Heirlooms cannot be returned read. Oleg Roy: Family heirlooms, or non-refundable

29.06.2019

Heirlooms, or Non-refundable

In memory of my son Zhenya

dedicated to

Cannot be returned or exchanged...

...Products made of precious metals, with precious stones, made of precious metals with inserts of semi-precious and synthetic stones, faceted precious stones.

(The list was approved by Government Decree Russian Federation dated January 19, 1998 No. 55 (as amended on January 27, 2009))

- Soon everything will be in chocolate! – Lana stretched her seductively lush body flexibly, sighed dreamily, squinted her eyes - ugh. The dark wood of the antique wardrobe did not reflect a damn thing! So, some vague shadows. That’s how many times I begged her to at least put some normal furniture in the bedroom – and at least Italian furniture! So that there are mirrors, and all around there is white and gold, like some French kings, Louis, or something, everything glitters, sparkles, sparkles - beauty! It’s not that this junk is sad, as if it was dragged from a landfill, by God! Like an antique! Since it is an antique, it belongs in a museum, among the same dull exhibits - boring! And he’s not a moron at all! I'm as boring as this wardrobe! Either way - Dan! As soon as he looks at it, fireworks light up inside! And butterflies, butterflies, butterflies flutter! What a handsome man! Well, just like in the magazine pictures, honestly!

Lord, what happiness she had! And it will be even better, everything will be fabulously beautiful! This is absolutely clear. Not like those misty shadows deep in the dark wood. Probably, after all, it wasn’t worth having a date at home, you never know, it’s the middle of the day... Oh, okay! The idiot is sure that he bought Lana with all her giblets, that she just doesn’t pray for him. He’s so sure, he’s so sure—how can he guess anything! It won’t even cross my mind!

Dan lazily threw his hand behind his head, and from his movement the silk sheet quickly moved down somewhere, to the floor, revealing dark smooth skin, long muscles, a lean belly, and he squinted satedly, like a cat that had emptied a bowl of cream:

- Are you sure?

Still would! Lana personally worked hard to ensure that everything worked out as it should. If you want something done well, do it yourself.

Sveta felt a triumph that she wanted to celebrate. That's why she called Dan right here to her nest. I so wanted to tell Danchik that the matter with the bracelet had been settled and now everything was covered in chocolate, or even better – in diamonds... But she still bit her tongue. Well, I sort of bit it. She, of course, would not hide anything from Dan. But not yet. Not because he doesn’t trust – in no case! Are you crazy or something, who should you trust if not him? Such love happens once in a lifetime, and not for everyone, it’s only shown in movies. Look how many times he said that it would be nice to go somewhere far away from all the pressing problems - somewhere in a quiet corner near the warm sea. And Lana will emerge from the gentle waves, illuminated by lunar silver, like a goddess - naked and beautiful! Well, it’s beautiful, really like in the movies!

But it’s better not to say anything yet, so as not to jinx it. And most importantly, who is Lana now? Well, she’s beautiful, cooler than any TV star, well, Dan loves her - so it’s breathtaking. But…

She dived into the silk lake of the bed, pressed herself against the long, smooth, scaldingly cool body... Goddess, wow!

But this is not enough!

Now, if everything works out, she’ll be a real goddess! Or a sorceress, for example. Something like that. Everything is very simple, you just need to wait a little, be patient. In the movies, lovers always face some terrible obstacles - otherwise, what kind of special love is this? And then the two of them drink champagne on the deck of a luxury yacht, and he quietly whispers: “You are my miracle, without you none of this would have happened, you gave me the whole world!” And the yacht is sailing...

Maybe she will change her name then? Or is it not worth it? She came up with a very good name for herself. Lana. Almost like Lauren or Wanda. And almost without it. And in comparison with that sugary and vulgar banality that was awarded to her by her mother, who remained somewhere in the distant past, and in general. Moreover, she will not just be Lana,” she glanced sideways at the dark profile against the background of the pillow, “but Lana Mai... Yes, that’s enough. When moving to civilized countries, many “cut off” their surnames. And Dan will certainly do so. And she will be... Lana Mai. Mr. Very beautiful.

Lana turned to look at the clock hanging over the carved finial of the wardrobe to see if it was time for them to get ready - and did not finish moving...

In memory of my son Zhenya

dedicated to

© Rezepkin O., 2016

© Design. LLC Publishing House E, 2016

Cannot be returned or exchanged...

...Products made of precious metals, with precious stones, made of precious metals with inserts of semi-precious and synthetic stones, cut precious stones.

(The list was approved by Decree of the Government of the Russian Federation dated January 19, 1998 No. 55 (as amended on January 27, 2009))

- Are you sure?

Still would! Lana personally worked hard to ensure that everything worked out as it should. If you want something done well, do it yourself.

She dived into the silk lake of the bed, pressed herself against the long, smooth, scaldingly cool body... Goddess, wow!

But this is not enough!

Lana turned to look at the clock hanging over the carved finial of the wardrobe to see if it was time for them to get ready - and did not finish moving...

My throat was so tight that it was impossible to take another breath. Or was it the air itself that suddenly became unbreathable? He became cold and prickly, like the ice crumbs that remain after a truck rumbles across a frozen puddle. The sharp fragments sparkle merrily, shimmer, sparkle with a bright, cutting, diamond shine - but you can’t breathe with them, they scratch your throat, dig in, get stuck, you can’t push them further, to where the maddened, burning lungs scream in horror: air! Air! Just to breathe...

Chapter 1
Memory of the Heart

The past is still alive

The last one didn't die

In whose memory is it alive?

The snow did not fall - it hovered in the glass space outside the window. The sky behind him swirled pale orange, pinkish, peach.

It’s as if it’s not a smoky, gloomy metropolis below, but a fairy-tale castle.

She frowned slightly, peering into the silver snow sparks. Yes, right. Silver. Silver star-shaped mesh-web on pink rhodonite. However, no, rhodonite is rough. And not an eagle. And charoite will not work. Perhaps the moonstone is adularia? No, too “cold”, almost blue. Perhaps pink opal would be good, or pink garnet would be rhodolite. And among the carnelians, you will probably find the right shade. Earrings? Necklace? Brooch? Yes, a brooch is good. And a bracelet. And maybe a tiara. No symmetry, of course. For the VIP option, you can add more small, small diamonds, literally diamond chips, to the silver web.

It was as if she saw in front of her the fluid, unsteady lines and colors of future jewels. You don't have to sketch. She won't forget.

Who said that old age is sclerosis? Moreover, who said that seventy-something is old? Funny people.

Well, yes, of course, at seventy everything is not as easy as at twenty.

Everything is much easier. That's the thing.

And no, perhaps the diamond chips will be superfluous. Too much. Too harsh, almost vulgar. And if someone “especially important” decides that carnelians in silver are too cheap... well, screw them!

Day by day she understood more and more clearly the justice of her grandfather’s behest: it is not the high cost of gems that determines true value works jewelry art. One of the most beautiful Faberge eggs – “Lilies of the Valley”, enamel and pearls – would look much more elegant and piercing without the diamond and ruby crown crowning it.

Like this lampshade, a family heirloom. Bronze, chased, but so lacy, so openwork, as if wicker or at least forged. But malleable bronze is already something ancient history, today bronze is not forged. And a hundred years ago too... The carnelians in the windows of the whimsical pattern, darkened by time, sparkled with cheerful multi-colored lights - probably a hundred years ago, when the lamp under the lampshade was kerosene, they shimmered not so brightly. These are simple stones, but what a beauty! Like a Christmas tree garland among the black October branches. Silver would have been more openwork and lighter, but... If the lampshade had been silver, it probably would not have seemed so beautiful. And it’s unlikely that the silver lampshade would have survived to this day. Three revolutions, two wars, and other life turns. Why, it’s a lampshade, it’s incomprehensible to my mind how they managed to defend the house.

