My father passed, because money could fix anything–except death. I went back to school, as per his wishes, notified by a telegram only weeks later my mother had joined him in whatever awaited us after this life. She went quickly, and there wouldn’t have been enough time to rush home even if I had known earlier. So I stayed at school, finished my program, and headed home in the spring, ready to take over the family business as the new head of my one-man family.

Time passed and I fell into a routine–monotonous, but simple. I woke up and went over the company’s ledgers at breakfast. I visited the factory in the morning. Supply ordering was done in the afternoon, and at the supper table. Sundays were for church, a ritual I kept out of habit rather than belief. Because if money was king, where did God fall into the mix?

I knew the women of the town wanted to marry off their daughters to me. I wasn’t clueless. I was young, relatively good-looking, rich, and available. Everybody and their mother knew it. Church was constantly filled with ladies telling me about this relative or the next. They couldn’t help themselves, tapping me on the shoulders and pointing out the women I didn’t care about.

“My niece, Cora, would be perfect for you, Felix. Simply stunning, and the best cook you’ll ever meet.”

Like women of our standing ever stepped foot in the kitchen.

“Felix, you must meet my daughter, Adaline. Beautiful black hair. She sings like an absolute bird, too.”

If I wanted to hear a bird sing, I would buy a damn bird, not wed a wife.

“Did you see how pretty our Emma looked at the service last week? She’s a pious one for sure. What a wonderful wife she would make for you.”

Because piousness was really what I was looking for.

But I kept these thoughts to myself, smiling and nodding, politely agreeing while knowing I had no intentions of ever courting, let alone marrying, any of these women. I had money, and I was destined to be great. These women were simply okay. Subpar. I wanted the best.

So I kept to my rules, and my routine. More and more I thought about how nice it would be to have a companion to live life with. To celebrate wins with. And maybe, just maybe, to love. Love would be a bonus, but not a necessity. After all, hadn’t my parents’ marriage worked without love? Really, a wife was another step on the social ladder, an excellent addition to the money that had gotten me so far.