Marina paced the living room nervously, lost in deep thought. She was torn by conflicting feelings—a mix of confusion and inner unease. Nothing had gone the way she’d planned, and now she didn’t know which choice to make.
The day before, during a visit to the notary, she’d been stunned by unexpected news: six months earlier her father—whom she hadn’t been in contact with for a long time—had died. It turned out that according to his will she inherited his restaurant, and all the rest of his property had been divided among the children from his second marriage—whose existence Marina hadn’t even suspected.
Her first thought was to renounce the inheritance at once. She had completely different plans. In two weeks she was supposed to fly to Germany, where Christian—the man she intended to link her life with—was waiting for her.
Their relationship could hardly be called a classic romantic union. It was more of a businesslike partnership: Christian was looking for an attractive, well-educated wife who could enhance his social standing, while Marina saw in him a wealthy, cultured husband who could help her realize her ambitious plans. She intended to open a chain of beauty salons in Germany, where she had already made a name for herself as a talented makeup artist. But the sudden inheritance of a restaurant completely upset all her calculations.
Her mother strongly advised her to accept the bequest, which surprised her.
“Marinochka, don’t rush to refuse. Think it over carefully before you decide,” Inna Pavlovna said gently.
“Why would I need it? I don’t need anything from him!” Marina protested.
“Don’t get heated—listen to me. Your father isn’t the only one who’s done such a thing. People fall in love… men and women alike. Even while they’re in relationships,” her mother added philosophically.
“Mom, are you defending him? You always said he was a traitor and a scoundrel!” Marina exclaimed, unable to believe her ears.
Inna Pavlovna went to the window and, after a pause, admitted:
“I’m not defending him. I’m the one who’s to blame. I loved Sergey too much—my jealousy and demands drove him away. And then I forbade him to see you. I was hurting, and I didn’t want you two to get close.”
Marina froze, stunned by the frankness.
“He always helped us financially,” her mother went on. “Thanks to that, you got an excellent education. But I didn’t allow you to be together. Forgive me for that deception.”
The confession came as a real shock to Marina. She had always thought of her father as a selfish man, certain that love could only betray and that trust was a luxury. Now her view of the past changed drastically. She decided not to refuse the restaurant, but she felt as if she stood at a crossroads.
Should she entrust the place to a professional manager and fly to Germany, or stay to sort things out? When Christian learned about the situation, he was clearly displeased.
“Marisha, do you understand that my family will not approve of a long delay to the wedding?” he said coolly.
“Of course, Chris. I’ll do everything I can to resolve this quickly,” she replied, trying to stay calm.
“Have you decided what you’ll do with the restaurant? Will you sell it?”
“I don’t know yet. I need to go, take a look, assess the situation. It might be a profitable business.”
“Sensible. If it really turns a good profit, it’s worth keeping. But don’t drag this out.”
After speaking with her fiancé, Marina felt a strange sensation, as if she’d been scolded for a misdeed. To distract herself, she typed the restaurant’s name into a search engine. At first the interior photos caught her eye—they made a pleasant impression. Then she moved on to customer reviews. Most comments were positive, but a few lines gave her pause.
“Never agree to work at this place! Management is always staging weird inspections and delaying pay,” one user wrote. Other employees also complained about mysterious checks and unfair treatment.
Marina shut the laptop, feeling curiosity stir inside her. “What kind of inspections are these?” she wondered, unable to settle. The thought started to haunt her like a pesky fly, making it impossible to focus on anything else.
“What if…” Marina sat down on the couch, staring ahead thoughtfully.
“Why would you do that?” her mother asked, raising her eyebrows.
“I don’t know. I just want to understand how everything works from the inside.”
“Are you serious? Washing everyone’s dishes?” Inna Pavlovna made a face, as if offered something distasteful.
“Exactly. I’ll get a job as a dishwasher. Isn’t that the best way to figure things out?”
“Hm, you really are like your father. He liked unconventional approaches to problems too,” her mother conceded after a pause.