It’s okay, the lampshade winked at the lights, you did it. And you did it. And you can handle it further, what are you afraid of?

Kat, also winking slyly, calls her the Queen of Gems. But what kind of queen is she? Except maybe the princess...

Happy Princess - this is how she, who always loved not only the play of stones, but also the play of words, translated her name. Princess - because Vasilievna. Vasily - the Russified Greek "basileus" - translated means "king". Well, Vasilievna turns out to be a Princess, right? And if anyone out there thinks that the princess is definitely something so young, let him think so. A princess - she is a princess even at seventy. Moreover... well, what, by God, does it matter what numbers are written on the passport? Inside, in my soul, it’s seething... well, not seventeen, of course, but... perhaps twenty-seven, twenty-eight. Approximately. When you are no longer poking at life as a half-blind little kitten, but - you understand. You understand everything you see. And - you rejoice, rejoice at it all. Every day, every hour, every moment. This is happiness.

Yes, she's happy.

Happy - because Arcadia. And what? It may very well be. After all, ancient Greek Arcadia for dozens of centuries served as a symbol of a kind of pastoral, idyllic peace and serene happiness. It is unlikely that the real Peloponnesian province was really that a piece of paradise, but the symbol exists! If living in Arcadia was considered a guarantee happy life, then the name should bring something like that, right?

Well, yes, it could very well be the other way around, and she made it all up for herself, but so what? She liked to think that way—both about her name and about herself.

Happy Princess.

Arkadia Vasilievna.

Arcadia the Second, to be precise.

The second is not necessarily worse than the first. Who, besides historians, remembers the Russian Empress Catherine the First? Just think, the wife of Peter the Great! A trifle, in general. But Catherine the Second - yes, this is a figure. It’s just that you live well and don’t give anyone the nickname “Great”. But it’s the second one.

She habitually stroked the bracelet, as always, marveling at the impeccable grace of its lines and noting: it brings happiness, not just the name.

A bracelet and maybe a house.

Arkadia Vasilievna frowned, listening: was someone upstairs walking around? Tatiana? However, Tatyana, even when she is tormented by radiculitis, or when Misha comes to visit his mother, you will not hear from here. The ceilings here, said the repair foreman, are wow, they will last until the second coming. Well, sound insulation too.

It seemed. Or, as the children say, it is itself.

Arkadia Vasilievna smiled.

Maybe on its own. The house was old and sometimes sighed. Not from feeling unwell, in no case, the health of the mansion could be the envy of many new buildings - rather, just from memories. She sighed too—deep, long, sweet. She stretched, arching her back strongly. She grinned and shook her head, remembering the clucking of the doctor, whom she called Vadik in her own way - after all, the son of an old friend, he grew up almost before our eyes. Arkadia Vasilyevna was terribly amused by his oohs and aahs:

- My dear, it’s age! You need to take care of yourself, don’t strain yourself, stick to the routine, don’t allow sudden movements, do only gentle gymnastics, otherwise you’re far from disaster.

It was especially funny about gentle gymnastics. Look who's Talking! Vadik, not quite forty, already had a fair amount of paunch and even climbed up to the second floor, to see Tatyana, with a gasp. Arkady, in his “over seventies”, takes off to the third, attic floor, without losing his breath, and Vadikov’s hints - they say, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to equip the mansion with an elevator, you, my dear, are quite provided for, to create the proper level of comfort for yourself - only with your head shakes and snorts. No really. I've seen enough. As soon as you begin to spare yourself, surround yourself with comfort and all that - and, simply put, indulge your own laziness - you will immediately turn into a flabby old woman. Or even worse. Looks like Vadik's mother. Red-haired Ritka, who during their common youth was known as one of the most reckless adventurers, has been lying for two years, broken by a stroke, even speaking with difficulty. All because after fifty I gave up on myself: just think, they say, twenty extra kilos, well, thirty, well, forty, age, well, why not treat yourself to a cake? So I spoiled myself. Arkadia Vasilievna visited ex-girlfriend rarely - it’s very difficult to feel your own powerlessness, it all seems that you are to blame for something, maybe if you had been more persistent in your exhortations, and such a tragedy would not have happened. And no matter how much you convince yourself that it’s not your fault, it’s already impossible to help, it’s terrible.

Yes, even without tragedies - it’s a shame, as you look at some. For the majority, to be honest.

Old men. Real old people.

Even those who are still swaggering...

There’s Kolenka Gornostaev, who called for the third time just now, reminding us that the anniversary is coming, don’t forget your old friend. Friend, of course! Even funny.

Oh, what a romance they had! The entire Moscow elite watched with bated breath the “Mexican passions” unfolding live. Today's Mexican TV series and other “soap operas,” by the way, are no match for the follies of that time. Crowds of fans after each performance showered the Byronic handsome man with luxurious bouquets, and he threw flowers into the director's box, from where, under his patronage and insistence, she, Arkadia, looked at the stage. Kolya really liked her name: my Arkadia, he repeated, rolling his eyes and even seeming to be slightly out of breath, as if he were acting out yet another sensitive explanation on stage, my Arkadia, my happy refuge. When the director's box was occupied by some particularly honored guest, Arcadia was seated in the first row, and the throwing of flowers at the feet of the charming woman became even more spectacular. The charming woman took “material signs of immaterial relationships” for granted, with truly royal equanimity. Where did that equanimity go when they threw the dishes of the WTO restaurant, or even the Metropol, at each other, rowing so much that the crystal pendants of expensive chandeliers rang from the furious screams, and the impassive waiters, like English lords, even changed face! How passionately they made up - not publicly, but... yes, as a rule, right here, in this mansion, not always even having time to get to the bedroom.

Friend, you have to say this, Arkadia Vasilievna grinned sarcastically.

But the old one - yes, yes, even though Kolenka is invigorated, and goes to massage therapists, and maybe even, scary to think, to plastic surgeons, and seduces young ingenues, as if he is proving to someone that he is not an old man, but quite the opposite - brave and cheerful. Funny. The ingénue-debutantes and students from his seminar are certainly not ready to fall into his arms in batches because of this mythical bravado, just with permission. Master! He's a master, but alas. It would be nice to have gray hair, it only gives significance to many people. Look how the gray wig suited Kolenka, worn for the role of Aduev in “ Ordinary history"! But what about gray hair! Kolenka became heavy, flabby, and dissatisfied lines hung from the corners of his mouth, like those of an elderly spaniel. And no matter how hard the virtuosos of tailoring try, you can’t hide the tummy sticking out from under their masterpieces.

Should I go to Gornostaev’s for his anniversary or what? So as not to be upset, to the ruins former heroes looking...

Lelik, with whom Kat always teases her - there, she says, look no matter how you look at the TV, he will become Deputy Prime Minister not today, tomorrow. I rushed through, my friend, now I would be behind him, like behind a stone wall, like cheese in butter. Oh well. Lelik will either become Deputy Prime Minister or not, but he became a barrel of lard a long time ago. A wheel of cheese in butter, yes, yes, yes. Even in his youth, Arkadia didn’t like him - a petty, vain soul, thoroughly imbued with ambition - he would even sell himself to the devil, if only he could climb higher. He, it seems, courted Arkadia not because of any feelings, not even because of primitive lust (you can’t deceive a woman: he didn’t want her one bit, not one bit; he didn’t want anything at all except proximity to power), but out of a desire for prestige: to have this independent beauty as a mistress would be more than flattering. And not only as a mistress, he also asked her to marry, though not too persistently. Arkadia didn’t think for a moment then: get married?! For “this”?!! It’s not even funny, it’s simply disgusting... Although at that time Lelik looked more or less decent. And now - ugh, it’s sickening to even look at it.

