Today, I arrived at the Malinowski residence, hoping to land a job.
“I’m right outside number 69,” I say into the phone, eyeing the towering fence that surrounds the property.
“Come on in through the gate and head to the front door. I’ll let you in,” Aunt Lydia’s voice cuts through the loud thumping of my pulse in my ears.
I take a tentative step toward the wrought-iron gate, glancing at the sign that reads “Garden Lane 69.” My mind wanders—there’s not a garden in sight, so why “Garden”? I linger, turning in place, delaying the inevitable. My nerves are buzzing, prickling the skin on my fingertips.
“I’m not sure about this. What if she doesn’t hire me?”
“Polina, no excuses,” Lydia snaps, irritation creeping into her tone. “I’ve already arranged everything for you. Nina Vasilivna is expecting you. So, shake off those doubts and get yourself onto the property. If I have to come out there and drag you in myself, I will. Do you want this job or not?”
“Yes, of course,” I reply, my breath catching. “But I don’t even have any experience…”
“Nina Vasilivna doesn’t care about that. She just wants a good, kind girl. The work isn’t hard—you’ll manage. We’re waiting for you.”
I slip the phone into my bag and take a few deep breaths. Alright, just calm down and be yourself. If they turn me down, it’s not the end of the world. I’ll keep looking.
I stand by the gate a moment longer, my fingers brushing against the cool iron. I wish I could be like this metal—strong, unyielding. But as always, I take everything too much to heart.
As I hesitate, the side gate swings open, and a young man steps out onto the sidewalk. It’s Vlad Malinowski himself, the local heartthrob millionaire and the son of the woman I’m here to work for. I didn’t expect to see him today, and he doesn’t even notice me.
He walks past, lost in thought, his expression dark, just a few steps away. I stand frozen, watching his retreating figure. Tall, dark-haired, dressed in a sharp business suit. Every single girl in our neighborhood swoons over him, and I’m no exception. He’s not married yet, though he’s got a serious girlfriend. That doesn’t stop me from following his social media, where he posts glimpses of his life.
Vlad approaches a sleek black car and unlocks it. He opens the driver’s side door, then suddenly turns and looks straight at me. Shock hits me first, followed by a wave of nerves. Our eyes meet for just a split second, but it’s enough to make my legs tremble and my heart pound wildly in my chest.
He gets into the car and drives off, probably forgetting I exist the moment he’s gone. But I know I’ll be replaying this moment in my head for a long time.
After running into Vlad, facing an interview with his mother doesn’t seem quite as daunting. I quickly make my way from the gate to the house along a wide pathway and press the doorbell. Aunt Lydia opens the door and ushers me inside. She’s been working here as a cleaner for years and knows every nook and cranny. She leads me confidently through a spacious, brightly lit hall, deeper into the house.
“It’s so beautiful—and expensive-looking,” I say in awe, taking in my surroundings. “This place is huge. How do you manage to keep it all clean?”
“I’ve got two girls helping me,” Lydia chuckles, slipping a hand into the wide pocket of her apron and pulling out a rag. “There’s plenty of work, but we get it done. The lady of the house is wonderful, which is why I’ve stayed here so long.” She leans in closer, lowering her voice. “Her husband, Dmitry Petrovich, though—he’s not a pleasant man. Thankfully, he’s rarely home.”
Lydia folds the rag in half and wipes it along a picture frame on the wall as we walk down a wide corridor.
Everyone knows Dmitry Malinowski. He’s the wealthiest man in our town. Rumor has it he made his first million through shady means, with whispers of criminal ties. I try not to dwell on it. Vlad doesn’t seem anything like his father—probably takes after his mother.
We stop in front of a set of oak doors. Lydia knocks softly and opens them without waiting for a response. She leads me into a bright, airy room. The first thing I notice is the abundance of plants. They’re everywhere, in all shapes and sizes—lush, leafy ones, others with vibrant flowers. They sit in large and small pots, on the floor, on tables, some even hanging on the walls. Clearly, the owner of this house has a deep love for nature.
“Nina Vasilivna, I’ve brought Polina,” Lydia says, guiding me toward a wide, plush armchair facing the window.
I can’t see anyone behind the high back of the chair, but as we get closer, I spot a small, frail woman. She’s so delicate she almost disappears into the seat. Her long face is pale and slightly asymmetrical—I know why, and it makes me shift my gaze awkwardly.
“Thank you, Lydia,” the woman says in a surprisingly warm voice. “Leave us. I’d like to speak with the girl alone.”
Aunt Lydia nods and gives my shoulder an encouraging squeeze before leaving the room.
Alone with Nina Vasilivna, my nerves flare up again. She studies me with large, shining eyes and offers a faint smile, one side of her mouth lifting slightly.
