"Nothing worth mentioning," is the truth. Vanya Orlov's home is neat but not bloodless; it is very clearly a place where people live, even beyond the gardening that he'd been doing when she arrived. There are some sheets drying on a line out behind the house and a saddle resting on a sawhorse near the barn, probably in need of some minor repair. There is, one imagines, never any absence of things to do.

Elaborating on his initial answer as he leads them toward the house, he adds, "We might go in, all three of us, this time. Sometimes it's just business, but it's been a while since we made a day of it properly." A while is no more specific than she can be about her arrival, but it doesn't catch at him. (This time.)

The inside of the house is much like the rest of the ranch; tidy but not a showplace, some knitting left on a chair by the fireplace in the main room, appetizing smells coming from what is certainly the kitchen further in.