All our relatives are coming to stay with us for the summer!” Sergey announced happily, bursting into the kitchen with his phone in his hand.
I froze with my half-finished cup of coffee. My first thought was, “He’s joking.” The second: “God, anything but this.”
“What relatives exactly?” I asked cautiously, hoping he meant at most his parents.
Sergey flopped down on the chair opposite me, beaming like a string of Christmas lights.
“Everyone! Mom and Dad, Lenka with her husband and the twins, Dima with Alena and their son. Can you imagine how great it’ll be? A whole month together!”
I tried to smile, but it didn’t go well. A picture flashed before my eyes: our not-so-big house crammed with eight adults and three children, one shared bathroom, a line for the kitchen, shouting, noise… And my project, which I needed to work on in silence and concentration to get the long-awaited promotion.
“When are they coming?” I asked, trying to grasp the scale of the catastrophe.
“Mom and Dad and Lenka with her family this Saturday, Dima in a week. Cool, right?”
There were three days left until Saturday. I silently took out my phone and went out into the garden, pretending the reception was better there.
“Hello, do you have any vacancies for July? A single room, please.”
That’s how the craziest summer of my life began.
The first to arrive were Sergey’s parents, Anna Petrovna and Viktor Stepanovich. My mother-in-law immediately set about imposing her own rules in the kitchen, while my father-in-law took over Sergey’s favorite armchair and turned the TV up to full volume.
“Irinochka,” Anna Petrovna whispered conspiratorially when we were alone in the kitchen, “Vitya and I brought the family heirloom box. It’s time to hand it over to a worthy heir.”
She took a wooden box with intricate carving out of her bag.
“It’s been passed down in our family for four generations already. They say Sergey’s great-grandfather made it with his own hands for his great-grandmother.”
“And who do you want to pass it on to?” I asked out of politeness, though I already had a feeling what the answer would be.
“That is what we will decide!” my mother-in-law said meaningfully. “We’ll see who proves themselves this summer.”
That same evening Sergey’s sister Elena arrived with her husband Nikolai and the twins Kostya and Katya. The ten-year-old rascals immediately took over the guest room, and Lena and Nikolai settled in the study where I had planned to work on my project.
“Irina, it’s been so long since we last saw each other!” Lena hugged me tightly. “We’ll finally get to really talk! And I brought my signature pie. I hope you don’t mind if I take over your kitchen a little?”
I smiled and nodded, mentally counting the days until the end of July.
On the third day of living together I realized that I simply wouldn’t survive without my “backup airfield.” Getting up at five in the morning, I left a note saying I was going to an important work meeting and fled to the hotel.
I never thought I’d be so happy about an impersonal hotel room. Silence, just my laptop and my work.
At lunchtime I went down to the hotel restaurant and froze on the threshold. At a table in the back sat Dmitry—Sergey’s brother, who wasn’t supposed to arrive until the following week.
Our eyes met, and we both froze like schoolkids caught red-handed.
“Don’t tell me you’ve run away too,” Dmitry said, half asking, half stating.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in the city?”
Dmitry snorted.
“We got in last night. Alena and Mishka went straight to your place, and I said I had a business meeting and checked in here. I didn’t even know you were hiding out here too.”
I sat down at his table.
“Shall we make a non-aggression pact?” I suggested. “I don’t tell anyone about you, and you don’t tell anyone about me.”
“Deal,” Dmitry smiled. “I wonder who else from our big happy family has found a way to escape?”
That question turned out to be prophetic.
A few days later I noticed that Anna Petrovna regularly disappeared from the house for a couple of hours, explaining it as health walks. Nikolai “went on business” three times a week, although he was officially on vacation. And Elena had signed up for some mysterious treatments after which she came back suspiciously refreshed.
Even my Sergey, the biggest enthusiast of the family gathering, started stopping by the local café on a regular basis “to chat with new friends.”
Only the children and Viktor Stepanovich remained faithful to the house, though the latter, it seemed, simply didn’t hear all the commotion over the sound of the TV.
And then there was that very box. Every evening at dinner Anna Petrovna would start a conversation about family values and traditions, hinting that she was watching everyone closely.
“The box should go to the one who truly values family,” she would say meaningfully, letting her gaze move from one face to another.
That unspoken competition just added to the tension in an already strained atmosphere.
On Friday evening I came back from the hotel earlier than usual—I had to prepare a presentation for an important meeting. The house greeted me with an unusual silence. In the living room I found only Alena, Dmitry’s wife, who was leafing through a magazine with a focused look.
“Where is everybody?” I asked in surprise.
“They’ve scattered in all directions,” Alena shrugged. “Mother-in-law went to the library, Sergey to his café, Lenka to her treatments, Nikolai to a meeting, Dima… well, you know where. The kids went to the park with Grandpa.”
I froze.
“Wait, you know about Dima?”
Alena snorted.
“Of course. We agreed on it ages ago: he gets a couple of days off at the hotel, then I get a couple of days. Otherwise we’d have killed each other in this madhouse.”
“And you know about me too?”
“I know about everyone,” she said, putting the magazine aside. “Sit down, I’ll tell you something interesting.”
