Liza, we wont take much. Pack your signature pie and a couple of jars of jam for the road, Gleb said lazily, a grin spreading across his face.
Liza stared at the guest, stunned by his brazen request. How could he ask so shamelessly?
In her mind swirled memories of the countless hours shed spent perfecting that pie and preparing the house for their arrival.
Now Gleb, who hadnt lifted a single tool all week, lounged in the shade demanding a takeaway treat.
She glanced at Artem, who seemed oblivious to his brothers behavior.
Gleb, arent you asking too much? Liza asked, trying to stay calm.
Enough, Liza! he waved her off without even turning around. Were family, we should share. And youve got a whole lot of stuff here!
A hot mix of resentment and anger rose inside Liza.
The lakeside cottage theyd bought three years earlier had become a true sanctuary for her and Artem.
In summer there were no lazy days: early rises, weeding, berry picking, tending the chickens, and stockpiling for winter. Every helping hand was worth its weight in gold.
Thus Glebs demand struck as an insult. He either didnt seeor chose not to seeall that labor.
To him the cottage was just a free vacation spot, and Liza and Artem were merely staff.
It all began three weeks earlier when Gleb called, offering to drop by, lend a hand around the farm, and enjoy some nature.
Those words came as a surprise. Gleb and his wife Olga were cityslickers through and through: parties, bars, movies, weekend shopping sprees.
Help us? Liza repeated, a flicker of doubt in her voice.
But Gleb pressed on enthusiastically:
Exactly! Were family! Itll be easier for you, and well get some fresh air. Ive been wanting to pick raspberries and heat up the sauna
After hanging up, Liza lingered on the porch, idly running her fingers over the apron fabric. She knew Glebs habitbig promises, little followthrough. In her heart doubts lingered, yet Artem, hearing the news, lit up:
Well, maybe theyll at least pick some berries. And look, my brother will help me with the fence.
The following days Liza was swamped as if the president himself had arrived. She washed and ironed the bedding, laid out fresh towels, drove into town for suppliesfresh fish, meat for kebabs, fruit, sweetsso the relatives would feel welcome.
Maybe everything will turn out fine, she told herself while hanging towels. Even a little help would be a win.
When Gleb and Olga finally arrived, Liza greeted them with a smile, masking her reservations. The guests looked relaxed, as if returning from a resort.
Here we are! Gleb announced cheerfully, spreading his arms wide.
Liza forced a grin and ushered them to the table. On the veranda, salads, hot pies, and cold compote already waited.
The first halfhour passed with light chatter and news swapping, after which Artem carefully laid out the plan for the next days.
Tomorrow well start haymaking, then move on to berry picking. Lots to do, but well manage together.
Sure, of course, Olga nodded, though Liza caught a hint of surprise and a touch of bewilderment in her eyes, as if haymaking belonged to another world.
Liza sensed that look and felt a foreboding sting: something told her that the promised help might be invisible.
The first day felt festive. Liza tried not to dwell on the waisthigh grass, strawberry patches overrun with weeds, and the barrels of apples awaiting collection in the shed.
Gleb was in high spirits, loudly telling jokes, cracking seeds, bragging that he was tired of the city and so happy to be out in nature.
Olga, in a new sundress, posed against the sunset and lake, snapping dozens of photos.
Artem smiled, pleased that his brother had finally arrived and hoping the work would now proceed faster.
But by the next morning the mood shifted.
Liza awoke at dawn to a roosters crow, pulled on rubber boots, and stepped outside. Dew glittered on the grass, the air smelled of fresh hay. Chickens clucked, demanding feed.
She scooped grain, then glanced toward the guestroom windowquiet, curtains drawn.
By eight oclock Liza had already fed the birds, gathered a bucket of green cucumbers, and watered the beds.
Artem emerged with a cup of tea and announced:
Gleb and Olga went to town. Said they have urgent business.
Liza nodded silently, though a sharp, unpleasant knot formed inside. She had hoped the helpers would at least show up after breakfast.
They returned only at dusk, looking radiant and satisfied. Gleb unloaded bags of chips, soda, and fizzy drinks from the trunk as if hed performed a heroic feat.
Liza, this place is practically a sanatorium! he shouted, collapsing into a veranda chair. Everything does itself!
The following day Liza felt irritation building. She mowed alone, hauled heavy buckets, scrubbed floors, and cooked lunch.
Gleb lounged in a hammock, lazily scrolling his phone, complaining of a headache.
I think Ive caught a cold. Ill stay in today.
Olga stretched on a beach towel by the water, taking selfies. Her social feeds filled with new captions: #CountryRelax, #LifeIsBeautiful, #NatureGetaway.
Each passing day left Liza more exhausted and irritable. She rose at five, went to bed after midnight, washing dishes and tidying up after the guests.
