Daria Dontsovazhaba with a wallet. Read e-books online without registration. electronic library papyrus. read from mobile. listen to audiobooks. fb2 reader Toad with wallet

How many times has Dasha Vasilyeva gotten into trouble, but this one was worse than others. Without thinking about the bad, she and her whole family came to visit her friends - Andrei Litvinsky and his new wife Vika. Although Dasha also knew her for a thousand years. Martha, Andrei’s former wife, died in the mountains not long ago. And now, after drinking tea from the new silver service purchased by Vika, Dasha and her daughter-in-law almost died. Andrei died from poisoning with an unknown poison. Vika was arrested and accused of murdering her husband. But Dasha does not believe in her guilt - after all, her friend has been waiting for happiness for so long and has only just found it. A lover of private investigation decided to find the person from whom the set was purchased. But as soon as she contacted a participant in this drama, he became a corpse. And there is nothing to complain about - everyone died as a result of accidents. Or is this a clever staging?..

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Chapter 1

Finding a husband is an art, keeping him is a profession. By God, I don’t understand why some women moan: “We can’t get married!” Ladies, it’s a piece of cake to get a guy to go with you to the registry office, but then, when Mendelssohn’s march died down and you returned home from honeymoon from sunny Turkey or a sanatorium near Moscow... This is where it all begins. For the most part, not very pleasant discoveries await you: hubby, it turns out, snores, demands hot food and ironed shirts. It’s also good if you live separately from your mother-in-law and she comes to visit only on weekends. And if you are forced to share the kitchen with her! This is out of the question, my advice to you: use every opportunity and run away from your mother who passionately loves everyone. You will somehow figure it out with your husband, but it will be much more difficult to deal with his mother, who only wants the best for you. One of my mothers-in-law, I won’t say here, who consistently loudly declared:

– I am always on Dasha’s side, I adore this girl, she is my sunshine, my joy, my fish. And I don’t care that she absolutely doesn’t know how to cook, iron, wash, and wipes antique furniture with a wet rag, “killing” the priceless polish. By God, I don't worry at all when she breaks Chinese porcelain figurines and drops a cup of coffee grounds on a beige Persian rug that costs... oh, don't talk about money! After all, it’s not they who are the most important, but the person. I adore Dashenka, smack, smack, smack!

You may consider me an ungrateful bastard, but on the third smack I began to feel nauseous and nervous itching. Feeling like the last reptile, after a couple of months of living next to my loving mother-in-law, I began to break out in large pimples at the sight of her. Of course, you will never believe it, but I have discovered an allergy to my mother-in-law. I could only be near her if I had eaten up to my throat with suprastin.

Then came the divorce, during which the husband’s mother behaved simply ideally, mercilessly scolding her son and doing her best to support her daughter-in-law. In the end, my son Kesha and I ended up in Medvedkovo again. And my ex-mother-in-law immediately transformed into my girlfriend... I can’t say anything bad about her, I received a lot of advice from her and gained worldly wisdom, I love her completely sincerely, she was a dear guest at all my next weddings and is now visiting Lozhkino. But... as soon as I hear her high-pitched, absolutely girlish, languidly lisping voice from the hallway, I begin to experience Quincke's edema.

However, sometimes life without relatives does not guarantee you happiness. Very many women, about two or three years after the wedding, sadly state: why the hell did I rush? Maybe I should have waited and chosen more?

However, you shouldn’t delay the selection process too much, otherwise it will turn out like with my friend Vika Stolyarova. In those years when we were studying at the institute, she defiantly wrinkled her nose at the sight of any young man.

“Ugh,” she muttered, “freak!”

We all got married, divorced, gave birth to children, but Vikulya was looking for her “prince.” When she hit the scales, well, let's say, ahem, over thirty, it became clear that she was a real classic old maid. No one could have predicted that she would finally marry, moreover, a very wealthy, pleasant in all respects, Andryusha Litvinsky. This happened a year ago. And I introduced them. Not long ago Andryusha buried his wife Martha and became very sad. We tried our best to entertain him and constantly invited him to visit. On one of his visits, he encountered Vika. Who would have thought that they would have a crazy romance? Two adults completely lost their heads and behaved like crazy teenagers. It all ended with a magnificent wedding. Vika moved to Andryushka’s country mansion and began to selflessly take care of the housework: she planted flowers in the yard, and made major renovations to the house, including moving the walls. And today we all: me, Zaika, Kesha, Alexander Mikhailovich and Manya are going to visit them, so to speak, for a housewarming party. Although this cannot really be considered a housewarming party, rather a feast to mark the completion of the renovation.