Marina said nothing, noticing how the pain of losing her former husband still weighed on her mother. But time heals, and wounds close.
She looked herself over critically in the mirror and was satisfied.
“Well, Mom, will this do?”
“Good Lord! You could pass for forty! It’s terrifying!”
“Perfect!” she rejoiced.
“Think one more time, dear. Are you sure you want this?”
“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine. I can handle it.”
In front of the restaurant, Marina stopped, impressed by the magnificent facade and the impeccably kept grounds. Crossing the threshold, she began to look around. A young woman approached her at once.
“Are you looking for someone? We’re not open yet.”
“I’m here about the dishwasher job posting.”
“I see. I’ll take you to Alexei Sergeyevich.”
“Well then, it’ll be interesting to meet this tyrant who apparently organizes all those inspections,” Marina thought.
“Tell me, is it true you have horrible inspections here?” she ventured to ask her guide.
“Where did you get that? Reading reviews? Those are written by people who want to get paid for doing nothing. Yes, there are checks, but they’re more like professionalism tests. Without them we wouldn’t have reached this level of service.”
Marina was puzzled. She’d imagined a staff cowed by fear, but instead heard a very different story.
The girl led her into a spacious office where a man in his mid-thirties sat at a desk. He didn’t match a despot’s image at all: he was young, energetic, and quite attractive. There was a keen look in his eyes.
“Hello. Come in, have a seat. Which position are you applying for?” His voice was soft and confident.
Marina listened only half-heartedly as he described a dishwasher’s duties. She was captivated by his manner of speaking and found herself hanging on every word. Her inner voice whispered that the situation was taking an unexpected turn.
“Are there… any tests?” she mumbled, trying to keep a straight face.
“Of course. Would you like to try right now? We’ll see whether this job suits you.”
On the way to the dishwashing area, Marina prepared a speech about how such hiring methods were unacceptable. But her thoughts tangled—reality turned out quite different from what she’d imagined.
“These aren’t inspections so much as tests of speed and quality,” he said. “You have to work in sync here: wash a mountain of dishes, keep service moving.”
Marina looked at Alexei Sergeyevich with slight bewilderment.
“That’s all? And I thought…”
“What did you expect?” he smiled, as if reading her mind.
She felt embarrassed. She really had expected something more dramatic, but now realized she was wrong.
The trial began. To her surprise, Marina found she enjoyed washing dishes. It felt almost meditative—carefully cleaning each plate, making sure the glasses shone. Her mother often joked about this:
“Marishka, you’ll never be lost! If nothing else, you can always work as a housekeeper. Leave a little work for Zinaida!”
Zinaida, the family’s faithful housekeeper, had patiently taught little Marina for years all the ins and outs of running a home. The girl would spend hours in the kitchen, helping and listening to her stories.
The result of the trial exceeded all expectations.
“Excellent!” Alexei Sergeyevich said approvingly. “When can you start?”
“When do you need me?” she replied, feeling a new sensation bloom inside her—a mix of curiosity and excitement.
“To be honest, we’ve needed someone for a while. The girls have been overwhelmed—serving the floor and trying to keep up back here. Your help would be just in time.”
“Well then, I can start tomorrow.”
“Perfect! I’ll expect you at nine.”
Alexei Sergeyevich walked Marina to the door. Her heart was pounding, as if it wanted to burst from her chest. “What nonsense is this?” she wondered. “Why does this man affect me like that?”
Marina took out her phone, meaning to call Christian to calm herself, but changed her mind. The agitation she felt was unusual and even pleasant. Christian, by contrast, always made her feel a placid calm, like drifting into sleep.
When she got home, she noticed her mother studying her closely.
“Marisha, what’s going on with you? You’re glowing!”
“Mom, they hired me! Can you imagine? I passed the test! And the manager there, Alexei Sergeyevich… he’s so…”
Inna Pavlovna grew alert.
“Wait. Alexei? Dark-haired?”
“Yes! Do you know him?”
