A sharp November snow scraped against the windshield of the old crossover. Inessa tapped her long acrylic nails irritably on the steering wheel. The heater roared like an airplane about to take off, but inside the car it still smelled of dampness and cheap “frosty freshness” air freshener.
The door creaked open, and Oksana dropped into the passenger seat, shaking snow from her puffer jacket.
“Well, your car is a freezer,” Oksana shivered, rubbing her reddened hands. “You still haven’t had the heater fixed?”
“Kostik is having some business problems right now,” Inessa snapped, pulling out of the courtyard. “Listen, did you book the table at the Imperial?”
“Yes. But Inessa… the prices there are insane. One main course costs half my salary. Are you sure about this?”
Inessa smirked crookedly and glanced quickly in the rearview mirror.
“Oksanochka, relax. We won’t pay a single kopeck. I sent you the screenshot, remember? Our little gray mouse, Varya Soboleva, agreed to come.”
“So what? We haven’t spoken to her since school. She can’t stand us.”
“Exactly!” Inessa snorted. “I found her page on social media. No Maldives, no designer brands. Her profile picture is some forest. She probably sits in an office somewhere, shuffling accounting papers all day. I wrote to her that we were getting together in a small group to celebrate twenty years since graduation. In the most expensive place in the city. She must be dying to feel like part of the elite.”
“And what’s the plan?”
“Perfectly simple. We order the most expensive things. Kamchatka crab, oysters, premium sparkling wine. We eat our fill, and when it’s time to ask for the bill, you and I pretend we’re going to powder our noses. We take our coat tags, get dressed, and leave calmly.”
“Inessa, that’s harsh,” Oksana swallowed nervously, though greedy curiosity slipped into her voice. “The bill could be seventy thousand.”
“Then let her wash dishes if she has no money. Twenty years ago, she annoyed me with her perfect little behavior. Let her pay now for the privilege of sitting at the same table with normal people.”
Meanwhile, in a bright living room on the other side of the city, Varvara was looking at her phone screen. A message from Inessa. So many years had passed, yet the mere sight of that woman’s name still left an unpleasant aftertaste.
Varvara walked over to the window. The hum of the school corridor rose in her memory, along with the smell of chlorine from freshly washed floors. She remembered hiding her feet under the desk in worn-out autumn boots because her parents had not been able to afford winter ones. Her father worked as a guard at the factory entrance, and her mother took double shifts at the bakery.
Varvara had always been an excellent student, but good grades had never protected her from mockery. Inessa, the daughter of a local kiosk owner, came to school in imported sweaters and looked down on everyone. Varvara still remembered that March day when Inessa snatched her old fabric backpack from her hands and, laughing, threw it into a dirty puddle of melted snow near the school steps. Varya said nothing then. She only swallowed the lump in her throat and went to pull out her soaked, ruined notebooks.
“Lost in thought again?”
Heavy, warm hands settled on her shoulders. Varvara turned around. Her husband, Roman, was holding a mug of freshly brewed tea.
“My former classmates invited me to a reunion,” she nodded toward the phone. “Inessa organized it. They chose the Imperial.”
Roman raised his eyebrows in surprise and gave a quiet laugh.
“Really? Your restaurant? Do they even know who owns it?”
“They have no idea. I don’t appear publicly as the owner. As far as everyone knows, there’s just a manager. I think they simply picked the most pretentious place in town.”
“Are you going?” Roman handed her the mug. “If you don’t want to, stay home. Our son and I were planning to build that huge construction set tonight.”
“You know what? I will go,” Varvara said, narrowing her eyes thoughtfully. “I want to look them in the eyes. I want to understand, for myself, that the past is truly behind me.”
Saturday evening turned out freezing cold. Varvara chose a simple emerald dress made of thick silk. No visible logos, only a delicate string of pearls and expensive Italian shoes.
When she entered the spacious lobby of the Imperial, the air carried the faint scent of truffle oil and expensive perfume. The manager, Zhanna, immediately approached her.
“Good evening, Varvara Nikolaevna. Your table in the VIP hall is ready.”
“Zhanna, one request,” Varvara lowered her voice slightly. “Tonight, I’m incognito. And also… serve this table at the highest level, but separate the bills in the system. My order separately. Theirs separately.”
The manager nodded in understanding.
Varvara pushed open the heavy door to the hall. Four people were already seated around the round mahogany table. Pavel, once a quiet good student; Ksenia, the former class monitor; and, of course, Inessa and Oksana.
“And here comes our Varya!” Inessa called out loudly with exaggerated joy. “Hello! Come in, sit down. We were already thinking you saw the menu prices, got scared, and ran away.”
“Good evening,” Varvara said calmly, lowering herself into the empty chair.
“Nice dress. Did you rent it?” Inessa looked her outfit up and down with a sharp gaze. Inessa herself was wearing a blouse covered with an excessive amount of rhinestones.
“I bought it,” Varvara replied evenly, spreading the napkin over her lap.
“Well then, let’s celebrate!” Inessa called the waiter over with a royal gesture. “A dozen imperial oysters, beef carpaccio, two medium ribeye steaks, and a bottle of your best dry red wine.”
Oksana gave a nervous little laugh and ordered seafood as well. Pavel and Ksenia modestly chose salads and a main course.