We got to a place called “Magic Forest” without any special adventures. Andryusha built a mansion here seven or eight years ago, when his business suddenly took off and began to generate a consistently high income.

- Well, why the hell is this necessary? – she whined, sitting in my living room. – Construction, dirt, complete hemorrhoids. They only stuck their heads out of poverty.

“But then there’s so much pleasure,” I tried to convince her, “ Fresh air, silence, no neighbors, and you don’t need to walk the dogs, just push them out into the garden and that’s it!

– I don’t have dogs! – Martha snapped. – Couldn’t the money have been spent differently!

- And in the summer outside the city it’s a miracle! - Manya climbed in. - The air is delicious! Can't compare with Moscow.

“It’s good in the mountains in the summer,” Martha said dreamily, “to go skiing.”

Masha grimaced:

- Well, Aunt Martha, that’s what you said! In the summer, I want to swim and run barefoot in the forest.

“To each his own,” she explained, “I want to go skiing or go with climbers, that’s mine!”

What is true is true, from a young age Martha loved to wander around the mountains with a backpack, sing songs with a guitar and spend the night in a tent. Personally, this doesn't appeal to me. Mosquitoes hover around, the toilet is under the Christmas tree, and you have to wash your face from an iron mug. Besides, you need to sleep in a bag, in a cramped space, but I like to settle down on a double bed, it’s spacious.

But Martha did not pay attention to the difficulties and always tried to escape on a hike. They had a terrible fight with Andryushka. Litvinsky expected that his wife would sit at home and give birth to children. But she preferred the mountains, and they never had an heir.

“Maybe it’s good that there are no children,” Andryushka sighed once, when he came to visit me, “Martha climbed to some peak again, imagine what kind of mother she would make, pure tears.”

I remained silent, sometimes the appearance of a baby does wonders for a woman, but why talk in vain? The Litvinskys have no children and, given their age, never will.

Then wealth fell on Andryushka, Marta immediately quit her job and settled at home. At first the husband was happy, then he began to complain.

“You see,” he explained to me, “I’m crawling home neither alive nor dead.” I’m tumbling around with clients all day long; the tourism business is a nerve-wracking business. I crawl to the bed and fall, I don’t even have the strength to eat, and Marta is offended, they say, I don’t communicate with her, I don’t notice her, I’ve stopped loving her... And all my passion is gone. Eh, it’s still bad that there is no child, I wish I could raise him now. Maybe we should buy her a dog, what do you think?

I remained silent again, not wanting to judge Martha. In my opinion, she absolutely should not have left the service. Okay, I agree, the school she taught at all her life. German, it was a nervous place, but once she was home, she became homesick and began throwing hysterics at Andryushka for fun.

After some time the situation stabilized. The Litvinskys came to a consensus. Andrei sent his wife to the mountains twice a year, and the rest of the time she peacefully cooked soup and disappeared in front of the TV.

A new surge of scandals began with the construction of the house. Martha categorically refused to move, as she put it, to the village. She put forward a variety of arguments, sometimes ridiculous.

“Magic Forest,” Martha was indignant, nervously breaking her cigarette, “what a stupid name!” Yes, I tell no one, everyone immediately starts laughing: “Oh, it’s hilarious, where are Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs!”

“Well, the name is the tenth thing,” I tried to reason with her, “our Lozhkino doesn’t sound so hot either!” Its people call it Vilkino, Kastryulkino and Kofemolkino. Do not pay attention.

- So what, should I sit there forever? – Martha was angry.

- Why? – I was surprised.

- So there is no metro nearby and there is no train, by the way! - she hissed.

“Andryushka will buy you a car,” I retorted.

- I don’t know how to drive!

- You'll learn.

- Don't want! – Martha barked.

- But why?

And then she finally called the real reason:

– I don’t want to live on a collective farm.

All! No arguments that the cottage community is not a farm at all had any effect on her.

Marta completely sabotaged the construction of the mansion, did not take part in the layout of the rooms, which her husband suggested to her with incredible enthusiasm, never visited the site and responded to all Andryushkin’s advances like: “Martha, what kind of furniture should we put in the living room?” - answered gloomily:

– I love it, I don’t care.

Finally the villa was ready, and Andryushka started moving. Martha, pale with anger, stated categorically:

– No, I’ll stay here, in the city apartment.

