15. Mr. and Mrs. Destler

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Y/n's POV:

On the night of our arrival, after bidding goodbye to Hugo and the horses who had carried us this far, we were too tired for more than a five-minute conversation.

 "Hello, Erik. I hoped you would make it in tonight, but I couldn't be sure if you would come tomorrow either. Come in, come in. It's nice to meet you, Y/n."

With these remarks, my first impression of Nadir Kahn was a good one. He ushered Erik and me into his spacious cabin, out of the humid July night. One lamp stood on the windowsill, illuminating the nearby kitchen table, and a smoldering fire danced in the grate. Various knick-knacks, some bizarre for the Oklahoma prairie and evidently from Persia, littered the shelves. Two other rooms were separated from the main one. Naturally, I assumed they were bedrooms.

Nadir fit comfortably into the atmosphere of his house, like he had always been there. Although, this wasn't actually true. Erik had told me that his friend, sick of the hectic pace and sheer expensiveness of living in Paris, had moved to Oklahoma for both the cheap land and a slower way of life.

Nadir himself was more well-suited to a slow way of life, I thought. I could hardly imagine those sparkling, dark eyes anywhere except the peaceful Oklahoma frontier. Often, his lips were positioned in an ironic tilt, as if he had just thought of something funny to himself. His bushy black beard gave him a grandfatherly air, and already, I was glad to have him as our mentor for learning the way of frontier life.

Erik, Nadir, and I sat at the table and fell to the practical side of our discussion.

 "You probably saw my first homestead on your way in. I hope it'll be enough for you and Y/n to start out in."

 "It'll be perfect. Y/n and I have already contemplated what our first renovations will be."

 "And you've figured out a means to do them?" Nadir asked, lifting a brow.

 "Not quite." Erik intertwined his fingers together, placing them atop the table. "So I was wondering if you had any ideas."

Erik didn't know how we'd fund our renovations? He always assured me those details had been smoothed out. There was also the debt we'd accrued from the cowboys. How would we pay that off? I twisted my hands together with nerves. Hopefully, Nadir would have an idea. Thankfully, he did.

 "You could raise cows- No, never mind. The nearby town has a man who supplies beef very well. He's been doing it for years, so it's a fool's errand trying to compete with him."

 "Perhaps I could still raise cows, but tap into the diary market?"

Nadir paused for a moment, contemplating Erik's suggestion.

 "Erik, would a French cheesemonger and his wife bring in more money than ordinary diary providers?"

 "You're a genius, Nadir! These American will think I've been doing it for years!"

 "You know how to make cheese?" I cut into their conversation.

 Erik scoffed and said, "it's easy enough. I read a book on the process once."

For the first time since this conversation began, Erik looked like the confident, collected man I'd married. If that confidence was misplaced was another matter entirely.

 "That settles it. We'll raise cows. Thank you, Nadir, for everything."

Erik's friend smiled, crinkling the skin beside his eyes. My heart had already warmed to him, but this man continued to endear himself. It hardly surprised me that he alone could befriend Erik in his murderous phantom days.

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