The mid-day sun generously flooded the half-empty schoolyard with its rays. The break had just ended, and the few latecomers were hurrying to make up for lost seconds, jostling by the entrance in an attempt to sneak inside all together.
– Leonid Alekseevich, I hope we understand each other, – said a woman of about thirty-five, well-groomed and elegantly dressed, doing her best to smile enchantingly. – We are a parental trio with our own… let’s say, standards. I have nothing against people with little means – I even participate in charity projects. But for the morning event, a photo session has been ordered. If we rented a costume for the girl, then we cannot be concerned with her mother’s image. Nor can we allow her to appear in the shot. I’m counting on your professionalism and discretion.
A narrow, pristine white envelope, filled with crisp banknotes, discreetly slid into the director’s pocket. He bowed gallantly:
– Don’t worry, everything will look just fine.
But as soon as the woman turned her back on him and hurried toward her car, the director’s eyebrows knit together on his nasal bridge, forming a deep wrinkle.
“Where did you come from to get on my case?” discontented thoughts swarmed in his mind. “My dear, you see, is unprestigious. How am I to isolate her? Please tell me! She considers every morning event the main event of her life. And why should I play the bouncer, letting only the chosen ones into the hotel? Everyone comes into this world naked, barefoot, and alone, and leaves the same way. And I must spoil this comedy because they are important people and they sponsor the school. I need to talk to Smirnova. Very delicately. If these first-generation aristocrats get out of hand…”
With a heavy gait, he headed for his office. Katya Smirnova’s mother was supposed to come in for a reference today.
Marina practically ran to the school. She had managed to escape the office for only an hour, but fortunately, the school was just two stops away. She bolted up the porch steps and hurried toward the director’s office.
– Leonid Alekseevich, did I make it in time? I’m sorry for the rush, but I barely managed to get away.
– Come in, Smirnova. I just signed the reference, – the director said, handing her a scribbled sheet, and added, – Have a seat for a minute; I won’t delay you.
Marina obediently sat down, puzzled.
– Here’s the thing… They expect me to handle this matter delicately. But it turns out I’m not always adept at being delicate. In short, the situation is as follows: your parental trio, who finances all the cool events, decided to turn the morning event into a photo session. They need a particular kind of crowd, you see. They dressed the children, but some parents, in their opinion, simply do not pass the style test. And I, the old relic who’s still waiting for them to pay for the computer lab, am forced to ask you to watch this ball from afar.
The director snapped his fingers sharply, and Marina, blanching, got up from her chair.
– Don’t worry, Leonid Alekseevich, I understand everything. What can you do, life is now… crooked. I understand that you can’t always insist on your own way. Will there be at least a video recording?
The director nodded silently.
– I’ll take care of everything as needed. I’ll tell Katya that you weren’t let off work. That’s almost true: the boss is opening a new sales hall, and everything needs to be sorted out there. Now it’s the end of the year, and maybe next year something will change.
The director sank wearily into his chair:
– Forgive me, old man, I couldn’t lie to you nicely. You’re not the type, Marina, for me to have to embellish things in front of you.
The woman nodded, raised her clenched fist in a sign that she wouldn’t give up, and left the office. Tears welled in her eyes. In her mind’s eye, the late Borya appeared, smiling with a row of white teeth and promising, “Never drift apart, girls! With me, you won’t get lost!” With him, it really was impossible to get lost. Boris had served as a gamekeeper in a large forestry area, fearless of beasts, people, or bad weather. He was always cheerful, resourceful, and infinitely reliable. Yes, with him, it was impossible to be lost. He himself had gotten lost. He didn’t return from one of his rounds. Three days later, his body was found with a poacher’s bullet lodged right in his heart. Two hundred meters from him, the corpse of a doe with a fawn was discovered. The crime created a huge sensation, but the investigation went nowhere. The culprits were never found, and Marina still shuddered at the thought that her husband’s murderer might be living a quiet life right now.
If Boris were alive, who could possibly say that he—a tanned, strong, and genuine man—might not meet someone’s standards? But after his death, life changed dramatically. She had to look for work in the city. There were no respectable jobs available, and a janitor at the shopping center, according to some, spoiled the whole facade for the gentlemen.
Marina returned to work on time and, with some desperate fury, began scrubbing the new sales hall. Labor productivity was growing, but her soul did not feel any lighter.