Such a war has broken out that Desert Storm will seem like children's games of Cossack robbers. Andryushka slammed the door and shouted:

- Divorce!

Moreover, he declared with a vengeful fire in his eyes:

- Okay, dear wife, if you stand so firmly on your own, have it your way. Live here alone, and I'll go out of town. Moscow is killing me, crushing me and sausageing me. So it's a divorce! But, keep in mind, I won’t pay you any alimony, go back to school, teach Mitrofanov!

Here Martha got scared and with a sour face moved to the “Magic Forest”. Once in the cottage community, she didn’t lift a finger to somehow decorate her life. Dozens of women, unable to control themselves, buy cute, completely unnecessary, but so soul-warming trinkets: all sorts of ceramic figurines, funny cups, candles, prints, bedspreads, napkins. Martha did not purchase anything like that. She didn’t plant a single flower, didn’t buy a single pillow, she only winced when Andryushka opened the window in the evening and exclaimed:

- Martha! What air! You can drink it!

Litvinsky still felt some discomfort from the fact that he “broke” his wife, so he did not argue when Marta was soaping herself up in the mountains. After moving to a country mansion, she began to go on the “trail” four or even five times a year. Andryushka just nodded:

- Go, my dear, have fun, there’s no point in rotting on the telly.

Once, having come to us and drinking a small amount of cognac, a friend opened up.

“Yes,” he said, downing the contents of the fifth wine glass, “let her go to her mountains, although what’s good about them?”

I silently poured him his sixth Hennessy. Andryushka should have married a quiet aunt who loved to tinker with flower beds and beds, and Martha would have liked a regular at the Grushinsky art song festivals as her husband. Such a bearded man, in dirty jeans, with a guitar behind his back and a notebook of his own poems in his pocket. Then the Litvinskys would have been happy, alone, they shouldn’t have gotten married, they just tormented each other. What kept Marta close to Andrei was clear: money. However, she did not hide it.

“Andrei is impossible,” she told me angrily, “the older he gets, the stupider he gets, but, alas, I have to admit: I can’t live without him, and in the event of a divorce I’ll have to forget about trips to the mountains once and for all.” You can’t go to a mountain resort on a teacher’s salary, alone ski boots cost a year's salary.

Why Andrei put up with all of Martha’s tricks, why he didn’t divorce her - at first I didn’t understand. Between you and me, Martha was by no means a beauty, she didn’t know how to earn money, and she was an ugly housewife. Her food always burned, and until a cook appeared in their family, Andryushka ate mostly scrambled eggs and sandwiches. What tied him to his wife? After all, their children didn’t sit on benches either. The spouses fought like cats and dogs, although our Fifa and Klepa are much nicer to Bundy, Snap, Cherry and others than Marta and Andrey. But someone else’s life is in the dark; naturally, I never spoke to him or her about this topic. In their family, I was more attracted to the man, but I never let Martha understand this. However, then I found out that he was keeping Andryushka near his wife, but more on that later.

A little over two years ago, Martha went to the mountains, as always, to ski. As I remember now, it was the first month of spring. We celebrated her on the second of March; on the eighth, Andryushka decided to congratulate his wife on the holiday and started calling her on her mobile phone. By the evening I was worried, the receiver was saying monotonously: “The subscriber is unavailable or is outside the network coverage area.”

True, at first he thought that Marta simply forgot to charge her mobile phone, but in the morning, when the indifferent voice of the machine came from the phone again, Andrei became truly worried. Somewhere around lunchtime he received a call from a place whose name seemed to come straight from the pages of a literary encyclopedia - Wuthering Heights, the name of the village in the mountains where Martha went skiing. A stammering female voice reported that Mrs. Litvinskaya was caught in an avalanche on March 7 at about one o'clock in the afternoon. Now specialists are searching for it, but many tons of snow have come down from the mountains, crushing everything. The thickness of the cover is enormous; it is almost impossible to hope that Martha is alive.

Naturally, Andryushka instantly flew off to the mountains. For a whole week he and the rescuers tried to do something, then returned to Moscow. Martha's body was not found, she remained there forever, in her beloved mountains. I think if she knew where her death awaited, she would be happy.

At first, Andryushka wandered around like a shadow, completely lost, but then he met Vika.

