“Uncle Bosque?” My voice felt small, more childlike than I’d ever want it to be. “Are you going to live here too?”
He looked at me, squaring his shoulders. “You know the nature of my work.”
I clenched my teeth, wondering why I’d even care about sharing a house with an uncle I barely knew. Still, he was my only family.
“I’ll be here tonight,” he said. “But tomorrow I’ll be traveling again. I’ll return when the school’s admissions process is complete.
I want to be certain everything goes smoothly when you first matricu-late.”
“Right,” I said.
“I’ll be waiting for you in my study,” he said. “It’s at the far end of the west wing. When you’re ready, come find me and we’ll take a 21
tour of the house before dinner.”
I nodded, suddenly exhausted.
Bosque left and I flopped onto my back. My head struck the package sitting on the bed. I’d forgotten it was there.
The mailing label showed it had shipped from Portland, mailed overnight to arrive today. I opened it up to find my hoodie folded neatly around a plastic bag full of chocolate chip cookies. Kate’s handwriting looped across a note card.
Don’t forget us. Xoxo
It wasn’t anything but thoughtful, and still I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. Tomorrow I’d be alone. In a place where I had no friends. In a house big enough to shelter an army but that was home only to me.
If I was going to stay sane the next few weeks while I was waiting for the school to let me enroll, I was going to have to get creative.
Very creative.
I rolled onto my stomach and texted Kate. Don’t know how I’ll make it without you. Sure you won’t be cold without my hoodie?
My phone buzzed almost instantly. I wouldn’t say no if you sent it back. Miss seeing your face already.
I was about to text back when I realized I could do better.
22
tHree
A
i stAred At tHe sCreen, wondering where all these facebook people had come from. Either Ally had done some serious recruiting or people think making friends with strangers online is a good way to spend time. I was still in the middle of designing my blog when there was a knock at the door.
“I expected you’d want that tour by now,” Bosque said.
“Sorry.” I closed my laptop. “Got distracted.” The blog would have to wait.
I kept pace with my uncle’s long but casual strides through the arched halls.
“There is little within these walls that is without value,” he said.
“I trust you’ll take care to treat your home with care.”
“No problem,” I said, gawking at one of the sicko paintings and then at my uncle. He glanced at the painting, then back to me. I’d been waiting for him to say something about them. Silence.
Awkward.
Our walk through the estate took almost an hour, leaving me with not infrequent thoughts that I could easily get lost in the place.
The second and third floors were filled with bedrooms and quiet parlors, while the fourth floor had some more bedrooms and a lot of storage.
24
The larger gathering spaces of the mansion were clustered on the ground floor. The kitchen was enormous and reminded me of something out of Beowulf—built to feed a horde of ravenous thanes and not one solitary guy like me. The dining room featured a table that could seat two dozen guests. four places were already set with bone china plates, sparkling crystal goblets, and gleaming silver utensils. I was glad the place settings were clustered at one end of the table.
Otherwise dinner would have required us to shout our conversation along its length. A ballroom, its floor so polished that I could look down and see my own face, adjoined the dining room. The last room Bosque showed me was what he called a “gentlemen’s lounge” and to me looked like PETA’s worst nightmare. The walls were covered with taxidermied beasts ranging from familiar—wolves, foxes, deer heads, and mink pelts—to exotic—a huge lion rug, with head still attached, covered the floor next to the fireplace. Bosque helped himself to a cigar out of the tall humidor and I wondered why “gentlemen” liked to look at dead beasts while they had after-dinner drinks. I half expected to find neat stacks of my uncle’s “gentlemen’s literature” on the end tables—a thought that made me shudder.
When my uncle swept his hand around the room and said, “All of this is yours,” I managed to stop myself from cringing.
“This is your legacy, my dear nephew.” He smiled, gazing at me.
“I hope you will enjoy your days at Rowan Estate.”
“Thanks,” I said. “It’s really . . . impressive.”
“Isn’t it, though?” he said. “I’m delighted you’re here and can appreciate the fortune your ancestors worked so hard to provide for you.”
“Are there family records?” I asked. “Like in the library?”
His smile vanished. “I’ve told you that the library is off-limits.”
“I know, but—”
He cut me off. “All you need to know about the past is before 25
you. This place. These creature comforts are the gifts your family left you. Names and dates on pages are but a shadow in comparison.
Don’t bother thinking about it.”
I opened my mouth and his eyes flashed. I had to look away. I’d never gotten used to the unsettling silver shade of my uncle’s eyes.
“The library must be left alone,” he said. “That is my only restric-tion on your residence here and I expect you to honor that rule.”
I nodded, keeping my eyes averted.
A polite cough sounded in the doorway. Thomas offered me a thin smile.
“Master Bosque, your guests have arrived.”
“Excellent.” Bosque strode from the room, passing Thomas and leaving me standing alone, still lost in thoughts about what kind of family I came from and how I was supposed to live in this gigantic place all alone.
“Master Shay.” I looked up when Thomas addressed me, frowning at the formal and disconcerting title. His smile was sym-pathetic. “Pardon me, sir. Shay—will you follow me to the dining room?”