“And you, Varya?” Inessa curled her lips into a smirk. “Order something. Don’t be afraid. You probably haven’t eaten anything sweeter than carrots since the school cafeteria.”
“A green apple salad and herbal tea for me, please,” Varvara said softly to the waiter, completely ignoring the insult.
The next hour and a half turned into a one-woman performance. Inessa loudly boasted about her “successful” husband, a nonexistent villa, and her connections. At the same time, Varvara clearly noticed how nervously Inessa kept adjusting the strap of her handbag, where the gold plating had already begun to peel.
Inessa and Oksana devoured delicacies and kept refilling their glasses with dry red wine. When only empty oyster shells remained on the table, Inessa exchanged a meaningful glance with her friend.
“Oh, girls, we’ll be back in a minute. Just going to powder our noses, and then we’ll order dessert!” Inessa chirped, rising gracefully from the table.
Varvara followed them with a calm gaze. She knew every inch of her establishment. There was only one way out of the VIP hall — through the lobby with the cloakroom.
Slipping out the door, Inessa and Oksana hurried to the cloakroom counter.
“Quick, our coats,” Inessa hissed, pushing the coat tags toward the elderly attendant. “Oksana, head for the exit. The taxi’s already arriving. I can just imagine Soboleva’s face when they bring her a bill for a hundred thousand!”
But the cloakroom attendant did not move. Instead, manager Zhanna approached the counter silently, while two tall security guards in strict suits smoothly blocked the way to the exit.
“Good evening. Are you leaving us already?” Zhanna’s voice was impeccably polite, but cold as steel.
“Yes, we’re in a hurry. Give us our things!” Inessa raised her voice, feeling her palms grow sweaty.
“Of course. But according to the restaurant’s rules, outerwear is returned only after the bill has been paid. You had a separate check. The total for your order is ninety-two thousand rubles. Will you be paying by card or in cash?”
Ugly red patches spread across Inessa’s face. Oksana let out a frightened squeak and pressed herself against the wall.
“Are you out of your mind?!” Inessa shrieked through the whole lobby. “The woman who stayed in the hall is paying for us! Varvara Soboleva! We’re her guests. Go demand the money from her!”
At that moment, a calm, steady voice came from the corridor.
“I am not treating anyone, Inessa.”
Varvara slowly stepped into the bright lobby. Her posture radiated complete, quiet confidence. Pavel and Ksenia, who had followed her out, froze in astonishment near the doors.
“Varya! Tell this staff of yours to let us out!” Inessa switched to hysterical shouting. “What kind of circus are you running here?”
“Zhanna is doing everything according to procedure,” Varvara said, folding her arms across her chest. “In my establishment, guests are not allowed to run away without paying.”
Complete silence fell. Only the soft background music continued to play. Inessa blinked her painted lashes, trying to process what she had just heard.
“Your… establishment?” she whispered with pale lips.
“That’s right. And since you enjoyed my oysters with such appetite, be kind enough to pay for them. Zhanna, the terminal.”
The manager handed over the device. With trembling hands, Inessa tapped her card against it. A red message appeared on the screen: Insufficient funds.
“Oksana!” Inessa grabbed her friend by the elbow in panic. “Pay it. I’ll transfer it to you tomorrow!”
“With what?!” Oksana burst into tears. “I have a mortgage, and there are three thousand left on my card! You said we would just leave!”
Varvara watched the scene with icy calm.
“You have five minutes to find the money,” she said crisply. “Otherwise, the security team will call the authorities. We’ll file a report for dishonest conduct.”
With shaking fingers, Inessa dialed her husband. The speaker was loud, and in the complete silence of the lobby, a rough, irritated voice rang out:
“What do you want?”
“Kostik, darling… transfer me ninety thousand. Urgently. I have a problem at a restaurant…”
“Have you completely lost your mind?!” her husband shouted so loudly that Oksana flinched. “What restaurants? Suppliers are chasing us for debts, the cars are on loans! I blocked your last cards yesterday, you spender! Get yourself out of it!”
The line went dead.
Inessa slowly lowered the phone. Her fake perfect world had just collapsed with a loud crack in front of the very people she had planned to humiliate. She stood in the middle of the luxurious lobby, crushed, with mascara running down her face, pathetic and exposed.
“There is no money, Varvara Nikolaevna,” Zhanna stated quietly. “Shall we call the authorities?”
Varvara looked at the two shrinking women.
“No. There’s no need for the authorities,” she said slowly. “We happen to be short of one person in the dishwashing area tonight. Ladies, since you can’t pay, you’ll work it off. Zhanna, take them to the kitchen. Give them rubber aprons and gloves. Until every piece of banquet china is washed and every pot is scrubbed clean, their coats stay in the cloakroom.”
Inessa’s eyes widened in horror.
“I… I’m not washing dishes! I’ve never once in my life—”
“Then now is the perfect time to learn,” Varvara cut her off and turned away. “Either you wash, or you go to the police station. The choice is yours.”
Ten minutes later, sitting at the table with Pavel and Ksenia, Varvara sipped her herbal tea. From the corridor leading to the kitchen came the muffled clatter of dishes and quiet, helpless sobs.
Varvara smiled. The tea tasted surprisingly good, and her heart felt unexpectedly light.
