Nelli, dear,” said Vera Nikolaevna with a hint of irony, “I only acted out of the best intentions. You have no idea how things are done in our family…”
“— In your family, perhaps,” Nelli replied, carefully unfolding the blueprints on the table. “But now we’re talking about my home and the New Year celebration.”
“— Yours?” the mother-in-law gracefully settled into her armchair. “And Anton? Isn’t he part of the family?”
Nelli put down her pencil and turned to her interlocutor:
“— Vera Nikolaevna, let’s be honest. I bought this apartment on my own before marriage. I spent ten years working for an international firm, saved money, and paid off the mortgage… This is my property, and I set the rules here.”
“— Again with these talks of independence!” Vera Nikolaevna adjusted her impeccably styled gray locks. “In our generation…”
“— Everything was different in your generation,” Nelli calmly retorted. “Now times have changed. And I plan to…”
“— I know, I know your plans,” the mother-in-law interrupted. “Some trendy reception with the neighbors instead of a family celebration. Anton told me everything.”
Nelli silently counted to ten. Calm, only calm. She was a professional architect, accustomed to solving complex problems.
“— Yes, I want to invite the neighbors. Not just a reception, but a full-blown celebration. Because…”
At that moment, the door banged, and Anton entered the room:
“— Mom! You’re already here…”
His voice carried a slight note of guilt. Nelli understood why – they had agreed to discuss the situation together, but Vera Nikolaevna, as usual, had arrived early.
“— Toscha, explain to your wife,” the mother-in-law quickly interjected, “that New Year is a family holiday. It’s a tradition…”
“— Mom,” Anton sat down on the edge of the table, “we talked about this. Times change. Besides, our neighbors…”
“What neighbors?” Vera Nikolaevna raised her hands in surprise. “Why should we care about outsiders? You have a mother, a wife…”
“And a spacious apartment,” Nelli firmly added. “Where everyone who feels lonely during the holidays can fit in.”
“— And are you acquainted with these people?” Vera Nikolaevna raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Who are they, anyway?”
Nelli smiled, recalling recent conversations in the courtyard:
“— Of course I know them. Take, for example, Margarita from apartment fifteen…”
“— The one who’s always running around with boxes?” interrupted Vera Nikolaevna.
“— She’s a pastry chef,” Nelli continued unflappably. “She creates stunning custom cakes. She mastered the profession on her own without formal education. She dreams of opening her own pastry shop.”
“— Dreams she does,” Vera Nikolaevna snorted disdainfully. “In our time…”
“— Mom,” Anton gently interjected, “do you remember how she started in school? First, she was an ordinary teacher, and then she became a principal.”
The mother-in-law fell silent, clearly not expecting such a comparison.
“— And there are the Vorobyovs,” Nelli went on. “A wonderful older couple. Their granddaughter Liza has been living with them for the third year. Her parents work in Germany under a contract…”
“And so what?” Vera Nikolaevna pressed her lips together, but there was a new tone in her voice.
“— The little girl misses her parents. Especially during the holidays. If you only saw how she looks at the family photos…”
Anton approached the window:
“— And look, by the way, here comes Oleg. Our new neighbor, a pediatrician.”
“— The one who recently moved in?” Vera Nikolaevna inquired with interest. “Is he a distinguished gentleman?”
“— Exactly,” Nelli nodded. “After his divorce, he rented an apartment. His daughter stayed with his ex-wife. They meet rarely…”
Silence fell over the room. The sound of water dripping from the kitchen was audible.
“— And what do you propose?” the mother-in-law finally asked, but without her previous insistence.
“— I propose to create a truly festive atmosphere,” Nelli moved to the window, standing beside her husband. “Not just a banquet, but an evening where everyone feels significant. Margarita can bake a cake…”
“— One for all?” Vera Nikolaevna skeptically clarified.
“— Knowing Margarita’s character, she’ll bake three,” Anton smiled. “And each will be a masterpiece.”
“— Liza will be able to talk to her parents via video call,” Nelli continued. “In a large company, it isn’t as sad as being alone with grandma and grandpa.”
“— And Oleg?” Vera Nikolaevna, trying to maintain her sternness, managed to ask.
“— Oleg… He tells stories from his practice splendidly. The children adore him.”
“— Yesterday, he treated our cat for free,” Anton added. “He said he loves animals.”
Vera Nikolaevna walked around the room. On the wall hung photographs – Nelli with her parents in Paris, Anton defending his dissertation, their wedding photo…
“— And where do you plan to put the Christmas tree?” she suddenly asked.