The famous lawyer Rudolf Mikhailovich is still good, one of the few who is still pleasant to look at today. And let’s talk – and at all! Their romance once began with conversations: about painting Italian Renaissance and legal cases in literary works, about the difficulties of translation and techniques for manipulating mass consciousness, about the fusion of East and West in Russian art and philosophical schools of antiquity. About everything. It was terribly, terribly interesting to be with him. And not at all because of his fame. To tell the truth, Arcadia didn’t give a damn about her lawyer’s – or any other – fame. Rudolf Mikhailovich later, when their romance had more or less successfully ended, made a name for himself in the high-profile trial of Sokolov, the thieving director of the Eliseevsky grocery store. The lawyers then failed to save the odious client, but the ratings, as they call it now, of the lawyers involved in the case, of course, skyrocketed.

Yes, Arkadia Vasilievna sighed, this novel, unlike most others, had every chance of ending with Mendelssohn’s march. Oh, I could. If it were not for the specifically lawyerly cynicism of an ardent lover. Rudolf Mikhailovich was quite flaming, but at the same time - just in case, you can’t put all your eggs in one basket - he also made advances to Kat.

No, Arkadia was not offended - what is there to be offended about, the way he was born, the way he will die, you can’t wash a black dog white, what grows, grows. You have to be a complete idiot to hope for “getting married will change.” She was never anything but an idiot. But the promising, perhaps the most promising of all, fan was quickly transferred “to the bench.” From where, to be honest, no one returns back “to the game”, gradually moving into the category of “old friends”.

By the way, she smiled, the friendship has survived to this day - and it may very well be that this is much better than a marriage that did not happen. They would have gotten married, Rudolph would have wandered off, she would have suffered, and then it would probably have come to a divorce with pot-smashing. And now they meet, although not too often, but always with pleasure. He complains to her about his wives - this is his third, it seems? or fifth? - about the children, now he started sighing about the grandchildren:

“My eldest has completely turned into a computer application.” You know, Archie,” he still called her by this name invented once upon a time, “I can’t even imagine how to tear her away from this box.” You won’t believe it, all day long she sits as if glued, almost never leaving the house. And it would be good if she got busy with work, otherwise it’s a monkey’s joy. No, I’m not against technological progress, I use it myself: the mail is there, searching for everything you need, news of legislation and everything else, the work is like that, you have to keep your finger on the pulse. Again, electronic archives are much more convenient than paper ones: they don’t take up space, they’re a pleasure to organize, and they’re nothing to sneeze at. But Sonya doesn’t do anything like that, she just kills time - like texting with friends. They compare photos of cats to see who gets the most pluses. Calling it correspondence is like putting a vase of plaster apples on the table, eat, dear guests! My parents even called a psychologist, but what was the point? No, they would take her and send her on some kind of campaign, so that real life sniffed it, or they would have taken it around Europe... Even if it was by force! But no, they are terribly busy... By God, it would be better if she ran around discos, or whatever they are called today. Of course, there is no gift there either, there are drugs in every club toilet, shouldn’t I, a fashionable lawyer, know?.. But drugs are still not an obligatory element, but a potential risk. And so - some kind of living life. Do you remember how we...

Arkadia smiled sadly, remembering not “like us,” but her own grandson. Balka also hangs out on his computer for hours. Either he says that he is looking for educational materials, he got the hang of it at university, and now, in graduate school, he uses the same methods, then he even seems to be working part-time. Well maybe, maybe. And as if glued to the monitor, it still doesn’t sit, it crawls out into the light. Although somehow everything is for fun. Yes, it's time, it's time for him to... what did Rudolph say? It's time for Balck to " living life" to return. The family property must fall into safe hands. The door of Ali Baba's cave cannot be opened to everyone, oh, not to everyone. Even if he is his own grandson.

So yes, it’s probably good that Rudolf Mikhailovich never turned from lover to husband. But Arkadia Vasilievna has a good - reliable, which is surprising given his love frivolity - friend.

It's funny that she and Kat never quarreled over fans. Divide - they shared, passed on to each other - passed on, sometimes even completely, having suddenly fallen for the same person, they peacefully agreed: okay, take this one for yourself, it will suit you better. As if we were talking about dresses, honestly!

So go to Gornostaev for the anniversary or... It’s true that we haven’t seen Kolenka for a long time, but at such a celebration you can’t really communicate with the culprit. This means you’ll have to jostle in a crowd you know by heart, look at outfits and jewelry, and exchange phrases varying degrees politeness. Fat Vika, the wife of one of the “cultural leaders,” will hiss through her teeth: good for you, you’re so slim, you’re lucky with your genetics, you haven’t gained a single kilogram with age, and no diets help others, your body is plumping up by leaps and bounds , and everyone here, over there, they say that swimming helps you lose weight, but it’s all a lie, if it’s inherent in nature, then you could even drown in the pool, but you won’t lose the weight.

Diets, you see, don't help her. Arkadia saw how she cracked the cakes - and then her round, surprised eyes: I even drink tea, she says, without sugar, and still I’m getting fat, horror!

True, Arkadia Vasilievna never went to the pool. And now it won't. She didn't like swimming pools. I didn’t like it, as it’s fashionable to say these days, literally at all. At resorts - be it “budget” Antalya or “elite” Maldives with a personal pool (for some reason always in the shape of a dental tray, like a bean curved for grace) with a personal (VIP! What of it!) cottage - I swam only in the sea. Where is stubborn, real, unexpected - alive! – the water does not stroke you with powerless palms, but imperiously declares its rights over you. Either he will push you in the shoulder with all his might, like a naughty puppy - the size of an elephant - then he will cover you with your head, then he will rock you gently, soothing, lulling, relaxing, then, suddenly becoming naughty, he will shower you with copious splashes. You spit out from the bitter salty moisture - and laugh with delight.

Maybe fly to Goa for a week? Where is the temperature of both water and air all year round plus twenty eight. Or to Hawaii, for example? Just put everything planned aside and fly away, huh? To misbehave. Learn to stand on a nimble board, which is rocked on its heavy back by the largest ocean on Earth?

Just postponing what was planned - bad omen. There will be no way. So right now, flying to salt water won’t work. And why is there no ocean near Moscow? Or at least the sea. Only swimming pools with their artificial currents and marmalade water. You're splashing around in a dead trough. Although many people seem to like it. And she has this whim: no matter what they say about the benefits of swimming pools for maintaining the notorious shape, she does not like them. Does not love. And I never loved.

But I always walked a lot. And she didn’t neglect the gym. And in the mansion, when she was doing renovations, she equipped something like that: a wall bars, three or four exercise machines, a wall-length mirror with a ballet barre. Well, there is a sauna nearby, and a shower - circular, cruel, with jets beating from three walls from top to bottom. Very, you know, tonic.

