Ruby Fever (Hidden Legacy, #6)(2)

I sighed.

“Leon,” Mom said. “She and Alessandro spent the last two weeks trying to get this place inspected. She barely slept and barely ate. As I recall, none of you helped except for Bern. How about you holster that razor-sharp wit and try to be less you for the next hour?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Leon stood up straight and appeared to look serious. It wouldn’t last, but it was a good try. My younger cousin was twenty years old, and he showed zero interest in changing his ways. And that was fine with me. I liked Leon just the way he was.

Mom squinted at the two-story rectangular building on the other side of the main driveway. “And this?”

“‘Cuartel,’” I said. “According to the listing documents.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Barracks?”

“Yes. The lower level has a kitchen, a mess hall, and an armory. The upper level has room for ten beds and a bathroom with four toilet stalls and three showers.”

“Hmmm.”

Normally interpreting Mom’s “hmmms” wasn’t a problem, but right now I had no idea what she was thinking.

We strolled down the driveway. The dense wall of ornamental shrubs framed the oaks on both sides, hiding the rest of the grounds. The tree limbs reached to each other above our heads and walking down the driveway was like heading into a green tunnel.

“Nice driveway,” Leon said.

“Enjoy it while you can,” I told him. “It’s the only straight road in the place.”

“How many acres did you say this was?” Mom asked.

“Twenty-three point four,” Bern said ahead of us. “Sixteen are walled in, the rest is deer-fenced.”

“We’ll need to continue the wall,” Mom said. “Deer fence won’t cut it.”

“Question!” Arabella raised her hand. “If we buy this, can I get a golf cart?”

“You can buy a golf cart with your own money,” Mom said.

The driveway brought us to a large forecourt in front of a two-story Mediterranean mansion.

“The main house is five thousand square feet,” I said. “The bottom floor is split into two wings. Each wing has a master. Four bedrooms upstairs, all en suite.”

“Four bedrooms?” Arabella asked. “So, Mom and Grandma take the downstairs, and we take the upstairs?”

To say she sounded underwhelmed would be a criminally gross understatement.

“We could do that,” I said, “or we could live in the auxiliary buildings.”

Arabella squinted at me. “What auxiliary buildings?”

I turned my back to the mansion and pointed with both hands to the sides.

The family turned around. On both sides of the driveway, separated by the hedges, lay a labyrinth of buildings and greenery. On the left a round tower rose three floors high. On the right, half hidden by landscaping, sat three two-story casitas, each sixteen hundred square feet, joined by a second-floor breezeway. Between them and us lay gardens, benches, gazebos, and water features. Stone paths, designed by a drunken sailor, meandered through it all, trying to connect the buildings and mostly failing.

Leon spied the tower. His eyes took on a faraway look that usually meant he was thinking of flying ships, winged whales, and space pirates. “Mine.”

“It needs a bit of work,” I warned.

“I don’t care.”

Bern took a step forward and rumbled, “I like this place.” He waited for a moment to let it sink in and walked to the right, starting down a stone path toward the casitas.

“Where are you going?” Mom called.

“Home,” he called out without turning.

She looked at me. “Does Runa like the casitas?”

I nodded.

My oldest cousin and my best friend were slowly but surely moving toward marriage. Runa and her siblings lived with us, and it was harder and harder to ignore Runa slinking out of Bern’s room to the bathroom across the hall first thing in the morning.

I could relate. Alessandro and I slept in the same bed every night, but both of us felt awkward about him moving into my room for completely different reasons, so we settled for him staying in the side building and me keeping my window open. For him, climbing in and out of the window was infinitely preferrable to having to run the gauntlet of my family just to get to my door.

“Where am I going to stay?” Arabella asked. “Am I going to stay in one of the casitas?”

“I think they’re spoken for,” Mom said, watching Bern double-time it down the path. “Bern and Runa will take one and the Etterson children will take the other or others.”

“There’s a shack in the back, behind the main house,” I told Arabella. “You can live there.”

She marched around the house. Mom and I followed her along a narrow path, flanked by Texas olive trees, esperanza shrubs, still carrying the last of their bright yellow flowers, and sprawling clusters of cast-iron plants with thick green leaves.

“So Bern and Leon get their picks, and I get the leftovers,” Arabella called over her shoulder.

“Yep.” I nodded. “You’re the youngest.”

She mumbled something under her breath. Torturing her was delicious.

“What did you say this place was?” Mom asked.

“A failed resort. The first owners built the main house, Leon’s tower, and the bigger casita. Then they sold it to a man who decided to make it into an ultrasecure ‘rustic’ hotel for Primes and Significants. His website called it ‘a country retreat for the Houston elite.’”