Nelli and Anton exchanged glances. That was a good sign.
“— By the panoramic window in the living room,” Nelli answered. “There’s plenty of space and a beautiful view.”
“— And where will you hang the ornaments?” Vera Nikolaevna stopped by the photographs. “Modern plastic ones?”
Anton coughed quietly: “— Actually, Mom… We wanted to ask you. You still have those, the old ones? From Grandma…”
Something flickered in the mother-in-law’s face:
“— They’re still around… I take them out every year, dust them off. But what’s the use? In my two-room apartment, there isn’t even room for a tree…”
At that moment, the doorbell rang. At the threshold stood Margarita, clearly flustered:
“— Nelli, sorry for the disturbance! I urgently need some advice!”
“— Please come in,” Nelli invited her neighbor. “What’s wrong?”
“— You see, I got an order for a wedding cake. A three-tier cake!” Margarita spoke quickly, gesticulating. “I’ve never made anything so big before. And they want columns, like in a real palace…”
“— Columns?” Vera Nikolaevna asked with interest. “Like in architecture?”
“— Yes!” Margarita pulled out her phone with photographs. “Something like this, approximately. But I’m afraid the structure won’t hold up…”
“— You know what,” Vera Nikolaevna said unexpectedly, taking the phone. “Show me those sketches again. I did study architecture once, even though I later chose a pedagogical path…”
Nelli watched as the two women leaned over the phone’s screen. The mother-in-law explained something about supporting structures while Margarita took diligent notes.
“— Are you really competent in architecture?” the pastry chef asked in surprise.
“— Oh, no…” Vera Nikolaevna blushed. “Just something that stuck in my memory…”
“— May I… may I ask for more advice?” Margarita timidly inquired. “I have so many ideas, but sometimes I lack the knowledge…”
Vera Nikolaevna looked at her daughter-in-law questioningly:
“— Nelli is a professional architect; she’ll help you better…”
“— Nelli has a different specialty,” Anton softly countered. “And you, Mom, were always fond of historical architecture. Remember how we used to look through albums together?”
At that moment, children’s voices came from the staircase landing. Nelli looked out – Liza Vorobyova was speaking on the phone with her parents:
“— Mom, everything’s fine… Yes, Grandma and Grandpa are taking care of me… I’m not sad…”
Despite her confident words, the little girl’s voice betrayed restrained tears.
“— Liza!” Nelli called. “Please come in!”
The girl raised her reddened eyes, “— May I?”
“— Of course!” Nelli answered. “We’re just discussing the palace-cake.”
Liza timidly entered, still holding the phone to her ear:
“— Mom, I’ll call back… Aunt Nelli called…”
Vera Nikolaevna looked intently at the child. Slim, wearing glasses, with a tousled braid – she looked just like Vera Nikolaevna herself when her parents left on a long business trip…
“— Do you like sweets?” she suddenly asked everyone.
Liza nodded.
“— Then you’re in luck,” the mother-in-law smiled. “Margarita is a real fairy. She makes cakes that are like actual palaces.”
“— Really?” the girl’s eyes lit up. “May I see them?”
Margarita happily began showing photos of her creations. Liza gasped in admiration, especially when it came to the cake in the shape of a fairy-tale castle.
“— I want to make something like this for New Year,” Margarita announced. “But I’m not sure if it will work…”
“— It definitely will!” Vera Nikolaevna declared confidently. “I’ll help with the calculations. And Liza…” she turned to the girl. “Maybe you could help with the decorations? After all, you’re quite good at drawing?”
“— How do you know?” Liza asked in surprise.
“— From the traces of paint on your fingers,” the mother-in-law said with a gentle smile. “And I can see your drawing album.”
At that moment, the doorbell rang again. At the threshold stood Oleg, their neighbor doctor, carrying a small package.
“— Sorry to disturb you,” he began. “But here’s the thing…”
A soft mewing could be heard from inside the package.
“— I found a kitten near the hospital,” Oleg explained. “A very little one, all shivering. I examined and warmed him up, but I can’t keep him – my daughter is allergic, and she’s coming for the weekend…”
“— How adorable!” Liza exclaimed, peering into the package.
“— It’s a boy,” Oleg smiled. “Ginger, like a sunset.”
To everyone’s surprise, Vera Nikolaevna stepped forward:
“— Let me take him. I’ve been meaning to…” she faltered. “I’ve long wanted to have a cat.”