That's who was the complete opposite of Martha. Firstly, Vikulya adored nature, flowers, birds and animals. She selflessly took up landscaping work on the property, placed two dogs in the mansion and started an aquarium. Secondly, her whole life’s dream was to live outside the city. She also rolled up her sleeves and remodeled the house in her own way. Andryushka has blossomed, rejuvenated and looks indecently happy. He and his wife go for walks, holding hands, and admiring the beauty of nature. Vika left labor activity, she used to teach English and Latin at a medical school, retrained as a secretary and now helps Andryushka in business, sits in his travel agency, works with clients.

- Look, they have a new entrance.

Zayushka slowed down at the bright green iron gate and began to press the horn. They slowly, as if reluctantly, opened, we rolled into the yard, and I was unable to hold back my exclamation of admiration: there were flowers everywhere as far as the eye could see.

A couple of minutes later, a cheerfully smiling Andryushka dragged us around the renovated house.

“Here, look,” he said briskly, “first there’s this vestibule, here you can take off your street shoes, then the hallway.” Nice mirror, huh? And this is the wardrobe. So, let’s move on, the hall, then the living room, don’t stumble, we “drowned” it, now three steps lead here. Kitchen-dining room! Cool aquariums? My idea! I didn’t want to put up a wall, but I needed to delimit the space.

- Oh, what fish! - Bunny was delighted. - Especially the yellow one over there! Well, cool! Little lip!

Andryushka laughed happily and dragged us first to the bathhouse, which was right there, then to the second floor.

Vika, while her husband was showing off the bedrooms, office, library and attic, was busy in the kitchen. Judging by the mind-blowing smells, a Lucullan feast awaited us.

Loudly expressing delight, everyone sat down at the table and began to eat. I must admit: the house has become better, before I felt uncomfortable here, the dark blue wallpaper, which the designer recommended to Andryushka in an unkind hour, especially put pressure on my psyche.

Now they were torn off, the walls were painted light beige, curtains were hung on the windows to match them, and immediately it became joyful, cheerful, sunny.

- Vikusya! – the owner caught himself. -What about your bow? Where is he? Well that one, sweetie! What didn’t you serve?

- I forgot! – the hostess picked up. “I’m running to the pantry now.”

Having uttered the last phrase, Vika jumped up and ran away. The men drank once, twice. The bunny also took a sip of cognac.

“Vikusya,” Andryushka shouted, “where are you?” Come on quickly!

I got up.

- She doesn’t hear where your storage room is?

“Sit, I’ll call you,” he waved him off and, stepping heavily, walked down the corridor.

“It’s beautiful here now, somehow calm,” muttered Kesha.

“Yeah,” agreed Bunny, “the hysteria is gone.” Vika did the right thing by painting everything a light color.

“It seems to me that she did it on purpose,” Manya drawled.

“A subtle observation,” Kesha laughed. – If a person makes repairs, he specifically chooses paint.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Masha pouted.

- What about? – Bunny asked sarcastically. - Do me a favor and explain.

“It seems to me,” said Manya, “that Vika decided to drive out Aunt Martha’s spirit from here!”

The bunny dropped her fork, and I was surprised, it looks like Maruska is right, the house has become completely different, as if deliberately different.

“Lord,” Andrey’s cry was heard, “no!” Help!

We looked at each other and rushed to the call.

The owner stood on the threshold of a small room.

- What's happened? - Kesha exclaimed.

Andryushka silently pointed his finger. I involuntarily glanced in that direction and squealed. Two female legs in multi-colored tights, popularly called “dolchiki,” dangled in the air.

Chapter 2

“Lord,” Kesha muttered, retreating into the corridor, “what is this?”

The bunny screamed and pressed herself against the wall.

“Vika,” Manya whispered, turning green, “these are her little pieces, she was just in them, and now she’s hanging.”

I had the feeling that there was a viscous swamp all around. The sounds practically disappeared, but for some reason the eyes did not cease to clearly perceive the world, they were chained to limbs hanging limply from the ceiling, incredibly long and somehow knobby. The legs looked strange, after a second I realized what was going on - they had no feet, the lobes at the bottom ended in stumps.

- Stop screaming! - Alexander Mikhailovich barked and shook Bunny.

She choked on her scream and clung to the colonel.

“It’s... hanging there,” she whispered.

“Well, it’s hanging,” Degtyarev confirmed somehow indifferently, “let it swing.”

I almost lost consciousness from such indifference. Of course, the colonel encounters corpses every day at work, he has acquired immunity to such a spectacle, but we have not! And then, how can he be like this, standing next to the hanged Vika?

-What are you yelling about? – Degtyarev asked.

“V-v-vika,” Andryusha stuttered, “she...

