In the photo, four bills were spread across the table. Mom had carefully arranged them like a fan on the kitchen table so that every amount was clearly visible.
Membership fee — 11,200 rubles.
Road repair contribution — 2,800.
Electricity — 1,340.
And a tax notice for almost 2,000 more.
Under the photo, she had written:
“Please pay these by Friday. After that, late fees will start adding up.”
There was just one problem.
That dacha had not belonged to Mom since February.
She had given it to my younger sister, Lena.
I Had Been the One Taking Care of the Dacha
The property was old. Six hundred square meters, a small wooden house with a veranda, and an apple tree growing beside the fence. Its branches had been reaching over toward the neighbors for years. Every spring, we promised ourselves we would trim them, and every spring, somehow, it got postponed again.
After Dad died, Mom went there less and less often.
Little by little, all the small responsibilities ended up with me.
I paid the membership fees. I submitted the electricity meter readings. I found a repairman when the roof started leaking. In autumn, I shut off the water. In spring, I opened the house, swept the dry leaves from the veranda, and checked whether the walls had become damp.
Lena came a few times each summer. Usually with her children, for the weekend. They would barbecue, pick apples, and sometimes stay overnight.
I never kept track of who did what.
It was Mom’s dacha, so I helped.
That was why I was surprised when Mom told me one evening:
“I’ve decided to put the property in Lena’s name.”
I stared at her.
“Just Lena’s?”
“She needs it more. The children should spend their summers outdoors.”
I didn’t argue.
I had a son too, although he was already grown. But I wasn’t going to start a fight with my sister over property.
It was Mom’s property. She had every right to decide what to do with it.
There was just one thing I found difficult to forget.
For years, she had always said:
“The dacha will belong to both of you one day.”
The New Locks
Two weeks later, the paperwork was completed.
Lena called me herself and excitedly explained that she wanted to get rid of the old sofa, put a small gazebo in the yard, and buy a pool for the children.
Then, almost as an afterthought, she added:
“We’re going to change the locks too. Just let us know ahead of time if you’re planning to come. We’ll have our things there.”
I paused.
“Let you know ahead of time?”
“Yes. So we know.”
The next day, I gathered my keys and took them to Mom.
“Why are you giving them back?” she asked, surprised.
“They’re changing the locks anyway.”
Mom looked at me for a few seconds, then silently put the keys in the drawer near the entrance.
During the summer, photos started appearing in the family chat.
A new table on the veranda.
A swimming pool in the yard.
Flowers in huge pots.
Later, Lena wrote that she had hired someone to mow the grass behind the house.
No one invited me to the dacha.
And I didn’t ask to be invited.
But Somehow, the Bills Were Still Mine
In September, Mom sent me another photo.
Four bills.
Just like before.
In the past, she often asked me to pay them through the banking app. She always had trouble with something on her phone: she would forget a password or close the wrong screen. I would pay the bills, and she would reimburse me in cash later.
Sometimes not immediately.
But I never made an issue of it.
This time, however, Mom was no longer the owner.
I wrote:
“Send them to Lena. She needs to pay them now.”
Her reply came almost instantly:
“She doesn’t have much money right now.”
“Then she can pay them later.”
“They’ll charge late fees.”
“And why is that my problem?”
Mom called me.
“Is it really so difficult for you to pay them? You’ve always done it.”
“When the property belonged to you.”
“What difference does it make whose name is on the paperwork? It’s still a family dacha.”
I reminded her about the new locks.
About how I was now expected to ask permission before even going there.
Mom immediately became angry.
“Don’t mix the two things together!”
“I’m not mixing anything. You’re sending me bills for a property I no longer have keys to.”
“It’s just a little help!”
“I’ve helped enough. But I’m no longer the owner.”
I ended the conversation.
Then I forwarded every photo of the bills to Lena. I also sent her the chairman’s phone number and the latest electricity meter reading I still had saved on my phone.
She replied that evening:
“You could pay them for now. I’ll give you the money back later.”
“Pay them yourself. Everything you need is written there.”
“I’m getting the kids ready for school. We have so many expenses right now.”
I read the message and put my phone away.
The Conversation That Finally Settled Everything
The next day, I called the chairman of the dacha association. I only wanted to know why the bills were still being issued in Mom’s name.
The answer surprised me.
According to their records, Mom was still listed as the owner.
“The new owner needs to bring the documents and submit an application,” the chairman explained. “The electricity account also needs to be transferred.”
The tax notice was for the previous year, so that one really did belong to Mom.
The other bills, however, were current expenses related to the property.
I explained everything in the family chat.
Mom replied:
“You could have simply helped instead of turning this into some accounting project.”
Lena reacted to her message with a heart.
On Saturday, Mom invited both of us over for lunch.
The bills were lying on the table beside the breadbox.
“Let’s just finish this already,” Mom sighed. “We shouldn’t fight over money.”
I picked up the tax notice and placed it in front of Mom.
“This one is yours. The rest are Lena’s.”
Lena didn’t even touch the papers.
“I didn’t get the dacha so I could immediately start paying all the bills.”
“These aren’t old debts. They’re electricity, membership fees, and road repairs.”
“You used to pay them.”
I looked at her.
“I used to have the keys.”
The room went completely silent for several seconds.
Mom finally looked at me.
“You’re only doing this because you’re jealous of your sister.”
I took a slow breath.
“No, Mom. You decided to give her the dacha. I never argued with that. But once she became the owner, the responsibilities that come with owning it became hers too.”
“I had every right to give my property to whoever I wanted!” Mom snapped.
“I know. And that’s exactly why I’m no longer responsible for the bills.”
Lena turned toward the window.
I stood up, put on my coat, and left.
The bills remained on the table.
A week later, Lena went to the association office, submitted the necessary documents, and finally transferred the ownership records.
Later, she wrote in the family chat:
“What day do I need to submit the electricity meter reading?”
I sent her the chairman’s phone number.
That was the last time I helped with anything related to the dacha.
Mom never sent me another bill.
And strangely enough, I felt much more at peace.
The dacha was no longer my responsibility.
Finally, the keys and the bills belonged to the same person.