So, in some ways, Vika is right: Arkadia Vasilievna has not gained a single kilogram with age. And it’s not about the kilograms themselves – it’s about mobility. They still call her “girl” from behind: fit, slender, with a light, flying step. Well, with the face and neck, of course, everything is not so radiant. Once upon a time, I remember, they talked about such a discrepancy: there is a lyceum in the back, a museum in front. However, she herself is still far from being a “museum”. Physical exercise complete with a contrast shower, you know, they “preserve” quite well. Pumping crazy amounts of money into cosmetologists, like Kat's beloved friend, always seemed... not entirely appropriate to Arcadia. Grooming is yes, but without fanaticism. After all, at their age, it’s not their plump lips and smooth cheeks that attract attention, but their charm. Arkadia’s may not be as stunningly brilliant as Kat’s, who is all fireworks dissolved in a glass of champagne, but quite, completely. A very charming charm. There may not be a crowd of fans, but two or three are always ready. And not just any runts or, more than aspirations, underage gigolos.

Oh, we still need to bring Kat to some sense. This “baby”, as she calls it, is not the matter, oh, it is not the matter. After all, she’s almost old enough to be a grandchild. And you can’t move her from her place - love, she says, that’s the whole story!

When Kat was called frivolous, she just chuckled contentedly: well, I’m Countess Bobrinskaya, why shouldn’t I be frivolous - with such and such a pedigree! Really.

The first of the Bobrinsky counts was generally known to be the fruit of what is called “criminal passion.” However, crowned persons do not have “criminal” passions - only unofficial ones. And Catherine the Second, for all her, so to speak, love of love, was an absolutely pragmatic lady. She seemed to be amusing herself recklessly, but the consequences of this only happened once, apparently, the Mother Empress did not get rid of it, she regretted it. Still, Grigory Orlov, the father of the illegitimate offspring, was an eagle not only by name, and certainly not only in alcove games. “Consequences” was named Alexei Grigorievich, awarded the title of count and the corresponding estate.

Kat claimed that she had inherited her love of love and cheerful disposition from Catherine herself and even seemed to be proud of her frivolity.

* * *

- Well, you, too, you know, are not the height of prudence. - Kat funny wrinkled her still charming nose and waved her narrow palm, calling the waiter - like, more coffee, please. - This idea of yours is an adventure. clean water. Don't you mind the bracelet? I thought he was like a part of you. Amulet. Mascot. Amulet. How can you give up your own amulet?

Arcadia discovered this restaurant about eight, or even ten years ago - at the beginning of the two thousandth. The jewelry store “Arkady Privalov” (almost on Tverskaya! Although it’s scary to remember what it was worth), having gone through all the necessary difficulties of formation, had already earned a reputation, the income had become quite stable, and it was finally possible to begin the reconstruction of the fairly dilapidated mansion. I wanted an impeccable life, and not to spoil it. As Arkadia herself said - almost not in jest: so that the brownie, offended by the changes, does not run away. But it was, of course, not just about the brownie. It was scary to lose the familiar atmosphere of a family mansion and turn it into an immaculately comfortable and completely faceless remake. But everything seemed to work out.

From an engineering point of view, the most difficult part was unexpectedly the plumbing. She despaired. The masters despaired. They despaired - and again set about turning the ancient, almost overgrown web of pipes into... well, into a water supply system, actually. And when, finally, sinks, faucets, and showers began working in all the kitchens and bathrooms of the mansion, it was like the beginning of some new life. The water became crystal clear, bluish, like in Lake Geneva, as if even sweet. Arkadia Vasilievna also installed a jacuzzi in her personal bathroom! At the insistence of Kat, who always adored all sorts of such things. The Jacuzzi was, of course, very pleasant, no doubt about it. But still, the main treasure was the most luxurious one, with a million sparkling handles and levers, similar to spaceship shower cabin! Arcadia stood under the prickly streams, feeling each of them with her aging skin - and it was such a sharp, such youthful, bodily happiness that everything else looked funny, insignificant trifles. What old age, what are you talking about, when you can take such a shower at least ten times a day!

Cute as Christmas tree decoration, an Italian restaurant ten minutes walk from the mansion turned out to be very useful then, during the renovation “cataclysms”. Faced with another “unsolvable dilemma,” Arcadia called Kat, and they sat for hours over a delicious cappuccino, discussing which direction to move the renovation forward. The place was not a busy place, there were no crowds of visitors, it was comfortable and calm to sit. Arkadia Vasilievna feared that the restaurant, lost in the web of quiet alleys of distant Zamoskvorechye, would not last long. But no, it didn’t go bankrupt, it even grew a little - now in the summer you could sit in the “Italian courtyard” hidden behind the main hall. The ivy that covered the lattice wall lazily moved its carved leaves. On the tiled floor, nimble sunbeams were playing catch-up. It smelled of heated stone and even, it seemed, of the sea. However, why “seems”? Maybe it really is by sea. There are probably some special flavors? With sea salt, for example, with algae extracts and all sorts of things that weave into a complex, but absolutely recognizable “sea” aroma.

The main “winter” room smelled of pine needles, lemon, polish, candle wax and, of course, coffee.

Arkadia Vasilievna took a tiny sip and stroked the bracelet with one finger:

- Do you know? No pity. And this amulet is not mine, strictly speaking.

“But you always said...” Kat frowned her perfect eyebrows in bewilderment. - A family talisman, they say...

– And now I’ll say the same thing. Family. Not my personal one, you know? Your family, without any amulets, is being looked after by guardian angels, maybe Catherine the Great herself is looking after you from heaven. Well, we, the Privalovs, are earthly people, so our amulet is quite material. Yes, he is only a hundred years old. My job is to ensure that in these hundred years his work is not exhausted, that the lineage is not cut short.

Arkadia Vasilyevna made a precise point about guardian angels. The Bobrinsky family - well, at least the branch on which Kat eventually blossomed - was almost unaffected by any of the historical cataclysms that the 20th century was so rich in. Her grandmother, who got married at the beginning of it, really didn’t like her husband’s estate. And he, ready to even take the moon out of the sky for the sake of his adored wife, let alone set up any estate he wanted, immediately rushed to fulfill the whim of his, as he said, mistress. The estate was successfully sold, and while they were looking for a suitable one, the young couple traveled around Europe. Well, we traveled and had more fun. The mood was somewhat spoiled by the sudden outbreak of the First World War, but the war is somewhere out there, far away, right? It’s quiet in Switzerland, and frivolous Paris, in general, didn’t remember anything so terrible. At the beginning of the seventeenth year, the young couple began to hear rumors about some unrest in Russia. Almost a revolution, what a horror, truly. Their fifth year was not enough! They decided to postpone the purchase of the estate until calmer times; just in case, the capital was transferred to Switzerland. So when after February Revolution Oktyabrskaya broke out, the affairs of the young family were much better than those of the overwhelming majority of the Russian nobility. And when little Sophie was born to the still passionately in love spouses, everything became completely wonderful. What a war, what a revolution, what are you talking about! Everything is great with us, but if someone is not doing so well, then... well, you know, it’s a shame, of course, but what do we have to do with it?

...Products made of precious metals, with precious stones, made of precious metals with inserts of semi-precious and synthetic stones, cut precious stones.

(The list was approved by Decree of the Government of the Russian Federation dated January 19, 1998 No. 55 (as amended on January 27, 2009))

- Are you sure?

Still would! Lana personally worked hard to ensure that everything worked out as it should. If you want something done well, do it yourself.

She dived into the silk lake of the bed, pressed herself against the long, smooth, scaldingly cool body... Goddess, wow!

But this is not enough!

Lana turned to look at the clock hanging over the carved finial of the wardrobe to see if it was time for them to get ready - and did not finish moving...

Memory of the Heart

The past is still alive

The last one didn't die

In whose memory is it alive?