“I suppose he can’t hear you,” the colonel shrugged, “let’s go to the dining room, I haven’t eaten properly yet.”

It was too much! I jumped up to Alexander Mikhailovich and angrily declared:

- How can you! About food! Next to the corpse!

- Whose? – Degtyarev chuckled.

Zaya raised her trembling hand and pointed her finger at the lobes:

- You can not see? Here!

- And what?

My patience has run out:

– We must call the police immediately!

- For what? – the colonel jumped up.

- Degtyarev! - Kesha howled. – Now stop acting like a fool! Don’t you see, Andrey is feeling bad!

Litvinsky actually leaned his whole body onto the doorframe.

“I just don’t understand,” the colonel frowned, “what are we talking about?”

“Vika hanged herself,” Manya blurted out, “hanging there!”

- Where? – Alexander Mikhailovich widened his eyes.

“On the hook,” whispered Bunny, “there are the legs.”

“Vikins,” I barked, “in colored tights!”

Suddenly the colonel burst out laughing, entered the closet and pulled one leg that was swaying in the semi-darkness.

I closed my eyes. No, it’s not for nothing that they say that a profession leaves an indelible mark on a person. Many dentists become sadists, and cops become criminals... Well, colonel! How can he behave like this!

- Mother! – Manya squealed. - Onion!!!

I opened my eyes and gasped. Empty tights were dangling from the ceiling, and a mountain of onions rose on the floor.

- Why are you standing here? – Vika’s voice came from behind.

“There,” Andryushka muttered, slowly turning pink, “there are your stockings!”

“Well, yes,” Vika calmly confirmed and clasped her hands. - Which of you scattered all the onions? Answer, Herods! Why did they pull the ligaments?

“I read in a magazine, there is such a publication called “Your Garden,” Vika explained, “it was written there: if you want to preserve the onion harvest, put it in thick tights, hang it from the ceiling, and you can rest assured, all year long.” sag. And I have an unusual variety, you sow it in winter, in May the heads are already so juicy and sweet, like an apple. So I decided to follow the advice. Yesterday I spent all day stuffing and hanging tights, but you tore them all, now pack them up, and I’ll go get new tights. There are a lot of you here, so you’ll stuff the onions in, and be careful, place them one head at a time in a row, okay?

With these words she left.

“Luk,” Andryushka muttered, clutching his heart, “it’s good that it’s day outside and you’re nearby.” If I went here alone in the evening, I would definitely die.

“It’s a nightmare,” Bunny picked up.

“I instantly realized something was wrong,” Kesha said.

“And I,” Manya climbed in, “my legs were too long.”

I wanted to say that I immediately noticed the incomprehensible absence of feet, but then Alexander Mikhailovich giggled disgustingly:

- Well, you give it! Did you get infected from Daria? It would be nice if she screamed: hanged man, hanged man! Quite in her spirit! But you, Kesha! By God, I was surprised!

Arkady began to make excuses:

“It’s twilight here, Bunny is screaming, the mother is crying, so I couldn’t figure it out right away.”

– I didn’t even think about crying! – I was indignant. – I just wanted to say that the legs are hanging without feet.

- Hold it! – Vika shouted, waving a package of rustling paper. - Why do you look like that? What happened?

Andryushka silently hugged his wife.

- I love you.

- Maybe I should take your temperature? – Vika was wary. - Looks like you're starting to get sick! Let's not stand around, collect onions...

We squatted down and got to work, listening to Vikuli’s non-stop instructions:

– Smoother, not so tight, don’t crumple the bow.

Then Kesha hung up the bundle, and everyone went to the dining room to drink coffee.

The cake that was served for tea is impossible to describe. Three layers of sponge cake layered with jam, whipped cream and grated nuts. The top of the masterpiece was decorated with fruits arranged in an intricate pattern.

- And what confectionery shop sells such a miracle? – I exclaimed, swallowing a huge bite.

“You’re offending me, boss,” Vika laughed and put another good slice on my plate, “you can’t buy that!”

“Are you saying that you baked the cake yourself?” – I was amazed, quickly finishing the second portion.

“Nothing tricky,” the skilled cook shrugged, “first you bake the cakes, each separately, then you make the filling.” Would you like me to give you the recipe?

“No,” I quickly answered, “thanks, no need, I’d rather feast on you.”

“Lazy girl,” Vika chuckled, “it will only take three hours to cook.”

