Total came to twenty-one and a half thousand rubles. A sizable but fair amount. Yulia carefully recalculated everything and even found online prices to confirm the adequacy of the costs.
She returned home late in the evening, tired and angry. Dmitry met his wife in the hallway.
“So how’s the summer house?” he asked. “Mom said you cleaned up after them.”
“Look,” Yulia silently handed him the phone with the photos.
Dmitry scrolled through the shots, his face gradually falling.
“Is this our house?” the husband asked again.
“Our house,” Yulia confirmed. “After your mom’s week-long rest with her friends.”
“How could this happen…” Dmitry shook his head. “Mom said they were sitting quietly drinking tea.”
“Apparently, very actively drinking tea,” Yulia dryly remarked.
The next day Yulia called Valentina Petrovna. She tried to keep her voice calm and friendly.
“Good afternoon, Valentina Petrovna,” Yulia greeted. “How are you? How was the rest?”
“Yulechka!” the mother-in-law rejoiced. “Thank you again! We had such a wonderful time! The girls still remember it.”
“I can imagine,” Yulia nodded. “Listen, I wanted to invite you over. For tea. To talk a little.”
“Of course, I’ll come!” Valentina Petrovna agreed.
“Great. I’ll wait for you in an hour.”
Yulia took out a printed estimate with photos. Valentina Petrovna lived in a two-room apartment downtown. She arrived quickly.
“Dear,” the mother-in-law fussed, “tell me how things are. I bet you missed our gatherings.”
“I did,” Yulia agreed, sitting at the table. “Valentina Petrovna, I was at the summer house yesterday.”
“Oh?” her mother-in-law sat down to drink tea. “How is it there? We cleaned everything before leaving.”
“Yes, I saw the cleaning results,” Yulia nodded. “Very thorough.”
“Of course!” Valentina Petrovna said proudly. “We are cultured people. We know how to behave as guests.”
“Certainly,” Yulia agreed and pulled out a folder with documents. “I have a little talk with you.”
“About what?” Valentina Petrovna sipped her tea and looked attentively at her daughter-in-law.
“About how much a week of rest costs,” Yulia said and put a printed estimate on the table.
Her mother-in-law took the sheet and scanned the lines. Her face slowly changed expression.
“What is this?” Valentina Petrovna asked confused.
“A bill for repairs and restoration of the summer house after your stay,” Yulia calmly explained. “With photos for clarity.”
“What bill?” her mother-in-law’s voice got higher. “Are you crazy? Charging relatives!”
“Relatives don’t usually turn someone else’s house into ruins,” Yulia objected. “Look at the photos carefully.”
Valentina Petrovna flipped through the shots, muttering something under her breath.
“Well, some trash,” finally said the mother-in-law. “It’s nothing! Are you counting money from relatives?”
“I am,” Yulia confirmed. “Because someone must pay for this. And it definitely won’t be me.”
“But it was only a week!” Valentina Petrovna protested. “We just relaxed a bit, so what?”
“Well, your relaxation costs twenty-one and a half thousand rubles,” Yulia said. “Plus an official warning from the gardening community chairman.”
Her mother-in-law put the papers aside and looked at Yulia indignantly.
“You want me to pay you money? For resting at your summer house?”
“That’s exactly what I want,” Yulia nodded. “Because rest is one thing, and wrecking is something else.”
“There was no wrecking!” Valentina Petrovna flared up. “You’re exaggerating!”
“Then explain where the broken fence and burnt-out socket came from,” Yulia asked.
“The fence…” her mother-in-law faltered. “Maybe someone accidentally hit it. And the socket just burned out.”
“From loud music at two a.m.?”
“We didn’t do it on purpose,” Valentina Petrovna justified. “We were just in a good mood.”
“You have to pay for a good mood too,” Yulia said. “Especially when it turns into hooliganism.”
Her mother-in-law was silent, nervously fiddling with a napkin.
“I won’t pay,” Valentina Petrovna finally declared. “This is absurd.”
“All right,” Yulia calmly agreed. “Then tomorrow I’ll give all the documents to the precinct officer and the chairman for filing an official lawsuit.”
“Are you threatening me?” her mother-in-law gasped.
“No,” Yulia shook her head. “Just explaining the consequences. You disturbed public order, damaged someone else’s property. That’s against the law.”
“Dima!” Valentina Petrovna suddenly shouted. “Dima, come here! Look what your wife is doing!”
Dmitry was working in the next room at the computer. He came out confused.
“What happened?” the husband asked.
“Here,” Valentina Petrovna pointed at the documents. “Your wife is demanding money from me! For resting at your summer house!”
Dmitry took the papers and studied them carefully.
“Mom,” he quietly said, “did you look at the photos?”
“I did!” the mother-in-law snorted. “So what, a little mess!”
“A little?” Dmitry showed his mother the photo of broken furniture. “Mom, half the plot is destroyed.”
“Are you against me too?” Valentina Petrovna took offense.
“I’m for justice,” Dmitry said. “If you broke something, you should pay for it.”
“But it’s your summer house!” his mother protested. “Family property!”
“That you turned into ruins,” Yulia added. “With five friends.”
“Not five, but three!” Valentina Petrovna corrected.
“Still more than you promised,” Dmitry noted.
The mother-in-law realized she wouldn’t get support from her son. She sat back down, frowning.
“And if I don’t pay?” Valentina Petrovna asked defiantly.
“Then you’ll spend the next week in the plot explaining to the precinct officer how you accidentally broke the fence,” Yulia said. “And then in court if the chairman files a claim.”
“That’s blackmail,” the mother-in-law muttered.
“That’s justice,” Yulia replied. “You break it — you fix it. You damage — you pay.”
Valentina Petrovna was silent for several minutes, considering the situation.
“All right,” she finally said. “But not the whole amount. Half.”
“The whole amount,” Yulia said firmly. “Either through me or through court. Your choice.”
Three days later, twenty-one and a half thousand rubles arrived in Yulia’s account. Valentina Petrovna no longer called with requests about the summer house. And when other relatives asked in summer about the possibility of resting in the countryside, Yulia calmly replied that hotel services were provided only commercially, with advance payment and a deposit for property preservation.