– Eh, it seems we’re using Stakhanovite methods here, – a mocking voice rang from behind.
She spun around sharply and saw Gennadiy Petrovich, the owner of the firm, who was personally checking on the work progress.
– What are you whining about? – Marina snapped, wringing her mop. – We’re delivering results ahead of schedule!
The boss’s expression turned serious. His life experience was enough to understand: Marina was on edge.
– Who hurt you? – he asked shortly. – You left for your daughter’s school in a completely different mood. I saw it.
Marina, pressed against the wall, couldn’t hold it in and, sniffling, began recounting the outrageous school injustice.
– So it goes, – Gennadiy Petrovich’s eyes lit up with a mix of mischievous and angry sparks. – I wonder, who are these “important persons” that my janitors are embarrassed by, and what were they up to not long ago? Has the morning event already begun?
– It starts in half an hour, – Marina replied, still not entirely sure where her boss was heading with this.
– Stella? – the secretary immediately picked up the phone. – Stella, didn’t you take the cocktail dress from home in which you attended our partners’ event? Here? Perfect. Rent it out for a couple of hours to one of our employees. She’ll be coming in shortly. In half an hour, I’ll be waiting for you by the car, – he addressed Marina.
– Honestly, I don’t understand a thing, – she admitted.
– What don’t you understand? – the director’s eyebrows arched in disapproval. – We’re going to your daughter’s morning event. You’ll pick up the dress from Stella. I want to see who dares to call my face unprestigious. I can’t stand snobs, – he concluded and marched energetically toward the exit.
When Marina and Gennadiy Petrovich entered the hall, trying not to attract attention, the morning event had already started. They quietly settled in the back rows. The woman who had spoken with the director that morning immediately noticed them and elbowed her neighbor.
– Nika, just look at that cheeky woman! She showed up with some man, and even “secured” a dress, you see! And all this against our agreements and our financial help! How is that even possible?
The red-haired girl next to her squinted, trying to get a better look.
– No way, “with some man”! Lucien, isn’t he Milla Nikishina’s fiancé? I ran into them at the club last week.
– Milla’s? – her eyes widened. – And what is that fiancé doing among the riffraff? Enjoying the contrast? Good-for-nothing! A lucrative package with a silent partner – he’s got it all!
The audience began to titter, and the friends had to fall silent.
Meanwhile, the concert went on, drawing thunderous applause that turned into ovations. The children gave it their all, and it was evident that the artistic director, Maria Andreevna, had poured her heart into the preparation. Katya was enchanting in a soft pink dress embroidered with sequins, and her duet with Pasha Koloskov, performing the old Italian song “Felicità,” became a true triumph.
– Mommy, did you like it? Really like it? – Katya asked enthusiastically, tugging at the edge of her mother’s dress.
– Of course, my dear, what doubts could there be? – Marina smiled.
– A queen! – added Gennadiy Petrovich. – Let’s go celebrate your success at the ice cream café. The car’s waiting! – And under the hungry gazes of Nika and Lucien, the three climbed into a shiny dark-red car, which quickly disappeared around the bend.
– Looks like it’s time to call your namesake, – trilled the one whom her friend called Lucien as the car drove off.
Marina woke up but wasn’t in a hurry to get out of bed, enjoying the lingering festive mood. A day that had started so poorly ended simply magnificently. When she arrived at the trading firm, she repeatedly heard from colleagues that the boss was strict but fair. Now she had experienced it for herself. Yesterday, Katya had a real celebration. Sitting in the café, watching her daughter’s sparkling eyes, listening to her chirping and the way she carefree smeared herself with chocolate, Marina recalled her best days with Boris. Her heart ached sweetly. Gennadiy Petrovich seemed to have taken on the role of a kindly magician: joking, fooling around, playing along with Katya. After the café, he drove them home in his car.
Marina hugged her pillow, savoring the pleasant memories. It was good that today was Saturday and she didn’t have to go to work, nor did Katya have to attend school. The celebration could be extended a little longer.
But the festive mood was shattered by the sharp ring of the doorbell. The sound was so unexpected and insistent that Marina didn’t immediately understand someone was at the door. Since moving to the city, visitors had been few and far between. And where would they come from? Could something have happened again? But with whom? Marina pulled herself out from under the blanket, fastening her robe on the fly, and hurried to the door, shivering with premonition.