I silently reached for another piece. That's why I don't like jumping around the stove with pots. You stomp around all day, but you eat what you’ve prepared in ten minutes, and there’s no effect. We devoured a delicious lunch, and after a couple of hours we were hungry again.

“I’ll pour you some tea now into amazing cups,” Vika fussed, “I bought it this morning.”

- Yes? – Andryushka was surprised. – You didn’t tell me anything!

“Surprise,” Vika drawled, “you’ll like it!” “With a magician’s gesture, she opened the cupboard doors.

The service was made of silver with gilding. Graceful cups, an oil dish - all with ornaments.

“It looks like it’s not new,” said Bunny.

“It’s an antique,” the hostess declared proudly, “it’s from the eighteenth century, or maybe it was made even earlier.”

– Where did you get it! – Andryushka shook his head. – Very elegant work, pleasing to the eye, give it to me!

And he began to twirl the milk jug in his hands.

– The pattern on all cups is different! - Manya exclaimed. - Look, I have hunting, Bunny has fishing, and what about you, little guy?

“My ladies and their gentlemen are dancing,” I said.

“Probably cups from different sets,” Manya did not calm down.

“No,” Vika smiled, “they used to do this often.” This service is called “Rest in the Village”. Do you see that on the sugar bowl there is a carriage with horses, and on the butter dish there is a house with a garden? And there is an ornament around the edges, everywhere, on all objects there are leaves.

“It’s an expensive thing,” Kesha declared with the air of an expert.

“I got it for almost nothing,” Vika answered joyfully, “for only three hundred dollars.”

- Are you kidding! - Bunny jumped up. “There’s about two kilograms of silver here, and there’s also work.”

“I was just lucky,” Vika explained, “you know how much I love dishes, especially antique ones!” But you, Zaya, are right, the prices at auctions are simply outrageous, I went a couple of times, but to no avail, there was always someone richer. And in the stores there is only rubbish on display, antique dealers are cunning, what’s better is sent to auction or regular customers are called... So, this morning I went to our market, not far from here, near the Moscow Ring Road, we take cottage cheese from the peasants, sour cream, butter. I walk along the rows and see an old lady standing with a cup.

Vika, a truly passionate lover of dishes, became interested, came closer and gasped. The granny was holding in her hands an elegant little silver thing, clearly rare and very expensive.

- How much do you want for a trinket? – Vikusha asked, feigning indifference.

- And how much would you give! - God's dandelion cleared his throat. – Wouldn’t you mind half a thousand?

Vikusha almost said that five hundred bucks was still a bit expensive for one cup, so give it back for three hundred. But then it dawned on her that grandma wanted five hundred in rubles.

- Is it expensive for you? – the old woman understood the silence of the potential buyer in her own way. “So be it, I’ll give in for four hundred.” Don't doubt it, you see the sample? If you want, take the saucer and go over there to jewelry shop, they will confirm: it is silver, without deception. This is our family heirloom, but poverty has taken its toll, so I’m selling it.

Vikusha happily handed the money to her grandmother. She, carefully hiding the banknotes, asked:

– Or maybe you’d like the whole service?

- Which? – asked Vika.

“So the cup is from the set,” the old lady explained, “there are five more at home.”

Delighted by the unexpected luck, Vika put the pensioner in her car, drove her to the indicated address in the village and saw a beauty in the buffet. The old woman, who had little understanding of the value of the set, asked for three hundred bucks for it, and Vika gave it with great joy.

- Well, let's try tea from these cups? – Vika rubbed her hands. “The first time I saw such a service was recently in an antique store, but it costs ten thousand bucks, so I didn’t buy it.” And here is such enchanting luck. Eh, it’s a pity, there’s no sugar scoop, it looks like it’s lost.

“And what’s good about old dishes,” Manya grimaced, “I don’t understand it!” It’s better to buy a new one, why drink from bowls that strangers have used? Ugh, I think this is unhygienic.

“I washed them thoroughly,” Vika got angry.

“It doesn’t matter,” Manya insisted.

To make up for the girl’s tactlessness, I quickly said:

- Vikulya, pour me some tea or coffee.

“Coffee doesn’t fit in these cups,” Vika muttered.

- Why? – Zaya was surprised.

“And my grandmother warned me: they are only for tea, coffee spoils them.”

And she rattled the dishes in the buffet, elegant porcelain cups appeared.

“I’ll pour some coffee here,” Vika said, “so, who wants what?”

“I need tea, naturally,” Andryushka rubbed his hands carnivorously, “I can’t stand coffee.”