The visitors never offered to help; they genuinely believed their mere presence was a gift.
We came to visit you, Olga wondered when Liza asked her to wash dishes. Should guests be working?
From that moment the hostesss smile became a permanent, strained stretch, and every request from the guests felt like a nail in her patience.
Slowly, inevitably, hospitality reached its breaking point.
On the fifth day Liza could no longer stay silent. The irritation that had been gathering since the guests arrival hit its limit.
She spent the whole day in the garden, weeding rows, hauling water buckets, all while laughter echoed from the veranda where Olga, sprawled on a deck chair, chatted with friends.
When Artem returned from the field, tired and dusty, Liza met him with a serious expression.
I cant take this anymore, she said. They dont even clear their own dishes! Today Gleb asked me to wash his shirt, and Olga declared breakfast just something simple.
Artem nodded, and they decided to involve the guests in the next days chores: Gleb would finally help Artem fix the fence, and Olga would take on weeding the strawberries.
Liza hoped that at least this would make the visitors understand: relaxation is fine, but the farm wont run itself.
Gleb, tomorrow we need to repair the fence, Artem said over dinner. Will you help?
Of course, of course, Gleb waved, chewing his kebab without looking away from his phone.
It was clear his mind was more on messaging than on the work at hand.
The next morning Artem rose early. The air was crisp, scented with hay and dew. He fetched tools from the shed, inspected boards and nails, even brewed strong tea for his brother to start the day on a good note.
He knocked on the guestroom door. Silence. He knocked again, louder. Only the soft hum of the airconditioner answered. When he opened the door, the room was empty.
On the nightstand lay a note:
Were in town, will be back this evening! Barbecue tonight!
That evening Gleb and Olga returned, burdened with bags of meat, foam, and dried fish.
They laughed, talked about terrible traffic jams and the heat. Liza, utterly exhausted, barely stayed on her feet by the porch.
We agreed on work for the plot, she reminded them.
Ah, right, right, Gleb replied carelessly, waving a meat sack. Well definitely help tomorrow! I promise.
But on the seventh morning he announced:
We have to leave urgently. Too bad we didnt get to help!
Then, grinning, he added:
Liza, pack your signature pie for the road, and bring a couple of jars of raspberry jam. Its just wonderful!
Anger boiled inside Liza. A week of hard worksunrise in the garden, endless cooking, washing, cleaning, and caring for ungrateful guestsculminated in a decisive refusal.
We wont give you anything, she said, trying to keep her voice steady, though it trembled. You havent done a single task all week.
Gleb froze, disbelief written across his face. His cheeks flushed, eyes narrowed.
Youre something else! he shouted, his voice cracking. What about hospitality? We came with hearts!
With what hearts? Liza snapped. You came to vacation at our expense! I was the only one working while you lounged in hammocks and shopped!
Artem, usually the peacekeeper, stepped beside his wife, placed a hand on her shoulder, and looked straight at his brother. Calm but firm, he said:
Gleb, you offered to help yourself. Yet all you did was eat, drink, and complain about the heat.
What are you talking about, Artem! Gleb exploded, stepping forward. Were family! And youre demanding money for food! Shame on you, brother!
Olga, standing by the porch, let out a loud sigh, raised her arms toward the sky in a dramatic display of contempt, pursed her lips, and trudged to the car.
She slammed the door shut, visibly upset that what was supposed to be a family gathering ended in a scandal.
Lets go, Gleb! she shouted from the vehicle. Were not valued here! And family
Gleb turned to Artem and Liza. He seemed about to say something, but instead waved his hand dismissively, as if brushing off all the accusations, and strode swiftly to his car.
He slammed the trunk shut, slumped into the drivers seat, his face twisted with rage, eyes a mix of shock and offense, as if the world had suddenly turned against him.
He shouted over his shoulder:
Just take your pies and go! he yelled, closing the door. Well never come back!
When the car vanished around the bend, Liza and Artem remained on the porch, feeling both relief and the lingering fatigue of the emotional storm.
Artem let out a deep sigh and sank onto a step.
Experience is costly but valuable, he said, looking at his wife with understanding. No more freeloaders will show up.
Liza nodded, realizing how useful that lesson had been.
That evening they walked the fields, taking stock of the work still awaiting them. The fence still needed repair, the strawberries required weeding, and the hay was far from finished.
They strolled slowly along the path, listening to the gardens night sounds. Liza caught herself thinking that exhaustion from honest labor felt far sweeter than the weariness caused by someone elses arrogance.
Later, the couple heated the sauna and brewed tea with raspberry jamthe very jam Gleb had been pestering them for. They looked out over the lake, and Liza felt their little cottage reclaim its quiet sanctuary.
From now on well only welcome guests who arrive with rakes, not phones, Liza said, and they both laughed, understanding that the true essentials in life are mutual help and respect.