Virgil

The snow did not fall - it hovered in the glass space outside the window. The sky behind him swirled pale orange, pinkish, peach.

It’s as if it’s not a smoky, gloomy metropolis below, but a fairy-tale castle.

It was as if she saw in front of her the fluid, unsteady lines and colors of future jewels. You don't have to sketch. She won't forget.

Who said that old age is sclerosis? Moreover, who said that seventy-something is old? Funny people.

Well, yes, of course, at seventy everything is not as easy as at twenty.

Everything is much easier. That's the thing.

Day by day, she understood more and more clearly the justice of her grandfather’s behest: the true value of a work of jewelry is not determined by the high cost of gems. One of the most beautiful Faberge eggs – “Lilies of the Valley”, enamel and pearls – would look much more elegant and piercing without the diamond and ruby crown crowning it.

Like this lampshade, a family heirloom. Bronze, chased, but so lacy, so openwork, as if wicker or at least forged. But malleable bronze is something from ancient history; today bronze is not forged. And a hundred years ago too... The carnelians in the windows of the whimsical pattern, darkened by time, sparkled with cheerful multi-colored lights - probably a hundred years ago, when the lamp under the lampshade was kerosene, they shimmered not so brightly. These are simple stones, but what a beauty! Like a Christmas tree garland among the black October branches. Silver would have been more openwork and lighter, but... If the lampshade had been silver, it probably would not have seemed so beautiful. And it’s unlikely that the silver lampshade would have survived to this day. Three revolutions, two wars, and other life turns. Why, it’s a lampshade, it’s incomprehensible to my mind how they managed to defend the house.

In memory of my son Zhenya

dedicated to

Cannot be returned or exchanged...

...Products made of precious metals, with precious stones, made of precious metals with inserts of semi-precious and synthetic stones, cut precious stones.

(The list was approved by Decree of the Government of the Russian Federation dated January 19, 1998 No. 55 (as amended on January 27, 2009))

Soon everything will be covered in chocolate! - Lana stretched her seductively lush body flexibly, sighed dreamily, squinted her eyes - ugh. The dark wood of the antique wardrobe did not reflect a damn thing! So, some vague shadows. That's how many times I begged her to at least put normal furniture in the bedroom - and at least Italian furniture! So that there are mirrors, and all around there is white and gold, like some French kings, Louis, or something, everything glitters, sparkles, sparkles - beauty! It’s not that this junk is sad, as if it was dragged from a landfill, by God! Like an antique! Since it is an antique, it belongs in a museum, among the same dull exhibits - boring! And he’s not a moron at all! I'm as boring as this wardrobe! Either way - Dan! As soon as he looks at it, fireworks light up inside! And butterflies, butterflies, butterflies flutter! What a handsome man! Well, just like in the magazine pictures, honestly!

Lord, what happiness she had! And it will be even better, everything will be fabulously beautiful! This is absolutely clear. Not like those misty shadows deep in the dark wood. Probably, after all, it wasn’t worth having a date at home, you never know, it’s the middle of the day... Oh, okay! The idiot is sure that he bought Lana with all her giblets, that she just doesn’t pray for him. He’s so sure, he’s so sure - how can he guess anything! It won’t even cross my mind!

Are you sure?

Still would! Lana personally worked hard to ensure that everything worked out as it should. If you want something done well, do it yourself.

Sveta felt a triumph that she wanted to celebrate. That's why she called Dan right here to her nest. I really wanted to tell Danchik that the matter with the bracelet had been settled and now everything was covered in chocolate, or even better - in diamonds... But she still bit her tongue. Well, I sort of bit it. She, of course, would not hide anything from Dan. But not yet. Not because he doesn’t trust - in no case! Are you crazy or something, who should you trust if not him? Such love happens once in a lifetime, and not for everyone, it’s only shown in movies. Look how many times he said that it would be nice to go somewhere far away from all the pressing problems - somewhere in a quiet corner near the warm sea. And Lana will emerge from the gentle waves, illuminated by lunar silver, like a goddess - naked and beautiful! Well, it’s beautiful, really like in the movies!

She dived into the silk lake of the bed, pressed herself against the long, smooth, scaldingly cool body... Goddess, wow!

But this is not enough!

Lana turned to look at the clock hanging over the carved top of the wardrobe - whether it was time for them to get ready - and did not finish moving...

My throat was so tight that it was impossible to take another breath. Or was it the air itself that suddenly became unbreathable? He became cold and prickly, like the ice crumbs that remain after a truck rumbles across a frozen puddle. The sharp fragments sparkle merrily, shimmer, sparkle with a bright, cutting, diamond shine - but you can’t breathe in them, they scratch your throat, dig in, get stuck, you can’t push them further, to where the maddened, burning lungs scream in horror: air! Air! Just to breathe...

Memory of the Heart

The past is still alive

The last one didn't die

In whose memory is it alive?

Virgil

The snow did not fall - it hovered in the glass space outside the window. The sky behind him swirled pale orange, pinkish, peach.

It’s as if it’s not a smoky, gloomy metropolis below, but a fairy-tale castle.

She frowned slightly, peering into the silver snow sparks. Yes, right. Silver. Silver star-shaped mesh-web on pink rhodonite. However, no, rhodonite is rough. And not an eagle. And charoite will not work. Perhaps the moonstone is adularia? No, too “cold”, almost blue. Perhaps pink opal would be good, or pink garnet would be rhodolite. And among the carnelians, you will probably find the right shade. Earrings? Necklace? Brooch? Yes, the brooch is good. And a bracelet. And maybe a tiara. No symmetry, of course. For the VIP option, you can add more small, small diamonds, literally diamond chips, to the silver web.

It was as if she saw in front of her the fluid, unsteady lines and colors of future jewels. You don't have to sketch. She won't forget.

Who said that old age is sclerosis? And even more so, who said that seventy-something is old? Funny people.

Well, yes, of course, at seventy everything is not as easy as at twenty.

Everything is much easier. That's the thing.

And - no, perhaps the diamond chips will be superfluous. Too much. Too harsh, almost vulgar. And if someone “especially important” decides that carnelians in silver are too cheap... well, the hell with them!

Day by day, she understood more and more clearly the justice of her grandfather’s behest: the true value of a work of jewelry is not determined by the high cost of gems. One of the most beautiful Faberge eggs - “Lilies of the Valley”, enamel and pearls - would look much more elegant and piercing without the diamond-ruby crown crowning it.

It’s okay, the lampshade winked at the lights, you did it. And you did it. And you can handle it further, what are you afraid of?

Kat, also winking slyly, calls her the Queen of Gems. But what kind of queen is she? Except maybe the princess...

Happy Princess - this is how she, who always loved not only the play of stones, but also the play of words, translated her name. Princess - because Vasilievna. Vasily - the Russified Greek "basileus" - translated means "king". Well, Vasilievna turns out to be a Princess, right? And if anyone out there thinks that the princess is definitely something so young, let him think so. A princess - she is a princess even at seventy. Moreover... well, what, by God, does it matter what numbers are written on the passport? Inside, in my soul, it’s seething... well, not seventeen, of course, but... perhaps twenty-seven, twenty-eight. Approximately. When you are no longer poking at life as a half-blind little kitten, but - you understand. You understand everything you see. And - you rejoice, you rejoice at it all. Every day, every hour, every moment. This is happiness.

Yes, she's happy.

Happy - because Arcadia. And what? It may very well be. After all, ancient Greek Arcadia for dozens of centuries served as a symbol of a kind of pastoral, idyllic peace and serene happiness. It is unlikely that the real Peloponnesian province was really such a paradise, but the symbol exists! If living in Arcadia was considered a guarantee of a happy life, then the name should bring something like that, right?