It turned out that Anna Petrovna wasn’t taking walks at all, but going to the local library, where she spent hours reading in silence. Elena wasn’t going to treatments either, but to a nearby town to see a childhood friend. Nikolai was playing tennis at the sports club. And Sergey was in his café obsessively playing board games with the locals.
“But how did you find out?” I was amazed.
“It’s a small town; everyone sees everything,” Alena shrugged. “Besides, I’m the only one who actually wanted this family gathering. But even I need a break.”
We laughed and, for the first time in all this time, really talked.
Everything changed on Saturday evening. Anna Petrovna had organized a festive family dinner, after which she planned to announce her decision about the box. I was setting the table when I heard her scream from the guest room.
“The box is gone!”
Everyone ran to her call. Anna Petrovna was standing in the middle of the room with a look of extreme indignation on her face.
“I clearly remember leaving it on the dresser, and now it’s not there!”
“Maybe you moved it and forgot?” suggested Viktor Stepanovich.
“I’m not senile!” she protested. “Someone took the box without asking!”
Everyone’s eyes began darting from one to another. Nikolai was the first to snap.
“Why are you all looking at me? You think I stole it? What on earth would I need it for!”
“No one is accusing you,” Sergey began, but Elena cut him off.
“Actually, you’re the only one who’s constantly going off somewhere. Who knows, maybe you wanted to sell it!”
“I’m the one going off?” Nikolai retorted. “And what about you! What kind of ‘treatments’ last three hours?”
“Don’t you dare accuse me!” Elena flared up. “You’d better ask Dmitry where he spends half his nights!”
Dmitry turned pale.
“What do you mean?”
“We all know about your hotel!” blurted Elena. “And Irina’s too!”
A deathly silence fell. Sergey slowly turned to me.
“What hotel?”
I took a deep breath.
“I booked a room at Pine Grove so I could sometimes work on my project in peace. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“How often are you there?” he asked quietly.
“Almost every day,” I answered honestly.
“And did you know my brother was there too?”
“We ran into each other in the restaurant by accident,” Dmitry cut in. “And agreed not to give each other away. But we go there at different times.”
“Traitors!” cried Anna Petrovna. “And here I was wondering whom to entrust with the family heirloom! Fine heirs you are!”
“And what about you!” I couldn’t help myself. “You sneak off to the library when you’re supposedly out for a walk!”
Anna Petrovna gasped and clutched at her heart.
“How did you…”
“Everyone knows everything about everyone,” Alena sighed. “Elena goes to see her friend, Nikolai plays tennis, Sergey is in the café playing board games. Only me, the kids, and Viktor Stepanovich honestly stay at home.”
“Dad runs away too,” little Mishka piped up suddenly. “Only he hides in the shed. He’s got a chair and books there.”
Viktor Stepanovich grunted and spread his hands.
“Busted.”
There was an awkward pause, and then Sergey started laughing. Elena joined in, then Dmitry, and soon everyone was roaring with laughter.
“What a family,” said Anna Petrovna, wiping her tears. “No one’s interested in being with each other.”
“That’s not it, Mom,” Sergey objected. “It’s just that everyone needs personal space.”
“And what about the box?” my mother-in-law remembered. “It’s still missing!”
“Grandma, I took it,” Katya said quietly, stepping forward. “It’s so pretty, I wanted to keep my stuff in it.”
She held out the box, and Anna Petrovna took it, relieved.
“Well, since we’ve all confessed to each other, let’s talk like adults,” Sergey suggested. “Over dinner.”
It was the most candid family dinner of my life. We talked about personal boundaries, about the need to be alone, about how we loved each other but sometimes couldn’t stand constant togetherness.
“Irina, forgive me,” Sergey said when everyone had gone. “I should have discussed my family’s visit with you beforehand. I just really wanted to get everyone together like when we were kids.”
“And I should have been honest that I needed time to work and time for myself,” I replied. “Instead of secretly running away.”
We agreed to draw up a schedule for the remaining two weeks: mornings for work and personal time, daytime for activities together, and evenings for family dinners—but not every day.
“And what about the box?” I asked Anna Petrovna before bed.
She smiled.
“I’ll keep it for now. But I’ve had an idea. What if every year, during our family gathering, we put little souvenirs in it? Each family member their own, with a story. In a few years it will become a real family treasure.”
On the last day of our reunion I booked a large table at the Pine Grove hotel restaurant. Everyone was surprised when I invited them there.
“Welcome to my ‘backup airfield,’” I said with a smile when we sat down at the festive table.
“It’s cozy here,” Anna Petrovna nodded approvingly. “Next year maybe we’ll stay here right away? We’ll just visit each other.”
“But first we’ll definitely discuss the plans,” Sergey said firmly, taking my hand.
I smiled and nodded. That summer I not only finished my project and got my promotion, but also realized one important thing: sometimes you need to pull away a little in order to truly grow closer.
The box stayed with my mother-in-law, but we all put small keepsakes into it: I a flash drive with my project, Sergey a die from the café, the kids some sea shells, each of us something of our own.
Before leaving, Elena hugged me and whispered:
“Next year book me a room next to yours. And thank you for your honesty.”
Now, when I remember that summer, I smile. Sometimes it takes a full-blown family drama to finally learn how to tell the truth