I shrugged, trailing after Thomas and wondering what friends of my uncle could be like. A minute later I had my answer: Uncle Bosque had friends that worked as models for Armani. At least that’s what they looked like. I assumed the pair were father and son, but I couldn’t pin down how old the senior member of the party was. His face didn’t look quite old enough for him to be the father of the boy who was clearly my age. They both had blond hair that Rumples-tiltskin could have spun.
Bosque waved me over. “Shay! I’d like you to meet dear family friends. This is Efron Bane and his son, Logan.”
Efron extended his hand. His grip was firm and his smile blind-ing in its perfect whiteness.
26
“Welcome to Vail.” He pushed his son toward me. “My son has been anticipating your arrival. You’ll be in school together.”
Logan looked like he was fighting not to roll his eyes.
“You’re a senior?”
Logan managed to partially hide his sigh, but not the boredom in his barely polite smile. “Yes.”
I decided to make one more attempt at friendliness. “I hate to admit it, but I’m really dying to start school. Life’s kinda boring without it. Who knew?”
“I heard there was a delay,” he said, apparently not amused by my joke. “But the Mountain School has rigorous admissions standards. I’m sure you understand.”
“Mmmmmm” was all I could muster in response. Logan and I were not cut from the same cloth, and he was starting to piss me off after two minutes of conversation. The hole of loneliness that had been living beneath my ribs started to grow.
“Let’s take our places, shall we?” Bosque moved to the chair at the head of the table. He gestured for me to sit on his left while Efron and Logan sat opposite me.
Th
e moment we were gathered at the table, the doors to the kitchen swung open and a swarm of uniformed staff were piling silver chafing dishes before us. My vision of the Beowulf kitchen didn’t seem too far off. Even if we weren’t an army, they were going to feed us like one. As one by one the lids were whisked off serving platters, my mouth watered. The scent of the food that filled the air was irresistible. My uncle favored a hunting theme in his dining room as well as his lounge; the meal was dominated by meats: suckling pig, braised venison, and roast pheasant were accompanied by sautéed vegetables and steaming mounds of whipped potatoes.
I hadn’t noticed until that moment that I was starving. Since I had moved to food nirvana, I giddily heaped slabs of meat and a 27
huge spoonful of potatoes on my plate until it was full. The vegetables could wait. Logan watched me scarfing down food, his mouth twisted in disgust as if he’d been forced to dine with a Neanderthal.
But Efron and my uncle both looked delighted as I ate with abandon.
Bosque nodded in approval when I gave him a thumbs-up. He turned to Efron.
“As you’re aware, much to my regret I cannot remain here with my nephew.” He gestured toward Logan. “I’m trusting you’ll help Shay get settled into his life in Vail.”
“We wouldn’t dream of having it any other way,” Efron said.
I nodded my thanks at him while musing that pheasant might be the most delicious meat I’d ever tasted.
“The estate is a bit out of the way.” Logan was picking at his own food. “He’ll need a car to get into town and to school, of course.”
“That’s true,” Bosque said. “I’m not storing any cars here at the moment. I hadn’t thought of that when I made the arrangements for Shay to come here.”
I tried to say, “I’ll figure something out.” But it came out as,
“Irmlfugshmt,” because my mouth was so full.
Efron turned to his son. “You’ve been favoring the Lotus. You could lend Shay your Mercedes CL600.”
Logan shrugged and looked at me as if expecting me to melt with gratitude, but I spluttered, “No, no. That’s okay.” I was pretty much relieved I hadn’t spit mashed potatoes on him.
The golden-haired boy arched his eyebrow. “You’d prefer something else? We also have a BMW, if you don’t mind last year’s model.”
I was desperate to convince myself that I’d only imagined his shudder of disgust.
“I’m not really into cars,” I said, trying to figure out a way to get out of this without offending anyone. The offer was generous, but I wanted to feel out Vail and find my place here. Making first impres-28
sions with flashy wheels wasn’t my style. And if townie–boarding school relations were as bad here as they were in some places I’d lived, I knew that driving through town in a brand-new car wasn’t the way to make friends. “I can find something on my own.”
“forgive my nephew,” Bosque said, smiling at Logan. “He fancies himself something of a bohemian.”
“Ah,” Logan said, pursing his lips.
Efron gave his son a chastising glance. “Whatever makes Shay comfortable, of course.”
“Of course,” Logan repeated, studying the steaming slices of rare beef on his plate with disdain.
I was getting tired of being talked about like I wasn’t in the room.
“I’d rather have something that can take a beating. I may need to go off road.”
Logan chewed on his meat, eyeing me. “Off road where?”
“Anywhere,” I said. “I’ll head for the best hiking spots. Sometimes it takes a rough road to get to them.”
Efron and Logan exchanged a glance.
Bosque smiled at me but shot a stern glance at Efron. “Seamus is an experienced hiker. He won’t find trouble. There’s no need to be concerned.”
“If you’re certain,” Efron said. He pointed the tip of his steak knife at me. “It’s more of a wilderness around here than you’d imagine. Keep that in mind when you’re exploring.”