Well, yes, it could very well be the other way around, and she made it all up for herself, but so what? She liked to think that way - both about her name and about herself.

Happy Princess.

Arkadia Vasilievna.

Arcadia the Second, to be precise.

She habitually stroked the bracelet, as always, marveling at the impeccable grace of its lines and noting: it brings happiness, not just the name.

A bracelet and maybe a house.

It seemed. Or, as the children say, it is itself.

Arkadia Vasilievna smiled.

Maybe on its own. The house was old and sometimes sighed. Not from poor health, in any case, the health of the mansion could be the envy of many new buildings - rather, simply from memories. She sighed too - deeply, long, sweetly. She stretched, arching her back strongly. She grinned and shook her head, remembering the clucking of the doctor, whom she called Vadik in her own way - after all, the son of an old friend, he grew up almost before our eyes. Arkadia Vasilyevna was terribly amused by his oohs and aahs:

My dear, it’s age! You need to take care of yourself, don’t strain yourself, follow the regime, don’t allow sudden movements, do only gentle gymnastics, otherwise you’re far from disaster.

It was especially funny about gentle gymnastics. Look who's Talking! Vadik, not quite forty, already had a fair amount of paunch and even climbed up to the second floor, to see Tatyana, with a gasp. Arkady, in his “over seventies”, takes off to the third, attic floor, without losing his breath, and Vadikov’s hints - they say, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to equip the mansion with an elevator, you, my dear, are quite provided for, to create the proper level of comfort for yourself - only with your head shakes and snorts. No really. I've seen enough. As soon as you begin to spare yourself, surround yourself with comfort and all that - or, simply put, indulge your own laziness - you will immediately turn into a flabby old woman. Or even worse. Looks like Vadik's mother. Red-haired Ritka, who during their common youth was known as one of the most reckless adventurers, has been lying for two years, broken by a stroke, even speaking with difficulty. All because after fifty I gave up on myself: just think, they say, twenty extra kilos, well, thirty, well, forty, age, well, why not treat yourself to a cake? So I spoiled myself. Arkadia Vasilyevna rarely visited her ex-friend - it’s very hard to feel your own powerlessness, it all seems that you are to blame for something, maybe if you had been more persistent in your exhortations, and such a tragedy would not have happened. And no matter how much you convince yourself that it’s not your fault, it’s already impossible to help, it’s terrible.

Yes, even without tragedies - it’s a shame, as you look at some. For the majority, to be honest.

Old men. Real old people.

Even those who are still swaggering...

There's Kolenka Gornostaev, who just called for the third time just now, reminding us that the anniversary is coming, don't forget your old friend. Friend, of course! Even funny.

Friend, you have to say this, Arkadia Vasilievna grinned sarcastically.

But the old one - yes, yes, even though Kolenka is invigorated, and goes to massage therapists, and maybe even, scary to think, to plastic surgeons, and seduces young ingenues, as if he is proving to someone that he is not an old man, but quite the opposite - brave and cheerful. Funny. The ingénue-debutantes and students from his seminar are certainly not ready to fall into his arms in batches because of this mythical bravado, just with permission. Master! The master is a master, but - alas. It would be nice to have gray hair, it only gives significance to many people. Look how the gray wig suited Kolenka, worn for the role of Aduev in “An Ordinary Story”! But what about gray hair! Kolenka became heavy, flabby, and dissatisfied lines hung from the corners of his mouth, like those of an elderly spaniel. And no matter how hard the virtuosos of tailoring try, you can’t hide the tummy sticking out from under their masterpieces.

Should I go to Gornostaev’s for his anniversary or what? So as not to be upset, looking at the ruins of past heroes...

Lelik, with whom Kat always teases her - there, she says, look no matter how you look at the TV, he won’t become Deputy Prime Minister today or tomorrow. I rushed through, my friend, now I would be behind him, like behind a stone wall, like cheese in butter. Oh well. Lelik will either become Deputy Prime Minister or not, but he became a barrel of lard a long time ago. A wheel of cheese in butter, yes, yes, yes. Even in his youth, Arkadia didn’t like him - a petty, vain soul, thoroughly imbued with ambition - he would even sell himself to the devil, if only he could climb higher. He, it seems, courted Arkadia not because of any feelings, not even because of primitive lust (you can’t deceive a woman: he didn’t want her one bit, not one bit; he didn’t want anything at all except proximity to power), but out of a desire for prestige: to have this independent beauty as a mistress would be more than flattering. And not only as a mistress, he also asked her to marry, though not too persistently. Arkadia didn’t think for a moment then: get married?! For “this”?!! It’s not even funny, it’s simply disgusting... Although at that time Lelik looked more or less decent. And now - ugh, it’s sickening to even look at it.

The famous lawyer Rudolf Mikhailovich is still good, one of the few who is still pleasant to look at today. And let's talk - and at all! Their romance once began with conversations: about the painting of the Italian Renaissance and legal incidents in literary works, about the difficulties of translation and techniques for manipulating mass consciousness, about the fusion of East and West in Russian art and the philosophical schools of antiquity. About everything. It was terribly, terribly interesting to be with him. And not at all because of his fame. To tell the truth, Arcadia didn’t give a damn about lawyer’s – or any other – fame. Rudolf Mikhailovich later, when their romance had more or less successfully ended, made a name for himself in the high-profile trial of Sokolov, the thieving director of the Eliseevsky grocery store. The lawyers then failed to save the odious client, but the ratings, as they call it now, of the lawyers involved in the case, of course, skyrocketed.

My eldest has completely turned into a computer application. You know, Archie,” he still called her by this name invented once upon a time, “I can’t even imagine how to tear her away from this box.” You won’t believe it, all day long she sits as if glued, almost never leaving the house. And it would be good if she got busy with work, otherwise it’s a monkey’s joy. No, I’m not against technological progress, I use it myself: the mail is there, searching for everything you need, news of legislation and everything else, the work is like that, you have to keep your finger on the pulse. Again, electronic archives are much more convenient than paper ones: they don’t take up space, they’re a pleasure to organize, and they’re nothing to sneeze at. But Sonya doesn’t do anything like that, she just kills time - like texting with friends. They compare photos of cats to see who gets the most pluses. Calling it correspondence is like putting a vase of plaster apples on the table, eat, dear guests! My parents even called a psychologist, but what was the point? No, they would take her and send her on some kind of hike so that she could smell real life, or they would take her around Europe... Yes, even by force! But no, they are terribly busy... By God, it would be better if she ran around discos, or whatever they are called today. Of course, there is no gift there either, there are drugs in every club toilet, shouldn’t I, a fashionable lawyer, know?.. But drugs are still not an obligatory element, but a potential risk. And so - some kind of living life. Do you remember how we...

Arkadia smiled sadly, remembering not “like us,” but her own grandson. Balka also hangs out on his computer for hours. Either he says that he is looking for educational materials, he got the hang of it at university, and now, in graduate school, he uses the same methods, then he even seems to be working part-time. Well maybe, maybe. And as if glued to the monitor, it still doesn’t sit, it crawls out into the light. Although somehow everything is for fun. Yes, it's time, it's time for him to... what did Rudolph say? It’s time to bring Balka back to “living life”. The family property must fall into safe hands. The door of Ali Baba's cave cannot be opened to everyone, oh, not to everyone. Even if he is his own grandson.

So yes, it’s probably good that Rudolf Mikhailovich never turned from lover to husband. But Arkadia Vasilyevna has a good - reliable, which is surprising given his love frivolity - friend.