Her mother leaned back in her chair.
“He’s the son of your father’s best friend. When Sergey learned of his friend’s death, he took the boy’s family under his wing. They were living hand-to-mouth back then, and your dad regularly helped them with money. I never imagined he’d be so loyal to his friend’s memory.”
“Wow!” Marina was amazed. “So this is fate?”
Inna Pavlovna shook her head, still surprised by the changes in her daughter.
“If I’d known you’d react like this… But tell me—do you really intend to wash dishes in your own restaurant?”
“For a while, yes. We can’t leave people shorthanded. You’ll see—it’s the right thing to do!”
Her mother only sighed. She could see that Marina looked younger somehow, livelier, though she couldn’t explain why.
The week flew by in a blur of tasks. The restaurant was packed every evening, and there was plenty of work for everyone. Marina rarely crossed paths with Alexei, which only fanned her interest. At the same time, she searched for a reliable replacement so the restaurant wouldn’t be left without needed hands.
Christian phoned regularly, reminding her of the fast-approaching wedding. But now Marina realized she had no desire to fly to Germany at all. All she wanted was to stay here, where she might see Alexei.
One evening a full-blown scandal erupted at the restaurant—something that had never happened before. Marina cautiously peeked out of the dish room. The waitresses were whispering among themselves.
“She’s completely lost it! She throws a tantrum every week now.”
“Of course—she’s been trying forever to snag Alexei Sergeyevich, and he acts like she doesn’t exist. Today she really crossed the line.”
The shouting grew louder. When Marina saw the source of the commotion, she nearly groaned. It was Lenka, an old friend, acting like a raging bull.
“Who are you to tell me what to do?!” she was screaming at Alexei. “I don’t even know you!”
He remained unruffled, though he’d gone pale.
“Please leave the premises. Otherwise I’ll have to call the police.”
“The police? You’re a petty little flunky—you don’t decide anything here! I’ll call the owner right now and have her throw you out!”
Marina couldn’t take it anymore. Grabbing a towel, she quickly wiped off her makeup and strode into the dining room. The waitresses gasped as if they’d seen a ghost.
“Lenka, let’s go talk outside!”
Her friend stared at her in amazement.
“Marinka? What’s with the costume party? Did you decide to be a waitress now?”
Marina caught the manager’s unfriendly look—he clearly didn’t approve of her role as an “ordinary dishwasher.” After putting Lena in a taxi and sternly warning her not to come back, Marina returned. The waitresses stepped aside to let her into the manager’s office.
Alexei met her with a questioning look.
“Can you explain what’s going on here? And why did one of your friends decide to stage a public tantrum?”
Marina drew a deep breath.
“Alexei Sergeyevich, I’m sorry about all of this. I started working here because I read negative reviews and wanted to see if they were true. Then I got pulled in… And now I want to confess: I’m the owner of this restaurant.”
For a second he froze, then frowned.
“So I’m not fired?”
“Of course not! You’re doing an excellent job.”
Alexei rubbed his face with his hands, as if trying to wake up.
“I did not see that coming. Forgive me for my suspicions.”
They went on talking, moving from work to personal topics. After closing, they finished up the last of the dishes together. When Alexei walked her home, he admitted shyly:
“To be honest, I still can’t get used to you like this… so real.”
“It’s all right—we’ll end up friends,” she replied with a smile.
“Friends,” he echoed, lightly touching her hand. “Will you drop by sometimes?”
“Oh, much more often than you think!” she laughed. “I need to keep an eye on things until we hire a new dishwasher.”
“You’re amazing,” he murmured.
When she entered her apartment, Marina found a message from Christian: “If you don’t fly out immediately, the wedding is off.” Smiling, she typed back: “Cancel it. I’m not going anywhere.”
Six months later a lavish wedding took place in that very restaurant. Dressed in white, Marina beamed beside Alexei. Now she knew for certain: love at first sight isn’t just a fairy tale—it’s real, when you meet the right person.