“Always do,” I said. “I’ll read up on the terrain before I head out.”
“You’ll forgive me if I don’t offer to accompany you,” Logan said.
“Outdoor pursuits have never been able to hold my interest.”
There’s a shocker.
“No worries,” I said. “I’m used to hiking alone.”
“An independent spirit,” Efron said. “How charming.”
Logan’s mouth curved up, but his smile made me feel like he was enjoying a joke at my expense.
29
“But surely you’d enjoy spending some time at the country club,”
Efron said. “Logan and his friends while away the hours there.”
“It sounds like he’d be better off running with the wolves than joining me at the club,” Logan said with a snicker.
“Logan!” Bosque’s clipped tone froze Logan in his seat. He blanched, shuddering like a rabbit cornered by hounds. Efron gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white with tension.
I forced a laugh. “No, no. He’s right. I wouldn’t fit in at any country club. I can’t swing a golf club to save my life.”
Bosque’s gaze slid my way. “You’re quite forgiving. I do not appreciate rudeness at the expense of my family.”
“My sincerest apologies,” Logan whispered. “I didn’t mean—”
“Seriously.” I appreciated that my uncle wanted to keep me happy, but he was taking things a little far. “Not a big deal.”
“I’m sure Shay will find his niche,” Efron said quietly.
Bosque relaxed back into his chair. “He will indeed.”
Logan stared at his plate. His hands were still shaking.
After that, dessert was tense at best, with conversation limited to Efron updating my uncle about some new real estate development in Vail. I was relieved when Efron declined my uncle’s offer of an after-dinner cigar. I didn’t think I could take any more of their company. Logan hadn’t managed to make eye contact with me or my uncle since Bosque’s outburst. Even if he could, I was pretty convinced Efron’s son and I had nothing to talk about.
But when we said our good-byes at the door, Logan paused beside me and reached into his pocket.
“Please,” he said as he pressed a card into my hand. “If you need anything.”
“Sure,” I said, barely managing to keep a straight face. Who the hell has business cards at age eighteen?
If this guy was what all the students at my new school were like, my senior year was going to blow. Big time.
30
four
W
it turned out I had to use Logan’s card the very next day.
I pulled myself out of bed at 9 a.m. If I’d known that was the last decent night’s sleep I would get at Rowan Estate, I would have slept longer. Uncle Bosque was already gone by the time I wandered into the kitchen with a growling stomach. A note waited for me on the giant island.
Early flight. Be well.
So much for family reunions.
If I was worried about having to hunt down breakfast, it was for nothing. The immense Sub-Zero fridge was stocked with fresh fruit, milk, yogurt, cheeses, and meats. I found bread and an abundance of nonperishables in the pantry. I made a note that at least I was in the best-possible situation should the apocalypse occur. My only disappointment was that I’d been hoping for some leftover pheasant, but apparently leftovers weren’t permissible at Rowan Estate. I could find no evidence of last night’s feast in the fridge, though I knew we’d barely made a dent in the food that had been set before us.
I threw a sandwich together and headed back to my room.
Though I could have eaten in the kitchen or in any other of the hundreds of rooms in the mansion, I felt uneasy outside my bedroom, like an animal that only feels safe in its den.
32
Before heading to Craigslist to look for wheels, I popped onto facebook.
Whoa. Seriously. How did all these people find me?
&
nbsp; I scrolled through the comments, chewing and smiling. I almost choked a couple of times, startled by the appearance of people I hadn’t seen in years. I didn’t know if it was my stomach getting full or the sight of familiar faces and greetings from around the world, but I felt a little better.
Reminded of all my globe-trotting, I decided to go one better and post some of my favorite photos from places I’d lived. Instead of labeling them, I made a game of it, asking my friends to tell me where I’d been. I figured that was more interesting to everyone than if I’d just left a slide show of my moves for all to see.
Satisfied that Ally couldn’t harass me for neglecting her “keep-Shay-socially-involved” project, I moved on to my main goal of the day: transportation. It didn’t take long to find what I was hoping for.
A used truck, not too big but with enough room for my gear if I was heading out for a serious climb. The price was right; plus, it was already beat up and I didn’t want to buy anything that was too pretty to bump around poorly maintained trailheads.
I called the number listed and the gruff-voiced man at the other end of the line said he’d hold the truck for me but only for the day. As I dialed Logan’s number, I tried to forget how much I hadn’t liked him.
“Yes?” He already sounded bored.
“Hey, Logan, it’s Shay,” I said.
“Yes, Shay. How may I help you?”
I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t ask him if he was training to be a concierge. After clearing my throat a couple times to make sure I’d gotten rid of all that brewing sarcasm, I said, “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was hoping you could give me a ride somewhere.”
There was a pause, then he said, “Of course. What time should I pick you up?”
33
• • •
As much as I didn’t relish the idea of spending any more time with Logan Bane, I had to admire his timeliness. He pulled up in a sleek, silver Mercedes at exactly 11:00 a.m. When I climbed into the pas-senger seat, he half smiled.