you all up for a reputable mail-order bride service. The sooner you accept this, the better. Besides, plenty of people get married young. I got married at nineteen! It’s high time for the rest of you to tie the knot, too.”
“That was a different time, mom,” Nate argues, but I silence him with an impatient wave of my hand.
“This sounds absolutely ridiculous,” I say, piercing my mom’s steady gaze with my own. “Who in their right mind would have decreed that whoever buys the town has to be married?”
She shrugs. “Stranger laws certainly exist. You should know that, Mr. Attorney. It’s outdated, sure, but it’s part of the groundwork of Snow Valley, and there’s no getting past it.”
“What if just one of us gets married?” Nate chimes in, looking pointedly at me. I roll my eyes. Just because I’m thirty-five and the oldest doesn’t mean I’m looking to settle down.
“Since all of you need to pitch in and buy the town together,” Mom says, “that wouldn’t cut it.”
I lean back in my chair, letting out a breath of frustration. We’ve lived in Snow Valley, a quaint, sleepy Montana town, all of our lives. I own my own law firm; my brothers all have their own lucrative careers based here. We all thought about moving at some point, and yet the town has an almost magnetic pull, preventing most folks from leaving. Everything we need and everything we love, is right here.
When we learned that Snow Valley was in financial trouble and needed new ownership, we racked our brains for ways to help. My mother suggested that we brothers go in on it together and purchase the town with our powers combined. It seemed like a fairly innocuous suggestion at first. But then Joy discovered the requirement that the owner—or rather, owners—to be married. Now, there’s the ridiculous revelation that dear, sweet old Mom has purchased mail-order brides for all six of her sons!
“C’mon, Mom,” Spencer says, a frown creasing his face. “We’re all attractive, well-known men in this town. Any of us could get any woman we wanted.”
“Except maybe Mason,” Hartley proclaims while the rest of us roll our eyes.
“Boys, please,” Mom says, looking at each of us in turn until we go quiet. “I’ve never asked much of you, have I? This is important to me, and to our entire town. Besides, we have until Christmas to finalize the purchase, and that’s only five months away. This is the most efficient idea.” She smiles again, her eyes twinkling. “Just think of your brides-to-be as very special Christmas gifts from me.”
“But do I not get to choose my wife?” Mason sputters, his voice cracking in disbelief.
“Trust me, honey,” Mom says, taking his hand. “Mrs. Huckleberry says she’s already found an excellent match for each of you based on the information I sent in. Just let the girls come to town and give them a chance, okay? If it doesn’t work out, we’ll think of something else.”
We sit in silence for a while. I exchange wide-eyed glances with each of my brothers. As the oldest, I know they’re expecting me to say something.
I sigh. “When will they get into town?”
My mom beams at me as if I just won the lottery. “Good thing you asked, Matty. Yours will be here first.”
I arrive at the airport an hour before her plane is supposed to come in. With nothing else to do, I order a black coffee from the overly crowded Starbucks in the terminal. At least I can sip on something and read the newspaper in an effort to drown out my thoughts.
My thoughts, I must admit, are not exactly positive. I want to trust my mom; I know she means well. I know, too, that I’m closer to forty than Joy would like, and that it’s probably about time for me to settle down. I’m just not convinced that this is the way to go about it.
I sit in an uncomfortable chair facing the gate. I peer out the window but the plane hasn’t even arrived yet. As I cross my legs, I notice that the top one is bouncing rapidly. Shit. I’m experiencing an unfamiliar emotion: nervousness. I’m a chill enough guy, and it takes a lot to faze me, even in the courtroom. Still, the prospect of meeting the woman who might be my future wife has me pretty fucking spooked.
I attempt to read the newspaper, but the words seem more like unintelligible squiggles on the page. I take