In memory of my son Zhenya

dedicated to

© Rezepkin O., 2016

© Design. LLC Publishing House E, 2016

Cannot be returned or exchanged...

...Products made of precious metals, with precious stones, made of precious metals with inserts of semi-precious and synthetic stones, cut precious stones.

(The list was approved by Decree of the Government of the Russian Federation dated January 19, 1998 No. 55 (as amended on January 27, 2009))

- Are you sure?

Still would! Lana personally worked hard to ensure that everything worked out as it should. If you want something done well, do it yourself.

She dived into the silk lake of the bed, pressed herself against the long, smooth, scaldingly cool body... Goddess, wow!

But this is not enough!

Lana turned to look at the clock hanging over the carved finial of the wardrobe to see if it was time for them to get ready - and did not finish moving...

Chapter 1
Memory of the Heart

The past is still alive

The last one didn't die

In whose memory is it alive?

The snow did not fall - it hovered in the glass space outside the window. The sky behind him swirled pale orange, pinkish, peach.

It’s as if it’s not a smoky, gloomy metropolis below, but a fairy-tale castle.

It was as if she saw in front of her the fluid, unsteady lines and colors of future jewels. You don't have to sketch. She won't forget.

Who said that old age is sclerosis? Moreover, who said that seventy-something is old? Funny people.

Well, yes, of course, at seventy everything is not as easy as at twenty.

Everything is much easier. That's the thing.

It’s okay, the lampshade winked at the lights, you did it. And you did it. And you can handle it further, what are you afraid of?

Kat, also winking slyly, calls her the Queen of Gems. But what kind of queen is she? Except maybe the princess...

Yes, she's happy.

Happy - because Arcadia. And what? It may very well be. After all, ancient Greek Arcadia for dozens of centuries served as a symbol of a kind of pastoral, idyllic peace and serene happiness. It is unlikely that the real Peloponnesian province was really such a paradise, but the symbol exists! If living in Arcadia was considered a guarantee of a happy life, then the name should bring something like that, right?

Well, yes, it could very well be the other way around, and she made it all up for herself, but so what? She liked to think that way—both about her name and about herself.

Happy Princess.

Arkadia Vasilievna.

Arcadia the Second, to be precise.

She habitually stroked the bracelet, as always, marveling at the impeccable grace of its lines and noting: it brings happiness, not just the name.

A bracelet and maybe a house.

It seemed. Or, as the children say, it is itself.

Arkadia Vasilievna smiled.

Maybe on its own. The house was old and sometimes sighed. Not from poor health, in any case, the health of the mansion could be the envy of many new buildings - rather, simply from memories. She sighed too—deep, long, sweet. She stretched, arching her back strongly. She grinned and shook her head, remembering the clucking of the doctor, whom she called Vadik in her own way - after all, the son of an old friend, he grew up almost before our eyes. Arkadia Vasilyevna was terribly amused by his oohs and aahs:

It was especially funny about gentle gymnastics. Look who's Talking! Vadik, not quite forty, already had a fair amount of paunch and even climbed up to the second floor, to see Tatyana, with a gasp. Arkady, in his “over seventies”, takes off to the third, attic floor, without losing his breath, and Vadikov’s hints - they say, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to equip the mansion with an elevator, you, my dear, are quite provided for, to create the proper level of comfort for yourself - only with your head shakes and snorts. No really. I've seen enough. As soon as you begin to spare yourself, surround yourself with comfort and all that - and, simply put, indulge your own laziness - you will immediately turn into a flabby old woman. Or even worse. Looks like Vadik's mother. Red-haired Ritka, who during their common youth was known as one of the most reckless adventurers, has been lying for two years, broken by a stroke, even speaking with difficulty. All because after fifty I gave up on myself: just think, they say, twenty extra kilos, well, thirty, well, forty, age, well, why not treat yourself to a cake? So I spoiled myself. Arkadia Vasilyevna rarely visited her ex-friend - it’s very hard to feel your own powerlessness, it all seems that you are to blame for something, maybe if you had been more persistent in your exhortations, and such a tragedy would not have happened. And no matter how much you convince yourself that it’s not your fault, it’s already impossible to help, it’s terrible.

Yes, even without tragedies - it’s a shame, as you look at some. For the majority, to be honest.

Old men. Real old people.

Even those who are still swaggering...

There’s Kolenka Gornostaev, who called for the third time just now, reminding us that the anniversary is coming, don’t forget your old friend. Friend, of course! Even funny.

Friend, you have to say this, Arkadia Vasilievna grinned sarcastically.

But the old one - yes, yes, even though Kolenka is invigorated, and goes to massage therapists, and maybe even, scary to think, to plastic surgeons, and seduces young ingenues, as if he is proving to someone that he is not an old man, but quite the opposite - brave and cheerful. Funny. The ingénue-debutantes and students from his seminar are certainly not ready to fall into his arms in batches because of this mythical bravado, just with permission. Master! He's a master, but alas. It would be nice to have gray hair, it only gives significance to many people. Look how the gray wig suited Kolenka, worn for the role of Aduev in “An Ordinary Story”! But what about gray hair! Kolenka became heavy, flabby, and dissatisfied lines hung from the corners of his mouth, like those of an elderly spaniel. And no matter how hard the virtuosos of tailoring try, you can’t hide the tummy sticking out from under their masterpieces.

Should I go to Gornostaev’s for his anniversary or what? So as not to be upset, looking at the ruins of past heroes...

The famous lawyer Rudolf Mikhailovich is still good, one of the few who is still pleasant to look at today. And let’s talk – and at all! Their romance once began with conversations: about the painting of the Italian Renaissance and legal incidents in literary works, about the difficulties of translation and techniques for manipulating mass consciousness, about the fusion of East and West in Russian art and the philosophical schools of antiquity. About everything. It was terribly, terribly interesting to be with him. And not at all because of his fame. To tell the truth, Arcadia didn’t give a damn about her lawyer’s – or any other – fame. Rudolf Mikhailovich later, when their romance had more or less successfully ended, made a name for himself in the high-profile trial of Sokolov, the thieving director of the Eliseevsky grocery store. The lawyers then failed to save the odious client, but the ratings, as they call it now, of the lawyers involved in the case, of course, skyrocketed.

“My eldest has completely turned into a computer application.” You know, Archie,” he still called her by this name invented once upon a time, “I can’t even imagine how to tear her away from this box.” You won’t believe it, all day long she sits as if glued, almost never leaving the house. And it would be good if she got busy with work, otherwise it’s a monkey’s joy. No, I’m not against technological progress, I use it myself: the mail is there, searching for everything you need, news of legislation and everything else, the work is like that, you have to keep your finger on the pulse. Again, electronic archives are much more convenient than paper ones: they don’t take up space, they’re a pleasure to organize, and they’re nothing to sneeze at. But Sonya doesn’t do anything like that, she just kills time - like texting with friends. They compare photos of cats to see who gets the most pluses. Calling it correspondence is like putting a vase of plaster apples on the table, eat, dear guests! My parents even called a psychologist, but what was the point? No, they would take her and send her on some kind of hike so that she could smell real life, or they would take her around Europe... Yes, even by force! But no, they are terribly busy... By God, it would be better if she ran around discos, or whatever they are called today. Of course, there is no gift there either, there are drugs in every club toilet, shouldn’t I, a fashionable lawyer, know?.. But drugs are still not an obligatory element, but a potential risk. And so - some kind of living life. Do you remember how we...

