“Come in, daughter. I just made pancakes. Your favorite.”
The kitchen greeted Marina with the smell of vanilla and hot oil. Her mother calmly placed plates on the table, arranged cups, and poured jam into a crystal bowl. Nothing in her demeanor suggested that anything significant had happened the previous day.
“Mom, Larissa wrote to me about the dacha,” Marina began, sitting down.
“Oh, you found out.” Tamara Sergeyevna poured him some tea. “I was going to tell you myself. I think I made the right decision.”
—Was that the right decision? Dad built that house!
“Dad hasn’t been here in five years. And Kirill needs a place to live.”
— Yes. He rents an apartment with Ania.
Mother sighed and put a spoonful of jam on the pancake.
“You don’t understand what Kirill went through. After Lidia died, I became almost like family to him. He has no home, nowhere to return to. And the house by the lake stands empty.”