Standing outside was a completely unfamiliar girl with a prim and capricious face. She looked at Marina with obvious contempt and anger.
– So, what did he see in you? – she snapped, not bothering with pleasantries.
– Who? – Marina stared at her, confused.
– Don’t play the fool, – the girl abruptly interrupted. – Was it you that Gena drove around with yesterday, you and your kid? And you’re acting like an idiot with me? I know that sometimes rich types are attracted to a pauper like you, but don’t get too excited. Gena is my fiancé, and the wedding is in a month. So back off quietly, on your own and quickly, or I’ll wipe you out to powder. And so you won’t doubt my abilities, today you’ll receive a “hello” from your landlady. And if that isn’t enough, I’ll find other ways.
With these words, the stranger sneered maliciously, tugged the door, and slammed it loudly, nearly hitting Marina.
“Miracles are over. Now the surprises begin,” Marina thought grimly as she headed to the bathroom to freshen up under streams of cold water.
The landlady didn’t keep her waiting. The phone rang as soon as Marina stepped out of the shower.
– Marinochka? – the landlady’s voice sounded awkward and tense. – In light of recent developments, I am forced to double your rent.
– Double? – Marina couldn’t believe her ears. – Your price was hardly low enough as it was.
– This price will remain for me, – the landlady sighed. – I was stingy for not signing an official contract with you, and now I’m paying for it. I’ll have to give up half the sum so that the tax authorities still remain unaware of my extra income.
“Great, now that bitch is going to profit from it too!” Marina gasped internally, rendered speechless by her outrage.
“Wonder if it would have been better to endure a failed morning event or to now have these problems?” she mused as she prepared Katya’s favorite oatmeal with raisins and honey. Her daughter liked it cold and thickened, so she had to hurry. “Well, whatever has happened, has happened. I wonder, will Gennadiy Petrovich get his share too? They say no good deed goes unpunished.”
Inside, anger boiled, her mind frantically searching for a way out of the financial impasse, but no solution was found. Marina was already working one and a half jobs, and the salary at the firm was decent. With no connections or protection, it was impossible to find a higher-paying job, and her workload couldn’t be increased further—she was already exhausted trying to provide Katya with a good education.
On Monday, the office greeted Marina with hustle and a new flurry of work. Gennadiy Petrovich was glum and scurried back and forth with a worried look. “He got it bad too… Because of me…” Marina concluded and hurried off to clean the warehouse, trying not to remind the boss of the problems that had fallen on him because of her.
“Strange, why is he still not married? He’s not a boy anymore,” Marina mused involuntarily, while her hands mechanically wielded the mop. Her thoughts refused to settle despite the physical labor. “Maybe it’s not his first marriage, and the girl feels insecure? Why would a clearly well-to-do, young, and attractive woman be so actively scrutinizing a janitor and weaving low-grade intrigues? There’s definitely something off here.” After Boris’s death, Marina became especially sensitive to hidden motives in other people’s actions, although she couldn’t explain why her mind kept returning to it.
Thinking in this way and mopping the floor, she almost reached the exit of the warehouse. Deciding to take a break, she glanced randomly out the window. The scene that unfolded made her freeze. At the entrance stood the familiar car of the boss, and in it, with her lips curled in disdain, was the recent guest, expertly made-up but clearly displeased. Gennadiy Petrovich was fiddling with the front door, his face expressing a mix of anger and slight guilt.
– Damn, she’s latched on, – a voice from behind, belonging to her colleague Lenka, was heard. – Nothing good will come of this.
– And who is that? – Marina feigned seeing the girl for the first time.
– A bride, if you can put it that way, – Lenka snorted. – Read between the lines: a millstone around his neck.
– Then why would he marry her? – Marina asked in surprise.
– The rich have their own rules, – Lenka replied, clearly well-informed by someone in the company. – Gennadiy Petrovich has a business, and the parents of this woman operate in the same sphere. And this family dreams of uniting: merging home and business into one big enterprise.
– Gennadiy Petrovich doesn’t seem like a man who can be easily married off, – Marina shook her head doubtfully.