Nelli and Anton exchanged glances. They had never seen the mother-in-law so… lively? Genuine?
“— And how do you plan to celebrate the holiday?” Oleg asked. “After all, your daughter is coming, and this is our first celebration after the divorce…”
“— We…” Nelli began.
“— We’ll celebrate together!” Vera Nikolaevna suddenly declared. “Nelli and Anton have a spacious apartment; there’s room enough. And the tree will have real glass ornaments. And the castle cake, right, Margarita? And now even a kitten…”
She paused, noticing the surprise on her daughter-in-law’s face:
“— So… if you don’t mind, of course. After all, it’s your home…”
Nelli felt a lump in her throat. That moment, when her domineering mother-in-law suddenly became just a person, was nothing short of a miracle.
“— Of course I don’t mind,” Nelli embraced her mother-in-law by the shoulders. “I’ve been suggesting exactly this from the start.”
“— May I… may I call my parents?” Liza timidly asked. “I want to tell them about the castle-cake and the kitten…”
“— And that we’re celebrating together!” Margarita added. “By the way, why not make several little castles instead of one big one? One for each family?”
“— Excellent idea!” Vera Nikolaevna perked up. “I know a cream recipe that holds its shape wonderfully…”
Oleg smiled, watching the lively discussion:
“— You know, Nastya adores castles. She’s even writing a book about a princess who…”
“— Really?” Liza turned to him. “I’m writing one too! Only mine is about a sorceress who helps lonely people find one another.”
“— How old are you?” Oleg asked.
“— Thirteen. And Nastya?”
“— Twelve. You two could become friends…”
Anton quietly tugged Nelli aside:
“— Look at what’s happening. They’re already making plans, discussing…”
“— And your mom,” Nelli whispered, “look at her eyes. It’s as if she’s become young again.”
At that moment, Vera Nikolaevna was animatedly explaining something to Margarita, gesturing with her hands:
“— Between the columns, you could create lace arches. I’ll show you my albums…”
“— Shall we take a look right now?” Margarita proposed. “The batter is ready for a test cake…”
“— And I’m joining you!” Liza chimed in excitedly. “May I?”
“— And shall we bring the kitten along?” Oleg asked. “He’s already warmed up.”
“— Of course!” Vera Nikolaevna gently took the package. “He will be our talisman.”
They headed for the door – Vera Nikolaevna with the kitten, Margarita with her sketches, Liza with her drawing album. Oleg offered to see them out – “and I’ll also tell you about the baby’s dietary regime.”
At the doorway, Vera Nikolaevna looked back:
“— Nelli… Thank you.”
“— For what?”
“— For…,” she hesitated, “for not being afraid to change traditions. Sometimes we cling so tightly to the old that we don’t notice life passing us by.”
She left, and Nelli stood by the window for a long time, watching the little procession cross the yard. Vera Nikolaevna was talking, Margarita was laughing, Liza was dancing nearby, and Oleg was carrying someone’s packages.
“— What are you thinking about?” Anton embraced her.
“— That sometimes you just need to let people be themselves. Without masks, without roles…”
The following days passed in a flurry of pre-holiday excitement. Nelli and Anton’s apartment gradually transformed. In the corner by the panoramic window, a fluffy Christmas tree appeared, chosen by the entire company.
“— No, this one is too tall,” Vera Nikolaevna critically inspected the next tree.
“— But it’s fluffy!” Liza countered.
“— And such ornaments will look beautiful on it,” added Margarita.
Oleg, who had offered to help with delivery, laughed: “— Ladies, can we decide? Otherwise, my friend with the car is waiting.”
In the end, they chose exactly the tree that caught Liza’s eye – tall and fluffy. Vera Nikolaevna unexpectedly agreed easily:
“— You know what?” Vera Nikolaevna squinted mischievously. “I happen to have plenty of ornaments, and your ceilings allow for it…”
In the evenings, they unpacked boxes of antique decorations together. Each ornament was wrapped in time-yellowed paper, each had its own story.
“— I brought this nutcracker from Germany, my father did,” the mother-in-law recounted as she carefully removed a figurine. “And this little house…” she fell silent. “It was the last gift from my husband.”
Nelli gently took the ornament:
“— It’s exquisite. Such delicate work…”
“— You know what?” Vera Nikolaevna suddenly suggested. “Let’s each hang something on the tree that is special to us. Something meaningful.”
