Page 11 of Miles. Alton & The 9:04 (Modern Mail Order Brides #19)

Mae Weston was accustomed to men aspiring to be too familiar too soon.

She eyeballed him suspiciously as he began to walk away from the platform.

Her eyes were trying to take it all in: the abandoned train station she'd been told was turned into a museum, the old 9:04 line that one Thom Brown maintained for his pet project idea, and the large field he planned to use for an outdoor jazz concert.

None of it made sense until she walked around the train she'd driven in from Chicago to see the field.

Mae also spotted the adorable house with the large front porch with four rocking chairs and the white woman in a bathrobe.

“Wife?” she asked.

“Fairy hunter,” he said, looking back at her and offering a smile.

Everything about the unassuming man changed when he smiled.

The twinkle in his eyes when he said the words engaged her, and now she wanted to know more.

She had no idea what a fairy hunter was, or what it meant, but she understood the man planned to show her over this meal he was planning to prepare.

“Lead on, Mr. Brown,” she said. “We will come back to your prayer and to achieve clarification on the request.”

“No need to come back to it; it is going to slap you in the face,” he said, finding humor in it all.

“I'm glad you're amused.”

“Soon, you shall be as well,” he said the words as the dust from Jiminy's pickup arrived.

For the first time in a very long time, Thom was actually grateful to see the man.

“The next two days are going to be well worth the time it took you to drive that GP30 3200 down from Chi Town, but the day is young.”

They arrived on the front porch simultaneously as Jiminy, who sprang from the truck and stood looking at the diesel engine on the unused rail line. He pointed at it, then at the black woman, then at the white woman. The half-dressed white woman caught his eye.

Megan shouted at him, “Hey, you're the guy with the porcupine!”

Mae blinked several times and asked Thom, “He has a porcupine?”

Thom's smile widened, “Hmm hmm. You should ask the name of his spiky friend.”

“Nope, you're setting me up for failure, and I can see it in your eyes, Mr. Brown,” Mae challenge.

“Me? My dear, I wish nothing but success in our next two days, which places me at your beck and call,” he said, looking at her.

“Hey, what is going on here?” Jiminy asked. He pointed at Mae, then at Megan. “Two days? Is she also one of your mail-order brides? I didn't know you could get one in a different color! What's wrong with thissun?”

Mae's eyebrows went up at Jiminy's words.

She had questions, but Thom held the door open to her for his home, and Mae walked inside followed by Jiminy and Megan.

The place was open for interpretation and she could see paint samples displayed on the mantle in front of the fireplace.

The curtains, simple in design, were only to cover the windows. She looked at the woman in the robe.

Thom addressed the blond woman without looking at her. “Ms. Dootch, please get dressed. Then come join us for breakfast.”

“Oh, okay,” Megan said, gathering the robe over the generous C-cups.

Mae didn't know why she expected the woman to walk down the hall to the bedroom, but she exited the front door and headed outside to a camper.

Thom poured cups of coffee for Mae and Jiminy, who also took a seat at the table.

Mae sipped at the coffee as Thom washed his hands then doubled checked the temperature setting on the oven.

She said nothing as he placed pre-prepared biscuits on a pan and shoved them in the oven, followed by bacon.

He held up turkey bacon, showing it to Mae, who shook her head no, and he placed it back in the fridge.

From the hopper, he removed four large potatoes and slipped them in a hotchie-totchie food chopper, getting perfect slices, he then seasoned and placed in a liner inside of the air fryer.

A dozen eggs came out next, and he cracked them open and whisked them in a bowl.

He turned to Mae, showing her butter and a plant-based option, and she pointed at the butter.

A tap came at the front door, followed by an announcement of “Coming in” as the blond woman returned.

Thom stopped scrambling the eggs to bring her a cup of coffee as well.

He was proud of Jiminy for holding his tongue for so long, but he knew it wouldn't last. Honestly, he was sort of, hopefully, prayerfully, counting on the loose lips flapping all over the table.

The oven dinged as the biscuits came out along with the bacon.

The next ding was from the air fryer. Thom placed the food on platters and brought them to the table along with plates, forks, knives, spoons, jams, and honey.

He took a seat after starting a fresh pot of coffee, extending his hand to Mae on his left and Megan on his right, noting the differences in the feel of the touches.

When the circle closed, he lowered his head and blessed the food.