– Precisely why he’s being married off. He used to be a free bird: mountains, rivers, travels. His father ran most of the affairs. Now the old man has started having health problems, dragged his son into the business, and demands an heir. Apparently, he’s had enough of the roaming, and now it’s time to settle down. And since he’s afraid his son will run off again, he found him a suitable bride—the daughter of his partner. The son loves his father, he firmly argued, and the ill father no longer gets his way.
– Well, they know best, of course, – Marina shrugged. – But as a happy couple they hardly look like one now, and what will happen later—only God knows.
From that day on, Marina tried to avoid the boss to prevent provoking further misunderstandings.
Then came the day to pay the rent. Marina spent half the day making columns of income and expenses. In any scenario, there wasn’t enough money even for a minimal balance, let alone covering the new rent amount. The search for new housing had so far been fruitless, and she had to find a way to pay for the current place. With a heavy sigh, she opened her cherished jewelry box with the twirling ballerina on the lid. Inside were her treasures: wedding rings, earrings that Boris had given her at the wedding, a ring from when Katya was born, and several modest pieces of jewelry from her mother. After a few moments of deliberation, she took out her mother’s pendant in the shape of a golden teardrop. It pleasantly chilled her hand, which was ready to take it to the pawnshop tomorrow. “That’ll cover this payment, and then maybe I’ll find cheaper housing, and school expenses during the holidays won’t be needed. I’ll buy it out. I definitely will.” She tried not to think about how many such promises had been made before, sincerely hoping that this time things would be different.
The pawnshop greeted her with silence and a sort of sad splendor. Large tropical palms were displayed alongside vases, statuettes, and miniature chess tables—items that their owners tried to turn into money. There were hardly any people; only a young man with a hunting rifle stood at the evaluator’s counter, trying to haggle for the maximum price.
– That’s not the money for such a rifle! – he fumed. – This is a Benelli! A break-action, for a big game! They’ll tear your arms off if you lower the price!
The evaluator mumbled something under his breath, clearly indicating that he’d still have to find a buyer for that rifle, and that he only paid money once he was sure of a quick turnover. The young man, having received the money, grumbled: “Miser, Gobsek, daylight robbery.”
Marina was about to approach the evaluator when the doorbell tinkled. Turning around, instead of moving forward, she dashed to hide behind a huge pandanus tree, dragging a floor vase close for extra security.
Into the pawnshop burst in the boss’s bride and lunged toward the young man with the rifle:
– Stas, are you completely an idiot? What the hell are you doing here? Return the money and take your rifle back!
“What kind of girl is she? Is screaming and causing a scene her main way of communicating? I wonder, can she even speak calmly?” thought Marina, trying to get comfortable in her hiding spot: “The main thing is not to get caught—then there will be no more trouble.”
But the young man did not respond to the shouts; he shook his head and pulled the girl away from the evaluator—straight toward Marina’s hiding place.
– Milla, don’t shout. I urgently need the money. I have no other way to get it. My father blocked all the cards.
– And did you think he’d give you unlimited funds after you hacked the “Bank-Client” system and nearly bankrupted our firm?
– What was I supposed to do? – the guy retorted. – You’d pity me if you knew what it’s like to be on the brink. I’m barely alive.
– Pity? – her voice turned into a mix of hissing and whistling. – Maybe you’ve forgotten that this rifle is linked to the killing of a gamekeeper? Is your life so dear to you? Or do you want to ruin the entire family? If everything comes out, the senior Muromov might reconsider marrying his son to you. You know him—he’s principled. And who then will save our family business? You? You’ve already sunk it. And I agreed to put up with this buffoon for the sake of the family, and now you’re putting everything at risk.
– Everything can be turned to your advantage, – Stas began to sneer, slipping into a manic state. – You won’t have to lie around with that buffoon. You’ll find yourself a macho man! – He burst into loud laughter, picturing the scene.
– Fine, you’ve already had your dose, – Milla said coolly with fury and abruptly turned toward the exit. Stas, waiting until she was out of sight, followed her.