“Have a seat. Tell me about yourself,” she says, gesturing to a chair across from her. Only now do I notice her speech isn’t entirely clear.
I sit down obediently, clasping my hands tightly in my lap.
“I’m not sure where to start,” I say quietly, taking a breath. “I live in Pineville with my mom. I graduated from the local technical college this year—studied accounting. Now I’m looking for work.”
“Why not look for something in your field?” she asks, curious.
“I’ve tried. No one will hire me. They say I’m too young, no experience. And there aren’t many jobs around here, as I’m sure you know,” I say with a nervous laugh, then bite my tongue.
I doubt she understands the struggles of ordinary folks. When you have everything, something like finding a job probably doesn’t even cross your mind.
“I understand more than you might think,” she says with a nod, lifting a trembling right hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I came from a poor family myself. My husband and I didn’t always have everything. We’ve been through our share of hardships.”
I catch myself staring at her trembling hand resting on the armrest, and doubt creeps in. Maybe I’m not cut out for this job.
“Aunt Lydia mentioned you need an assistant, so I came. But I don’t have any medical training, and I’m probably not the right fit for you.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of hiring you?” she laughs, and I just shrug nervously. “Listen, dear, I had a stroke, and for over six months, I’ve been surrounded by medical staff. You can’t imagine how tired I am of them. I just want some normal conversation. Unfortunately, I’m not back to my old self yet, and I struggle to move around the house on my own. Sometimes I need a little support. I’m looking for someone to help with everyday things—getting dressed, going out to the garden, and most importantly, just talking. I don’t need another professional; I’ve got plenty of those, thanks to my son. That’s why I invited you. Lydia says you’re a very kind girl, and I can see you’re a bit unsure of yourself. I won’t pressure you, but if you’re willing, I’d like to offer you a trial period of one week. If we get along, the job is yours. And I pay quite well.”
“Okay,” I say, my eyes widening. I can’t believe she wants to hire me.
If I were in her shoes, I wouldn’t hire myself.
“Wonderful,” she says, smiling again with just one side of her mouth. This time, I don’t look away. I need to get used to her physical differences. “You’ll stay here with me. I’ll have a room prepared for you. You can take Sundays off if you’d like.”
“But live here?” I ask, caught off guard. I hadn’t expected this. “I can’t leave my mom alone. We’ve got a household to run, a garden to tend. She needs my help.”
“Polina, I’ll need you until late in the evening, and commuting seven miles every day isn’t practical for you. You’ll have to choose—your mom or the job.”
“I understand,” I nod. “I’ll figure something out.”
“Then I’ll expect you tomorrow at eight in the morning.”
“Thank you.”
I say goodbye and leave the room. Aunt Lydia is waiting for me in the hallway.
“Well? Did she hire you?” she asks, hurrying over.
“For a one-week trial.”
“That’s good. It means she likes you. I’ve seen a few other girls come through here, and she turned them all away. You’re the first she’s kept.”
“But she wants me to live here, basically be on call twenty-four hours a day,” I say as we walk down the corridor and pass through the living room.
“So what? What’s the problem? What’s keeping you in our little village?” Lydia asks, genuinely puzzled.
“How can I leave my mom on her own? It’ll be hard for her without me.”
“Your mom will manage just fine,” she scoffs. She doesn’t get it—my mom and I are all each other has. There’s no one else. “You’re a grown, beautiful young woman. It’s time to build your own life. This town might not be big, but it’s a step up from Pineville. You could make something of yourself here, meet new people.”
“I’m not even thinking about that. I just want to start working, stop being a burden to my mom, and stand on my own two feet.”
“If that’s how you feel, then grab this opportunity. The Malinowskis pay very well. You won’t regret it.”
Aunt Lydia opens the front door for me, and I step outside. She follows. The bright sun blinds me, and I shield my eyes with my hand. It’s shaping up to be a hot day. Summer is in full swing.
“Thanks for your help,” I say, turning to her.
“Don’t mention it. We’re neighbors, after all. It was no trouble,” she waves me off. “Are you heading back to the village now? Waiting for the bus?”
“Yeah, I’ve got a couple of hours to kill. I can’t afford to splurge on a taxi.”
“Once you’re working for Nina Vasilivna, you’ll have money for taxis—and fancy dresses, too.”
I can’t help but smile at her optimism.
We say goodbye, and I leave the Malinowski estate.
The walk to the town center, where the bus stop is, takes about fifteen minutes. I’m in no rush since I’ve got plenty of time. I stroll slowly, replaying the morning’s events in my mind. Meeting Vlad was a pleasant surprise. I still get goosebumps thinking about the moment his eyes met mine. And his mother turned out to be a genuinely kind woman. She spoke to me so politely, like we were equals. I didn’t expect that from someone so wealthy. Sure, Aunt Lydia always sings her praises, but I thought she was exaggerating. Turns out, she wasn’t.
