I decided to surprise my husband and drove out to his “work” dacha. I opened the gate—and froze when I saw who was grilling shashlik on my barbecue…
The gravel under my car’s wheels rustled irritably as I turned onto the familiar country lane. I was smiling. Igor thinks I’m meeting friends in the city, but I’m racing to him instead. A surprise. He’d said there was a crunch at the dacha—he had to finish some urgent project that required total concentration. … Read more