Up ahead, a little off to the side, I spotted a small stand right on the sidewalk. On it were a few open boxes of tangerines and a scale. Behind the counter, under an awning, stood a mustached, swarthy man about fifty years old. Paying no attention to the raw weather, he cheerfully chanted in a loud voice:
“Tangerines, vitamins! Come one, come all! Homegrown, you know: half is sugar, half is honey!”
I don’t know what made me stop. Maybe it was the tangerines themselves, looking like a cheerful patch of sunlight in the chilly grayness all around. Or maybe it was the man’s irrepressible energy.
“What’ll it be, friend? How many tangerines for you?” he said, switching his attention to me.
“Uh…” I hesitated, trying to figure out how much money I had on me. “A kilogram, I guess. How much are they?”
“A kilogram? All right! Coming right up!” The vendor busied himself, deftly scooping tangerines into a bag and plopping it onto the scale.
“How much did you say they were?”
“Ten rubles. Enjoy them, friend, and make sure you share them with a girl,” he said, handing me the bag. I took it automatically, a bit taken aback.
“That’s awfully cheap…”
“Take ’em, take ’em, it’s a clearance sale! Just right for someone like you. Now hurry up, or you’ll be too late to treat her—she’ll be gone. And I’ve still got to sell a bunch more tangerines.”
He gave me a gentle nudge, as if sending me on my way.
I obediently started walking. After about ten steps I realized I was grinning foolishly, replaying the scene in my mind. “What did he mean, ‘someone like you’? And what’s this about treating a girl?” I stopped in my tracks, confused. But then a particularly nasty gust of wind blew icy grit into my face. I shivered and kept walking. Still, my mood had somehow lifted. I began to feel the holiday—that sense of anticipation, something joyful and truly New Year’s in the air. Ten minutes later I was entering my building.
I decided not to wait for the elevator and started climbing the stairs. On the third floor, a girl was leaning against the wall. The neighbor’s niece, I thought—Lena. I’d seen her a couple of times in passing. Usually pretty and smiling, now she was frowning at the door.
“Happy New Year!” I said with a smile.
“Happy upcoming New Year,” she corrected me, her expression still sour. “It’s not here yet.”
“Right. Here, have some…” I held out the bag of tangerines I was still carrying. “So what are you doing here? Your name’s Lena, right? Your uncle introduced us—I live on the fourth floor.”
“Thanks,” she said, taking a tangerine from the bag. “I remember you. I wanted to surprise them, you know, congratulate them. I even dressed up as the Snow Maiden and showed up without calling, but they’re not home.”
“Maybe they’re just running late. Come on up to my place and wait.”
“I don’t know… This is a bit sudden. Would it be okay? I was about to leave, but with this weather I don’t really feel like going back outside.”
“It’s no trouble at all. Here, take another tangerine. I was strongly advised to treat you to them.”
“I don’t understand… Who advised you?”
“No idea. Maybe Father Frost. Except he didn’t have a beard and he had an accent,” I laughed, starting up the stairs. I desperately hoped she wouldn’t refuse.
The girl stood there a moment, bit into a slice of tangerine, then suddenly smiled at something and followed me.
A year passed
On December 31st Lena and I were walking back from the store, where we’d gone to buy more food for the table. Friends were coming over, and the neighbor from the third floor was bringing his family, so we’d had to make another trip. Lena came with me, claiming I’d forget something.
We were walking down the same sidewalk where I’d once met the tangerine vendor. I’d passed this spot hundreds of times since, but I’d never seen him again.
This time, though, as we approached the usual place, we heard a cheerful voice:
“Tangerines, vitamins! Come one, come all! Homegrown, you know: half is sugar, half is honey!”
“See?” I said quietly to Lena. “That’s the beard‑less Father Frost I told you about.”
“Ah! Hello there, hello, friend!” the vendor said, his face lighting up with a smile. “So you did manage to treat a girl to those tangerines!”
He quickly filled a new bag and handed it to Lena, who looked a little embarrassed.
“Here you are, miss. In your condition, vitamins are very important.”
“How much do we owe you?” I asked, reaching for my wallet.
“No, no, what’s money between regular customers? It’s on the house!” he waved his hands. “Now off you go, your guests will be arriving soon. And I’ve still got plenty of tangerines to sell.”
And without a word of argument we obediently walked on, smiling happily. Behind us his voice still rang out:
“Tangerines, vitamins! Come one, come all! Homegrown, you know: half is sugar, half is honey…”