“And some tea for me,” Bunny and I answered in unison.

“I want coffee,” Manya said quickly.

I suppressed a smile. Maruska never drinks this drink, she actively doesn’t like it, she just doesn’t want to touch antiques.

“I think I’ll have some coffee too,” Kesha drawled.

I felt completely funny. Disgusted to the point of pain, Arkashka chose the same tactics as Manyunya.

Degtyarev refused both.

“Later,” said the colonel, “I ate so much that nothing would fit into me.”

We went home around midnight. A cavalcade of cars pulled onto the highway. Kesha, having seated Manya next to him, as always, pressed the gas and rushed far ahead. Alexander Mikhailovich, the owner of a black Zaporozhets, is hopelessly behind; he does not feel too confident behind the wheel. The bunny silently taxied along the Novo-Rizhskaya highway. I sat next to her, yawning and fighting sleep.

Suddenly Zaya slowed down.

- What are you doing? – I woke up.

“I feel sick,” she muttered and rushed out of the car.

At that same second I felt a pain in my stomach, then something cloudy and heavy came to my throat. I had to run after Bunny.

About ten minutes later we somehow came to our senses, washed ourselves, pouring water from a bottle on each other’s hands, wiped ourselves with paper handkerchiefs and returned to the car.

“It’s an interesting thing,” Olga muttered, “why did we get caught up in this?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered, feeling something disgusting rising in my throat again.

The bunny looked at me, I looked at her, and at that same second we rushed towards the ditch again. To be honest, I haven't felt this bad for a long time. My head was spinning, my legs were trembling, cold sweat was flowing down my back, and a hot hedgehog with needles sticking out in different directions was tossing and turning in my stomach.

“Oh my God,” Bunny moaned, collapsing on the seat, “I’m dying!”

I had the same feeling. The mobile phone came to life in my purse.

“Music,” Manya yelled, “where are you?”

“Still in New Riga,” I whispered, “at the thirty-fifth kilometer.”

- What happened, are you broken?

“Yes,” I answered barely audibly and leaned on Bunny.

She leaned back in her chair and tried to pull the blanket we used to cover Bundy in the car over herself.

“I’m cold, I’m cold,” she babbled, “she’s shaking all over.”

I, too, began to feel chills, and I decided to turn on the heater, but instead of the heater lever, I pointed my finger at the radio. “This is love,” came from the speaker, “which makes you rich without money, this is the love that you once read about in books.”

“Turn it off,” Bunny wheezed, “I beg you.”

But I couldn’t move my hand; my fingers weighed a hundred kilos each.

“Give me the bag,” Bunny asked barely audibly, “take it out of the glove compartment.”

- I can not.

- I feel sick, hurry up, give it to me.

- I can not.

- Now I’m going to dirty the salon.

- Nonsense.

The bunny tried to bend over and failed. In complete despair, I realized that I could not help her, it was as if I was paralyzed. A fine black net shook before my eyes, and mosquitoes sang thinly in my ears. The last thing I saw before losing consciousness was the face of Alexander Mikhailovich with his mouth wide open. The colonel pulled open the car doors, Zaya began to fall at his feet, and then the light went dark.

Finding a husband is an art, keeping him is a profession. By God, I don’t understand why some women moan: “We can’t get married!” Ladies, it’s a trifle to force a guy to go with you to the registry office, but then, when Mendelssohn’s march has died down and you return home from a honeymoon from sunny Turkey or a sanatorium near Moscow... That’s where it all begins. For the most part, not very pleasant discoveries await you: hubby, it turns out, snores, demands hot food and ironed shirts. It’s also good if you live separately from your mother-in-law and she comes to visit only on weekends. And if you are forced to share the kitchen with her! This is out of the question, my advice to you: use every opportunity and run away from your mother who passionately loves everyone. You will somehow figure it out with your husband, but it will be much more difficult to deal with his mother, who only wants the best for you. One of my mothers-in-law, I won’t say here, who consistently loudly declared:

“Ugh,” she muttered, “freak!”

We all got married, divorced, gave birth to children, but Vikulya was looking for her “prince.”

