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Athaliah, she was easily distracted and hastened to put more food on Zibeon’s plate.
    Zibeon stared at his wine, thinking of the mothers that hurried their daughters past his shop as though he had some great plague, daughters who averted their eyes.
    “Simpering, useless females,” Zibeon had grumbled to Shimei. “I don’t need any of them.”
    Then he had seen Marah. Her face stayed in his mind for days. Zibeon watched for her and tried to be friendly, but like the others she averted her eyes and hurried past his shop. Day after day his frustration grew.
    Reba came to the shop on a day when Zibeon was angry with Athaliah. He was pounding forcefully on the leather with a mallet, trying to make a hole with his awl. Weary of his mother’s constant nagging, he was taking his anger out on the thick leather. From the corner of his eye, he saw Reba coming toward the shop and cursed under his breath. She came many times, too many times it seemed, to purchase small leather items. She was cunning and brash, but they understood one another. Her attentions flattered his ego at times, and he let her flirt. She hinted at marriage, but she didn’t appeal to him. Now her niece, Marah, that was a different matter.
    “She no longer has the figure of a child,” he had murmured one day to Shimei. “Soon she will be eligible for marriage. She dislikes me, I know, but it only makes her more interesting.” Like the lion that waits and watches its prey, waiting for the right moment to strike, Zibeon would bide his time.
    With a nod from Zibeon, Shimei moved back into the shadows of the shop as Reba planted herself in front of Zibeon.
    “You must work every moment?” she had asked coyly.
    With great care, Zibeon put down his tools and looked at her. “There is something you need?” he asked in a low voice.
    She did not miss his meaning as he rose to his full height and looked down on her, enjoying her momentary discomfort.
    “Would I interrupt such a man at his work for no reason?” she said with a slow smile. “You are a strong man, Zibeon. It is a shame for you to be alone. You should have a wife to comfort you after a hard day at work.” Reba almost smirked.
    Zibeon sighed irritably and sat down again, picking up his tools. He was not in the mood to be bothered with Reba’s barely disguised hints at marriage today. Perhaps if he ignored her, she would go away.
    “I have a proposition.” Her voice had been low, conspiratorial. “Is there someplace we can talk?”
    “Say what you have to say now. I am a busy man,” he growled.
    She smiled, anticipating his reaction. “It concerns my niece. Do you wish to talk here?”
    At the mention of Marah, Zibeon’s head came up sharply. She had gotten his attention.
    Reba looked around to be sure no one was near, and didn’t see Shimei. “She is now of an age to be betrothed. I wish to return to Haran to my family. I am tired of this village. Perhaps we can do business?”
    Zibeon licked his lips. So his interest in the girl had not escaped Reba’s attention. She was shrewd. She knew how to get to the heart of a matter.
    “What do you need to return to Haran?” He also got to the point.
    “A large sum, Zibeon, a worthy price for such a beautiful bride.”
    They looked at each other for a moment in their unity of thought.
    “You are right. We cannot talk here,” Zibeon murmured, knowing Shimei was listening to the entire scene.
    “I will send the girl for water to Jacob’s well tomorrow at this time. It is a long walk. I’m sure she will be gone long enough. I will be waiting,” Reba smirked.
    “Tomorrow at this time,” Zibeon answered, his gruff voice dangerously soft.
    Two women were headed their way and Reba pretended to examine a pair of sandals. “I have not seen anything that interests me,” she said loudly. “Perhaps tomorrow.”
    “I’m sure you will find something tomorrow,” Zibeon answered in the same tone and watched her walk away, her ample hips