Arkadia smiled sadly, remembering not “like us,” but her own grandson. Balka also hangs out on his computer for hours. Either he says that he is looking for educational materials, he got the hang of it at university, and now, in graduate school, he uses the same methods, then he even seems to be working part-time. Well maybe, maybe. And as if glued to the monitor, it still doesn’t sit, it crawls out into the light. Although somehow everything is for fun. Yes, it's time, it's time for him to... what did Rudolph say? It’s time to bring Balka back to “living life”. The family property must fall into safe hands. The door of Ali Baba's cave cannot be opened to everyone, oh, not to everyone. Even if he is his own grandson.

So yes, it’s probably good that Rudolf Mikhailovich never turned from lover to husband. But Arkadia Vasilievna has a good - reliable, which is surprising given his love frivolity - friend.

So go to Gornostaev for the anniversary or... It’s true that we haven’t seen Kolenka for a long time, but at such a celebration you can’t really communicate with the culprit. This means you’ll have to jostle around in a crowd you know by heart, look at outfits and jewelry, and exchange phrases of varying degrees of politeness. Fat Vika, the wife of one of the “cultural leaders,” will hiss through her teeth: good for you, you’re so slim, you’re lucky with your genetics, you haven’t gained a single kilogram with age, and no diets help others, your body is plumping up by leaps and bounds , and everyone here, over there, they say that swimming helps you lose weight, but it’s all a lie, if it’s inherent in nature, then you could even drown in the pool, but you won’t lose the weight.

Diets, you see, don't help her. Arkadia saw how she cracked the cakes - and then her round, surprised eyes: I even drink tea, she says, without sugar, and still I’m getting fat, horror!

Maybe fly to Goa for a week? Where the temperature of both water and air is plus twenty-eight all year round. Or to Hawaii, for example? Just put everything planned aside and fly away, huh? To misbehave. Learn to stand on a nimble board, which is rocked on its heavy back by the largest ocean on Earth?

But postponing what is planned is a bad omen. There will be no way. So right now, flying to salt water won’t work. And why is there no ocean near Moscow? Or at least the sea. Only swimming pools with their artificial currents and marmalade water. You're splashing around in a dead trough. Although many people seem to like it. And she has this whim: no matter what they say about the benefits of swimming pools for maintaining the notorious shape, she does not like them. Does not love. And I never loved.

So, in some ways, Vika is right: Arkadia Vasilievna has not gained a single kilogram with age. And it’s not about the kilograms themselves – it’s about mobility. They still call her “girl” from behind: fit, slender, with a light, flying step. Well, with the face and neck, of course, everything is not so radiant. Once upon a time, I remember, they talked about such a discrepancy: there is a lyceum in the back, a museum in front. However, she herself is still far from being a “museum”. Physical activity combined with a contrast shower is very, you know, a good “preservation”. Pumping crazy amounts of money into cosmetologists, like Kat's beloved friend, always seemed... not entirely appropriate to Arcadia. Grooming is yes, but without fanaticism. After all, at their age, it’s not their plump lips and smooth cheeks that attract attention, but their charm. Arkadia’s may not be as stunningly brilliant as Kat’s, who is all fireworks dissolved in a glass of champagne, but quite, completely. A very charming charm. There may not be a crowd of fans, but two or three are always ready. And not just any runts or, more than aspirations, underage gigolos.

When Kat was called frivolous, she just chuckled contentedly: well, I’m Countess Bobrinskaya, why shouldn’t I be frivolous - with such and such a pedigree! Really.

Kat claimed that she had inherited her love of love and cheerful disposition from Catherine herself and even seemed to be proud of her frivolity.

* * *

- Well, you, too, you know, are not the height of prudence. - Kat funny wrinkled her still charming nose and waved her narrow palm, calling the waiter - like, more coffee, please. – This idea of yours is pure adventure. Don't you mind the bracelet? I thought he was like a part of you. Amulet. Mascot. Amulet. How can you give up your own amulet?

From an engineering point of view, the most difficult part was unexpectedly the plumbing. She despaired. The masters despaired. They despaired - and again set about turning the ancient, almost overgrown web of pipes into... well, into a water supply system, actually. And when, finally, sinks, faucets, and showers began working in all the kitchens and bathrooms of the mansion, it was like the beginning of some new life. The water became crystal clear, bluish, like in Lake Geneva, as if even sweet. Arkadia Vasilievna also installed a jacuzzi in her personal bathroom! At the insistence of Kat, who always adored all sorts of such things. The Jacuzzi was, of course, very pleasant, no doubt about it. But still, the main treasure was the most luxurious shower cabin, with a million sparkling handles and levers, looking like a spaceship! Arcadia stood under the prickly streams, feeling each of them with her aging skin - and it was such a sharp, such youthful, bodily happiness that everything else looked funny, insignificant trifles. What old age, what are you talking about, when you can take such a shower at least ten times a day!

A cute, like a Christmas tree decoration, an Italian restaurant ten minutes walk from the mansion turned out to be very useful then, during the renovation “cataclysms”. Faced with another “unsolvable dilemma,” Arcadia called Kat, and they sat for hours over a delicious cappuccino, discussing which direction to move the renovation forward. The place was not a busy place, there were no crowds of visitors, it was comfortable and calm to sit. Arkadia Vasilievna feared that the restaurant, lost in the web of quiet alleys of distant Zamoskvorechye, would not last long. But no, it didn’t go bankrupt, it even grew a little - now in the summer you could sit in the “Italian courtyard” hidden behind the main hall. The ivy that covered the lattice wall lazily moved its carved leaves. On the tiled floor, nimble sunbeams were playing catch-up. It smelled of heated stone and even, it seemed, of the sea. However, why “seems”? Maybe it really is by sea. There are probably some special flavors? With sea salt, for example, with algae extracts and all sorts of things that weave into a complex, but absolutely recognizable “sea” aroma.

The main “winter” room smelled of pine needles, lemon, polish, candle wax and, of course, coffee.

Arkadia Vasilievna took a tiny sip and stroked the bracelet with one finger:

- Do you know? No pity. And this amulet is not mine, strictly speaking.

“But you always said...” Kat frowned her perfect eyebrows in bewilderment. - A family talisman, they say...

Arkadia Vasilyevna made a precise point about guardian angels. The Bobrinsky family - well, at least the branch on which Kat eventually blossomed - was almost unaffected by any of the historical cataclysms that the 20th century was so rich in. Her grandmother, who got married at the beginning of it, really didn’t like her husband’s estate. And he, ready to even take the moon out of the sky for the sake of his adored wife, let alone set up any estate he wanted, immediately rushed to fulfill the whim of his, as he said, mistress. The estate was successfully sold, and while they were looking for a suitable one, the young couple traveled around Europe. Well, we traveled and had more fun. The mood was somewhat spoiled by the sudden outbreak of the First World War, but the war is somewhere out there, far away, right? It’s quiet in Switzerland, and frivolous Paris, in general, didn’t remember anything so terrible. At the beginning of the seventeenth year, the young couple began to hear rumors about some unrest in Russia. Almost a revolution, what a horror, truly. Their fifth year was not enough! They decided to postpone the purchase of the estate until calmer times; just in case, the capital was transferred to Switzerland. So, when the October Revolution broke out after the February Revolution, the affairs of the young family were much better than those of the overwhelming majority of the Russian nobility. And when little Sophie was born to the still passionately in love spouses, everything became completely wonderful. What a war, what a revolution, what are you talking about! Everything is great with us, but if someone is not doing so well, then... well, you know, it’s a shame, of course, but what do we have to do with it?