— “We bought the dacha without your handouts, and we’ll live without your fuss too!” — snapped the daughter-in-law, adjusting her dark glasses as if drawing a firm line.
Viktor stood by the window, scrolling through listings for garden plots on his phone. For months, the couple had carefully examined every offer, counting every penny. Their savings grew slowly, like raindrops collecting in an empty bucket after a long drought.
— Look, Tamara, this plot doesn’t seem too expensive, — he said, turning to his wife. — It’s a bit far from the city, but there’s a house on it.
Tamara set aside her sewing and came closer. In the evenings, she took orders for curtains and bedspreads; her fingers ached from constant work, but the dream of having their own dacha made it all worthwhile.
— Should we go see it on Saturday? — she suggested, squinting at the screen. — Only if the road is okay. Remember last time, trudging through the mud up to our knees?
Viktor nodded and bookmarked the listing. Over two years, they had traveled half the city, looking at plots, but the price was often too high, the location unsuitable, or the owners suddenly changed their minds.
At home and work, their idea was met with incomprehension. Colleagues wondered why they needed a garden, and mother-in-law Valentina Stepanovna would frown whenever she heard about vegetable beds. Viktor’s sister, Ludmila, would openly yawn over the phone when he shared news.
Yet the couple continued to save. Tamara gave up new jeans, Viktor didn’t replace his old boots. They spent vacations at home, saving money they would have spent at the seaside.
When their savings still weren’t enough, Viktor decided to ask his mother for help. But Valentina Stepanovna refused: “I spend my money on medicine. Figure out your own dacha.”
The couple did not despair. Tamara took evening cleaning jobs, Viktor worked as a mover on weekends. They ate modestly, almost no meat. Entertainment was limited to rare walks.
Spring brought luck: they found a plot — six sotkas with a small house, a well, and young apple trees. The owners were in a hurry to sell. Tamara and Viktor decided immediately. Within a week, the deal was done, documents in hand.
On the first weekend at the dacha, they made plans: where the garden beds would go, where flowers and swings would be. Returning home tired but happy, they felt their dream had come true.
Tamara called Ludmila to share the joy. An hour later, Valentina Stepanovna also called, unusually enthusiastic: “I must come see it!”
On Wednesday, Valentina Stepanovna arrived with a bag of groceries. “Let’s celebrate the purchase!” she said, asking about every little detail.
1. First Steps on the New Land: Spring arrived early. The snow melted in March, and by April, the soil had warmed. Every weekend, Viktor and Tamara went to the dacha, carrying tools, seedlings, and seeds.
The morning air was crisp, smelling of melted snow, and evenings were painted with crimson sunsets. Tamara walked the plot in rubber boots, thinking, “Is this really ours? Real… our own…” Her hands quickly got used to the spade, her back to bending. Fatigue from work here felt pleasant.
Viktor lined the shed with new boards and repaired the gate. In the house, they replaced the old curtains with ones Tamara had sewn. Gradually, the small house turned into a cozy retreat.
Neighboring children came to see the new owners. The elderly neighbor, Aunt Nina, offered advice: where to dig beds, how to plant potatoes, which well had cleaner water.
— You’re doing wonderfully, — she said approvingly, looking around. — Doing it all with your own hands is the most valuable thing.
Tamara thanked her and took notes. Each day, the plot felt more and more like home.
2. “New Visitors”: Valentina Stepanovna visited the dacha for the first time at the end of April. Viktor drove to pick her up and helped carry her bag.— Well then, show me your kingdom, — she said, stepping onto the plot.
At first, she was quiet, but seeing the neat beds, apple trees, and small house, she unexpectedly brightened.— How fresh and beautiful it is here! — she admitted, walking along the path. — And the rooms are so cozy!
Tamara was surprised. Her mother-in-law seemed transformed. Not long ago grumbling, now one compliment followed another.— Maybe I’ll come in the summer with the grandkids — she added. — They’ll enjoy the fresh air.
Tamara smiled, though a small worry stirred inside. She had dreamed of her private retreat, and now her mother-in-law was making plans for the dacha too.
3. Warm Evenings and Tough Days: While Viktor and Tamara worked the land, city life piled up. Tamara returned late from her evening job, Viktor came back tired from moving work.— Tamara, maybe we should slow down? — he said once. — I worry about you. Energy isn’t endless.
— It’s okay, — she replied, hugging him. — The important thing is that we’re moving toward our dream. I’m happy when we’re there.They supported each other. Sometimes they argued about small things: where to plant currants, what color to paint the house. But in the evening, they reconciled over tea.
Valentina Stepanovna called more often, asking: “Do you have a stove? Planning a sauna? Have you met the neighbors?” — hinting she’d like a key to the dacha.
4. “Our Place”: By summer, the plot was green. Radishes, dill, and tomatoes sprouted in the beds. Tamara rejoiced over every sprout as if it were a child. Viktor built a swing on the apple tree.
Valentina Stepanovna visited regularly — first for a day, then staying overnight. She helped with weeding, but also gave orders: “This bed here, that one there.”— Mom, this is our dacha, — Viktor gently reminded her. — We decide.
— I just want to help, — the mother-in-law justified. — I have more experience. Tamara tried not to argue, but sometimes in the evening, she confided to Viktor:— Viktor, I dreamed of our own corner, now I feel like a guest. Your mother decides everything.
— Be patient, Tamara. She’ll calm down soon, — he replied.