When she hit the scales, well, let's say, ahem, over thirty, it became clear that she was a real classic old maid. No one could have predicted that she would finally marry, moreover, a very wealthy, pleasant in all respects, Andryusha Litvinsky. This happened a year ago. And I introduced them. Not long ago Andryusha buried his wife Martha and became very sad. We tried our best to entertain him and constantly invited him to visit. On one of his visits, he encountered Vika. Who would have thought that they would have a crazy romance? Two adults completely lost their heads and behaved like crazy teenagers. It all ended with a magnificent wedding. Vika moved to Andryushka’s country mansion and began to selflessly take care of the housework: she planted flowers in the yard, and made major renovations to the house, including moving the walls. And today we all: me, Zaika, Kesha, Alexander Mikhailovich and Manya are going to visit them, so to speak, for a housewarming party. Although this cannot really be considered a housewarming party, rather a feast to mark the completion of the renovation.

- Well, why the hell is this necessary? – she whined, sitting in my living room. – Construction, dirt, complete hemorrhoids. They only stuck their heads out of poverty.

“But then there’s so much pleasure,” I tried to convince her, “fresh air, silence, no neighbors, and you don’t have to walk the dogs, you push them out into the garden, and that’s it!”

– I don’t have dogs! – Martha snapped. – Couldn’t the money have been spent differently!

- And in the summer outside the city it’s a miracle! - Manya climbed in. - The air is delicious! Can't compare with Moscow.

“It’s good in the mountains in the summer,” Martha said dreamily, “to go skiing.”

Masha grimaced:

- Well, Aunt Martha, that’s what you said! In the summer, I want to swim and run barefoot in the forest.

“To each his own,” she explained, “I want to go skiing or go with climbers, that’s mine!”

“Maybe it’s good that there are no children,” Andryushka sighed once, when he came to visit me, “Martha climbed to some peak again, imagine what kind of mother she would make, pure tears.”

I remained silent, sometimes the appearance of a baby does wonders for a woman, but why talk in vain? The Litvinskys have no children and, given their age, never will.

Then wealth fell on Andryushka, Marta immediately quit her job and settled at home. At first the husband was happy, then he began to complain.

I remained silent again, not wanting to judge Martha. In my opinion, she absolutely should not have left the service. Okay, I agree, the school where she taught German all her life is a nervous place, but once she was home, she became homesick and began throwing tantrums at Andryushka for fun.

A new surge of scandals began with the construction of the house. Martha categorically refused to move, as she put it, to the village. She put forward a variety of arguments, sometimes ridiculous.

“Well, the name is the tenth thing,” I tried to reason with her, “our Lozhkino doesn’t sound so hot either!” Its people call it Vilkino, Kastryulkino and Kofemolkino. Do not pay attention.

- So what, should I sit there forever? – Martha was angry.

- Why? – I was surprised.

- So there is no metro nearby and there is no train, by the way! - she hissed.

“Andryushka will buy you a car,” I retorted.

- I don’t know how to drive!

- You'll learn.

- Don't want! – Martha barked.

- But why?

And then she finally named the real reason:

– I don’t want to live on a collective farm.

All! No arguments that the cottage community is not a farm at all had any effect on her.

– I love it, I don’t care.

Finally the villa was ready, and Andryushka started moving. Martha, pale with anger, stated categorically:

– No, I’ll stay here, in the city apartment.

Such a war has broken out that Desert Storm will seem like children's games of Cossack robbers. Andryushka slammed the door and shouted:

- Divorce!

Moreover, he declared with a vengeful fire in his eyes:

- Martha! What air! You can drink it!

- Go, my dear, have fun, there’s no point in rotting on the telly.

Once, having come to us and drinking a small amount of cognac, a friend opened up.

“Yes,” he said, downing the contents of the fifth wine glass, “let her go to her mountains, although what’s good about them?”

A stammering female voice reported that Mrs. Litvinskaya was caught in an avalanche on March 7 at about one o'clock in the afternoon. Now specialists are searching for it, but many tons of snow have come down from the mountains, crushing everything. The thickness of the cover is enormous; it is almost impossible to hope that Martha is alive.

At first, Andryushka wandered around like a shadow, completely lost, but then he met Vika.

That's who was the complete opposite of Martha. Firstly, Vikulya adored nature, flowers, birds and animals. She selflessly took up landscaping work on the property, placed two dogs in the mansion and started an aquarium. Secondly, her whole life’s dream was to live outside the city. She also rolled up her sleeves and remodeled the house in her own way. Andryushka has blossomed, rejuvenated and looks indecently happy. He and his wife go for walks, holding hands, and admiring the beauty of nature. Vika quit her job, she used to teach English and Latin at a medical school, retrained as a secretary and now helps Andryushka in business, sits in his travel agency, works with clients.