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Which was partly true, he thought. He couldn’t leave personal mail lying around the newspaper office.
“To see one of your prospective brides, no doubt,” Cole said with a heavy dose of sarcasm.
“Actually, I did have lunch with a woman,” Zach admitted. “But she’s not in the running for my wife.”
Cole’s expression took on a look of exaggerated shock. “You mean she wasn’t that impressed with you? Wonder of wonders.”
Rolling up his shirtsleeves, Zach started walking toward the barn. Cole grabbed the wheelbarrow and fell in step beside him.
“If that’s the way it is, then maybe you can introduce her to me,” he suggested with a wicked grin.
Zach glanced at his good-looking brother. Lydia with Cole? No. Zach didn’t like that idea. Not at all.
“Forget it,” he repeated in a blunt tone. “She’s too old for you.”
“Really? How old is she?”
“Twenty-eight.”
Cole’s laugh was more of a loud whoop than anything. “Guess you’ve forgotten I’m twenty-eight, too.”
Zach frowned at him. “No. I’ve not forgotten. And you like younger women. Remember?”
Cole chuckled knowingly. “Wow! This ad thing worked a damned sight quicker than I expected! Zach has found the woman he’s been searching for! When’s the wedding, little brother?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m not. I can see it all over your face.”
Cole couldn’t see anything on his face. There was nothing to see. Lydia was a friend. Just because he wanted to shield her from Cole’s clutches didn’t mean he was falling for the woman.
“The only thing you need to be seeing is that wheelbarrow full of manure,” Zach told him. “Let’s get to work.”
* * *
That evening Zach was too tired to contribute much to the conversation around the dinner table. But he was all ears when his father brought up the subject of purchasing a piece of property. Something Zach and the rest of his brothers had been praying to happen.
“It doesn’t look like anyone lives there now,” Phil said as everyone around the table enjoyed bowls of dewberry cobbler topped with ice cream. “The house is empty and the fences look like they’re about to collapse. There’s a big yellow barn on the property. From what I could see from the road, it could use some repairs, but it looked usable.”
Angled to Phil’s left elbow, his brother Charles nodded. “Yes, I know the property you’re talking about. That’s the Stockton place. It’s been vacant for a few years now. Ever since Rob and Lauren Stockton were killed in a car accident. That was a real tragedy.”
Rita spoke up somberly, “Especially with the couple having seven children. The way I remember it, after the accident the children split up. Some even left town. I think two of the younger girls were adopted.”
“Jamie and his sister Bella are still in Rust Creek Falls,” his cousin Eli spoke up. “I’ve not heard about the rest of the siblings.”
“Who owns the Stockton place now?” Zach asked. “The siblings?”
Uncle Charles answered, “That’s a good question. You’d think if the brothers and sisters owned it, they’d be trying to keep the place from falling into ruin.” He looked at Phil. “If you’re interested in the property, we could ask around.”
“Maybe old Grandpa Stockton owns the place,” Eli suggested.
Aunt Rita grimly shook her head. “That would certainly be a travesty. The old man didn’t seem to care what happened to his grandchildren. He didn’t deserve the property.”
“Well, the place looks like it has potential. But we’ll see. Some other nice place might come up for sale,” Phil said.
In the chair next to his, Cole tilted his head close to Zach’s and muttered under his breath, “Let’s hope it’s soon. Six extra men in this house are way too many.”
The house was definitely crowded, but Zach wasn’t going to complain. He wanted their father to heal from the grief of losing his wife. And being with his brother Charles seemed to be working wonders for Phil’s spirit. As for Zach and his brothers, they each had to deal with the loss of their mother in their own private way.
“Hush and eat your cobbler,” Zach mumbled. “We’ll survive.”
* * *
Later that night, after Zach had retired to the bedroom he shared with Booker, he finally had a chance to look at the mail he’d collected from the Gazette.
Stretched out on the single bed, with his head propped on a pair of pillows, he began to sift through the emails and a few letters in envelopes that had been hand delivered to the newspaper office. Some of the women chose the short and sweet method to garner his attention, while others had gone into great detail about their cooking, cleaning and, last but not least, bedroom qualifications.
Just reading the erotic promises was enough to turn Zach’s face beet red and he was glad the explicit letters had been in sealed envelopes. Just thinking of Lydia reading this sort of stuff in an email message made him cringe.
Lydia. Lydia.
He looked across the room to where the open curtains gave him a view of a bright, full moon rising over the trees. Was Lydia out strolling beneath the moonlight tonight with a favorite guy? he wondered. Or was she alone in her apartment or house, watching TV?
Hell, Zach, what is the matter with you? You have dozens and dozens of prospective brides lying right here in your lap and you’re thinking about a woman who is so far from your ideal it’s not even funny. Sure, Lydia is easy to talk to, but that’s where it ends. And there’s damn sure more to marriage than just talk. So get your mind off Lydia Grant and back on the business at hand.
Grimacing at the pestering voice in his head, he picked up another envelope and slid a letter opener beneath the flap. When he pulled out a single piece of paper, a photo fell to the side.
Picking it up, he read the brief information scrawled across the back of the glossy paper. Twenty-two years old. College graduate. Blonde with the word natural to the side in parenthesis. Blue eyes. Five foot nine.
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