Marina sat by the counter as if paralyzed. Somewhere deep inside her consciousness, the thought began to form that she might have accidentally gotten close to uncovering the truth about Boris’s murder. But the fear and shock from what she had heard kept her frozen. Could it really be so simple? A player for whom the fear of losing money outweighs the fear of murder… And drugs had added to his madness. Because of all this filth, her Boris died. The pain she had almost forgotten flared up again with new force, tearing her heart apart. Marina rested her hot forehead against the cold vase. The evaluator had disappeared into a back room, and she realized that it was time to get out. With trembling hands and legs that hardly obeyed, she slipped outside. Reaching the nearest square, she bought a bottle of ice-cold mineral water and sat on a bench. The cold water refreshed her a bit, and a decision came suddenly. In her phone was still saved the number of the investigator handling Boris’s case. With uncooperative fingers, she found it and made the call. The phone wasn’t picked up for a long time. The rings dragged on interminably, as if mocking her expectation of justice. Finally, just a second before the call would drop, someone answered, and a husky voice said:
– I’m listening.
– Vitaly Pavlovich? This is Marina Smirnova. Two years ago, you handled the case of my husband, Boris Smirnov, who was killed in the reserve.
– Yes, I remember. What’s happened?
– Vitaly Pavlovich, I cannot be certain, but it seems that just now a rifle—the same one used to kill Boris—was pawned. I accidentally overheard the conversation.
– Address? – he asked curtly. Marina realized that the machinery of justice had started moving again. After giving the address, she reached home half-awake, prepared dinner, and read “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer” with Katya. As soon as her daughter fell asleep, Marina went to bed and instantly fell into a deep dreamless sleep. In the morning, struggling to wake up, she went to work.
At the office entrance, Gennadiy Petrovich’s car was parked, from which he was taking out a case of champagne, mineral water, and several bottles of whiskey.
“Getting ready for the wedding,” Marina noted to herself. – “Probably celebrating it in the office.” She froze. What to do? Now she knew what he didn’t even suspect. Should she say it? Would he listen? Perhaps he loves that impulsive Milla? She had already caused Marina huge trouble once, and she did not want to repeat that experience. If the story of her brother’s crime surfaces, the wedding might fall apart on its own. And if not? Or will they manage to marry before everything becomes public? But what did she care about that man? At that moment, Marina felt a pang of conscience. This man had recently made a celebration for her and Katya, for complete strangers. Now his well-being and happiness were under threat. Clearly, to Milla, he was just a wallet. On the other hand, in business there may be nuances. Marina was about to leave, but Gennadiy Petrovich noticed her.
– Good day! I was beginning to think you were ill. I haven’t seen you in a while, – he smiled.
– I’m mostly working in the warehouse right now, – Marina replied and unexpectedly blurted out: – Gennadiy Petrovich, promise me that if what I’m about to tell you turns out to be uninteresting, you won’t fire me or tell anyone.
– Sounds intriguing, – he became serious. – Alright, if this is truly important information, I’ll do my best to ensure that your story doesn’t bring you harm.
– Important, – Marina said confidently. – It’s just that I’m not sure if it’s even my business.
– Then let’s go to my office, – suggested Gennadiy Petrovich, swinging the door open before her.
A butterfly, having flown into the office, was fluttering against the glass. Marina couldn’t bring herself to get up and let it out. Gennadiy Petrovich sat opposite, doodling intricate patterns on a sheet of paper. After her story, he sat silently for thirty minutes, sketching on his fifth or sixth sheet. The pause stretched on, and Marina didn’t know how to break it. Finally, she resolved:
– Let’s let it go.
– Let go? – he raised his puzzled eyes.
– The butterfly, – Marina said with a soft smile. – It’s been beating against the glass for a long time. It’s a pity.
The boss suddenly smiled childishly and opened the window.
– Well, I’m off, or else I’d be in perpetual vacation mode today, – Marina hurriedly said.
– Thank you, Marina, – he said seriously, but pain flickered in his eyes. – I will never forget your brave act.
– Oh, come on, – she blushed and left.
A few weeks later, the heavy doors of the district court swung open, releasing a focused Marina. At the entrance stood the familiar dark-red car.
– So, has the verdict been passed? – asked Gennadiy Petrovich.
– Yes. Ballistic forensics is a stubborn matter, – Marina nodded. – The defense had no arguments.
– Then I invite you, – mischievous sparks flickered in his eyes.
– To a restaurant? – she guessed.
– Worse. To the registry office, – he replied seriously. – I’ve been planning this step for so long that I fear I won’t get a second chance.
– Won’t a change of bride and a second statement unsettle them? – Marina smirked.
– I don’t think so. And if it does, I’ll explain that I now know all the models of break-action rifles, – Gennadiy Petrovich replied importantly.