“This looks delicious; thank you,” Mae said.

“I was up to cook your breakfast,” Megan pouted, slicing into the biscuit. She shoved in entirely too much jam which squirted out when she bit into the discus, making the red goo ooze down her chin.

“Hey. Jeez. Careful there,” Jiminy said, making Thom smile. “Okay, what's with the train and did you say two days? You aren't a mail-order bride?”

“I am not,” Mae said, looking across the table at Megan.

Jiminy turned to Megan, “And you have a camper. You drove here? Where did you drive from, Miss Lady, if I may ask?”

“South Dakota; it took me three days too,” Megan said, shoveling eggs into her mouth. “But now I'm confused. My fiancé over there has another woman here. Is she expected? Was this why you were trying to get rid of me last night?”

“Ms. Dootch, staying in my home would not have been appropriate, all things considered,” Thom said, sighing deeply.

“Why not? I drove all this way. I thought today we'd be married, and tonight we'd be starting our family,” she said, leaning back in the seat, pouting.

Jiminy, God bless his soul, sat shaking his head as if it were about to fall off his shoulders. “Madam, you drove here; three days of driving on the road, by your lonesome. Didn't Thom send you a plane ticket?”

“He did, but I cashed it in so I could drive. Everything I own is in that camper,” she said.

“So, he didn't know you were planning to drive, but also move here,” Jiminy stated. “You were supposed to come meet to determine if this was the life you wanted, right?”

“It is the life I want, and there's nothing for me back in South Dakota. My Mamma moved in that damned Tritt Wiley, and that was no place for a delicate flower like me,” Megan said using the back of her hand to smear your jam across her chin.

“So, you took it upon yourself to move everything here in the hopes that Thom would propose?” Jiminy asked.

“We've been talking for six months, we matched, plus the other two girls didn't leave any evidence in the house when I searched it after I let myself in to make him dinner yesterday,” she said, poking out her bottom lip.

Jiminy was fully invested as was Mae. He leaned forward, “Hey, I've known this man for many years, and he never leaves his home unsecured. Did you break in?”

Megan sighed heavily, “I found a cracked window and let myself inside. Plus, I had lamb chops.”

Mae looked at Thom, sipping her coffee, “Fairies, you say?”

“Fairies,” Thom repeated, trying not to laugh.

Megan didn't like it. “Are you two speaking in some code making fun of me? It's not funny. I love him and want to marry that man. I'm ready to make babies with him, decorate this house, and raise our brood here.”

She slammed her hand on the table, drawing everyone’s attention.

Megan once more stated her case. “Thom made it clear what he needed in his life and from his woman. He wants to come home to a decent meal, loving arms and a person who enjoys spending time with him. I can do all those things. I want all those things too!”

“Hey, does he agree to any of that?” Jiminy asked.

It was Mae's turn to get in on the conversation.

“At this point, we haven't heard much from Mr. Brown on any of this, and I'd like to know what kind of man you are, Thom Brown.

Obviously, this woman's expectations and your reality are at odds with each other, plus I'm not understanding the mail-order bride aspect. Please, help me understand.”

Thom rose to bring the new pot of coffee to the table. He took his time pouring fresh cups for everyone then placed the hot carafe of coffee upon a trivet. He yawned a little, tired of it all and wanting them all, with the exception of Mae Weston, out of his house.

“My brother is Mateo Zingales,” he said, waiting for the registration on either woman's face.

Megan had no idea, and Mae's eyebrows went up in acknowledgment.

“He and Chambers Claypool have a jazz school in Arkansas, and he asked me to go to New York to pick up some horns and his extra touring camper. As my payment for doing this huge favor, he paid the fee for the matchmaking service.”

“Hey, I didn't know that!” Jiminy said.

“There are seven of us in total, kids that is; five used the service and are happily married with families or a dog,” Thom explained. “So, it wasn't happening for me esoterically, therefore I figured I'd give it a go.”

“I am one of his choices,” Megan said with pride.

“I narrowed the choices down to three and corresponded with each over the past six months,” he said. “This weekend, I was scheduled to meet them all in person.”

Jiminy sipped at his coffee. “Hey, George Carter said that the first one had a butt so wide you could sit a cup of coffee on it.”

Thom didn't respond.

Mae asked, “Is that why she's not your choice?”