“— I have a brooch,” Liza said quietly. “My mom left it before she left. She said it was for memory…”
“— And I can make caramel ornaments,” Margarita exclaimed. “They’ll shine like real jewels!”
“— And as for us and Nastya…” Oleg began and then paused. “I mean, I wanted to say…”
“— What about Nastya?” Nelli gently asked.
“— She makes paper stars. Very special ones. She says you can make wishes on them.”
“— That’s perfect!” Vera Nikolaevna concluded. “It won’t just be a tree, but…”
“— A Tree of Wishes!” Liza exclaimed.
“— And stories,” Nelli added.
From then on, evenings were often spent together. Margarita experimented with her castle-cakes, Vera Nikolaevna offered professional advice on architectural details, Liza drew sketches of decorations, and Oleg shared amusing stories from his practice. Oleg’s daughter, Nastya, sent photos of her paper stars, which Liza enthusiastically commented on.
Even the ginger kitten, Ryzhik, became part of their little community. He would sit proudly on the windowsill, watch what was happening, sometimes catch the tinsel or suddenly leap right onto the table.
“— I’d never have thought everything would come together like this,” Nelli confessed to her husband one day.
“— The most amazing thing,” Anton observed, “is that Mom no longer says ‘in our time.’ Now it’s only ‘let’s’ and ‘what if.’”
One evening, Vera Nikolaevna stayed longer than usual. She stood by the window, watching the snowdrift, and unexpectedly said:
“— You know, Nelli, I was wrong.”
“— About what?”
“— I thought that the main thing was tradition, that family meant the classic definition. But now I understand…”
“— I understand,” Vera Nikolaevna continued, “that family isn’t about walls and rules. It’s about people willing to open their hearts to each other.”
On December 31st, the apartment filled with voices and laughter. Margarita was conjuring up her castle-cakes – each guest had their own unique one. Liza helped hang the final decorations, glancing at the clock now and then – soon there would be a video call with her parents.
Vera Nikolaevna, unusually energetic, was setting out the formal dinnerware:
“— Can you imagine, I kept it for thirty years. I was waiting for a special occasion. And today I realized – this is the moment.”
Oleg arrived with his daughter Nastya – a slight girl with serious eyes. She immediately found common ground with Liza, and together they hung the paper stars.
“— Daddy, look!” Nastya showed one of the stars. “I wished for you to be happy.”
“— It seems your wish is already coming true.”
Ryzhik walked proudly among the guests, inviting pats and begging for treats. Occasionally, he would jump into Vera Nikolaevna’s lap, and she absentmindedly scratched his ear while continuing the conversation.
Exactly at ten o’clock in the evening, Liza’s parents called. On the big screen, their smiling faces appeared.
“— Mom! Dad!” Liza happily bounced. “Look how many we are! And the castle-cakes, and the tree, and the stars…”
“— And the cat!” added Liza’s mom upon noticing Ryzhik. “How fun you are…”
“— You know,” Vera Nikolaevna said unexpectedly, “your daughter writes beautiful stories. About a sorceress who helps lonely people find each other.”
“— Really?” her father asked in surprise. “She never told us…”
“— Because the story wasn’t finished yet,” Liza smiled. “And now I know how it will end.”
Margarita had just brought her cakes – true masterpieces. Each castle was unique: for Liza – a fairy-tale one with turrets and bridges; for Nastya – a mysterious one with stars and crescents; for Vera Nikolaevna – a classic one with columns and arches.
“— You know,” Nelli said unexpectedly as she looked around at everyone, “this really is my apartment.”
“— In what sense?” Vera Nikolaevna asked in surprise.
“— In the literal sense. A place where everyone can be themselves. Where there is no ‘right’ or ‘wrong.’ Where there is only love and acceptance.”
Anton embraced his wife:
“— And where new traditions are born.”
Outside, the snow fell, draping the city in a fluffy blanket. The apartment smelled of pine, vanilla, and cinnamon. Antique ornaments shimmered on the tree alongside homemade stars and caramel decorations. Ryzhik curled up under the tree, near a shoebox that now stored notes with wishes.
And Vera Nikolaevna looked at this celebration – so unusual, yet so genuine – and thought that sometimes you just need to let go and trust change. After all, the most important traditions are born not from rules, but from love.
And when the clock began to strike midnight, everyone in that room knew: they would definitely welcome the next year together. Because family isn’t defined by who you’re around. It’s defined by those without whom you can’t imagine your life.
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