The realization of her inheritance’s value filled her with awe and excitement. Kirill offered to help with the appraisal and sale of the books, explaining about auctions and private collectors willing to pay top dollar for rare editions. Olga thanked him, but asked for time to think. She hadn’t decided what to do with the library, sell it all at once, sell it gradually, or perhaps turn the house into a museum.
That same day, Olga decided to contact Uncle Petya, the son of her grandmother’s friend, mentioned in one of the letters. She found his number in an old address book from the safe. Uncle Petya was delighted to hear from her.
He remembered Olga as a little girl and recalled her grandmother, Maria Stepanovna. I always knew there was something special about that house, he said. Your grandmother was a wise woman. She always said, the greatest wealth isn’t money, it’s memory. Olga told Uncle Petya about the library, the letters, and her plans to restore the house. He listened attentively and offered his help. I may live far away, but I’m always ready to give advice, he said.
I have connections. I can introduce you to the right people, help you navigate the paperwork. Olga was grateful for Uncle Petya’s support. She felt she wasn’t alone in this, that she had an ally who shared her love for family history. That evening, her phone rang. It was Anton. Hey, Olga, she heard his voice.
How’s it going out there in the sticks? Everything’s fine, Anton, Olga replied calmly. How’s your apartment? It’s fine, Anton said evasively. Listen, I was thinking, maybe we got upset over the inheritance for no reason. What if we swapped? You give me the house and I’ll give you the apartment. Olga smirked.
You know, Anton, I’ve been thinking a lot too, she said. And I’ve decided I’m happy with what I have. I like the house. But there’s nothing there, Anton protested. It’s just a wreck. It has something far more valuable than any apartment, Olga replied. Memory, history, and I’m not trading that for anything, silence hung on the line.
Anton clearly hadn’t expected that response. Well, soothe yourself, he muttered finally. Don’t come crying to me later when I warned you. I won’t, Olga said firmly and hung up.
She looked out the window. Night had fallen. The house was quiet and cozy. Logs crackled in the fireplace, casting whimsical shadows on the walls. Olga felt a new, unfamiliar sensation, inner freedom, confidence, pride in herself and her family. She no longer felt deprived, unhappy, or abandoned. She was the master of her fate, her house, her inheritance.
And she knew she could handle whatever lay ahead. For the first time in a long while, Olga smiled genuinely from the heart. She stood up, walked to the window, and gazed at the starry sky. It felt like, among the stars, she could see her grandmother Maria Stepanovna’s smile. And that smile gave her strength to move forward. Olga returned to the fireplace, picked up an ancient book, and opened it to the first page. She began to read.
With every line, she sank deeper into the world of the past, her family’s world, a world she was only now beginning to understand and cherish. She felt a growing curiosity for history, literature, and art. She realized her grandmother hadn’t just left her a house and a library. She had left her a key, a self-discovery, to finding herself. And Olga was ready to use that key. Olga would stay in Zarechi, restore the house, study the library, learn everything about her family, and she would be happy. It was her choice.
And she was certain it was the right one, because it was made with her heart. Olga closed the book, turned off the light, and went to bed.
She fell asleep quickly and deeply. In her dreams, her grandmother smiled and said, I always believed in you, Olenka. You can do anything. And Olga believed it. She truly could do anything, because now she had a purpose. And that purpose was more important than anything in the world. The next morning, Olga woke up feeling light and joyful.
She stepped outside and breathed in the fresh village air. The sun shone brightly. Birds sang cheerfully. The world around her felt renewed and beautiful. Olga smiled. She was happy, and this was just the beginning.