Suddenly, I hear the screech of tires behind me, and an old red car pulls up beside me. I frown and yank at the door handle—it sticks, as usual. Finally, I get it open and slide inside, ready to give the driver a piece of my mind for scaring me.
“Sasha, one of these days, your driving is going to give me a heart attack,” I say, exasperated.
A broad-faced young man grins at me. My neighbor from across the fence and a constant thorn in my side. He’s the type who’d climb your pear tree and shake down half the fruit without even asking.
“Funny, when I drove you through the fields, you were screaming with delight,” he says smugly.
“I was screaming out of fear,” I correct him. “You drive like a maniac. You should’ve been a race car driver. At least you’d get all that adrenaline out of your system.”
He just laughs and floors the gas. We lurch forward, and a car behind us honks. I blush with embarrassment, but Sasha doesn’t even flinch. He speeds up and takes a sharp turn. I grab the door handle to keep from falling into him, since I haven’t had a chance to buckle up yet.
“So, where’s our pretty lady been?” he asks, glancing at me. “Got some business in town?”
“‘Your pretty lady’ was trying to get a job with Nina Malinowska.”
“I heard she’s not well.”
“Yeah, and she needs an assistant. Kind of like a caregiver.”
“And you’re not scared to take on a job like that? What if something happens to her? Her husband’s a nasty piece of work. Better not to get mixed up with him.”
“Got a better job offer for me?”
“Sadly, they don’t hire girls at the sawmill, but I wouldn’t mind having a partner like you.”
Sasha winks at me, and I can’t help but smile back.
“Why aren’t you at work?”
“Heading home to grab something.”
“Perfect. Then I’ll ride with you all the way to my gate.”
“Of course.”
He smiles and holds my gaze a little too long.
Sasha works for Vlad Malinowski’s company at the sawmill, cutting boards for high-end luxury furniture. I know a lot of their products are exported, and Vlad’s brand is well-known in several countries.
We reach the village quickly by car. Thankfully, they recently paved the road, so it’s a smooth ride—no potholes in sight.
Sasha brakes hard right at my gate and cuts the engine.
“Thanks for the lift. I owe you a coffee,” I promise.
“I’ll hold you to that,” he says with a grin. I start to get out, but Sasha grabs my hand, stopping me. “Polina, everyone’s getting together at Denis’s place tonight. You coming? I could swing by and pick you up.”
“Probably not,” I shake my head. “I’ve got stuff to do at home. Plus, I need to pack. Tomorrow’s my first day at work.”
“Pack for what? You moving out?”
“I’ll be living at the Malinowski house.”
Sasha lets go of my hand, looking surprised.
“Wow, some job. And your mom’s okay with that?”
“I’m not a kid anymore. I don’t need her permission,” I say, irritation creeping in.
Nina Vasilivna’s words have stuck with me. She’s right—I need to build my own future. If I keep clinging to home, I’ll never get anywhere.
Sasha doesn’t say anything, just nods quietly. He’s the same, wanting me to stay here forever.
“See you around,” I say quickly and hop out of the car.
“Hope so,” he mutters as I walk away.
I find my mom in the garden, bent over with a hoe in her hands, clearing weeds from the onion bed. She looks tired, worn down by life. Seeing her like this always tugs at my heart. She lost her parents young, fell in love with a guy, got pregnant, and he left her. She had to raise me on her own, always trying to give me everything I needed. I’m so grateful to her for that.
“Mom, you can congratulate me. I got a job,” I say with enthusiasm as I approach, though I know she won’t be thrilled about me leaving. But I’ve already made up my mind.
She straightens up and wipes the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.
“That’s great! Where?” she asks, smiling brightly.
“I’ll be an assistant to Nina Malinowska.”
Her smile vanishes, and her face pales instantly.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she says, her voice laced with worry.
“No, Aunt Lydia arranged it, and they hired me. It’s not hard work, and the pay is good.”
“Didn’t you study for four years just to end up as someone’s helper?”
“Maybe I’ll find something in my field eventually. This is just temporary,” I justify, feeling a pang of guilt under her gaze. “If I’m too picky, I’ll never get hired anywhere.”
“Find something else. Anywhere but with the Malinowskis,” she insists, her tone firm and strange.
“Why? What’s the difference? Aunt Lydia’s been working there for ages.”
“You’re not Aunt Lydia. I don’t want you working for those people.”
“I’m sorry, but I’ve already decided,” I stand my ground. “The job goes late, so I’ll be staying there overnight. I’ll change now and come help you with the garden before I leave.”
My mom stares at me, stunned. She looks like I’ve betrayed her. But that’s not true. It’s just a job, and I’ll visit often.