Page 326 of The Romance Adventure

“Well, don’t let me interrupt you as you devise plans to conquer the island. But, um, if Glandman keeps coming around, we wouldn’t exactly object to you giving him the ‘ole...” With her thumb lifted, Rosalie gestures over her shoulder and tips her head back as if to say, Get rid of him.

“Has Glandman been bothering you?” Magnus’s tone would make an outsider think he’s the sheriff.

“More like sniffing around, as if he’s trying to catch a scent.” Rosalie glances at the variety of mutts and retired military working dogs surrounding Lally.

If Glandman so much as looks at Lally wrong, I have no doubt they’d attack—especially Madame de Pupadour. Though given the strange warning Lally got, I’m not surprised she’s on guard.

However, I’m not convinced it was Glandman.

Yes, I’m known for my theories about treasure—that’s close to being proven true, thank you very much.

It’s also no secret that I believe our parents are still alive. While my brothers see me as a gold-digging opportunist who wants to get rich, the truth is that treasure is a means to an end.

The one theory that’s not yet widely accepted is that not everyone is who they seem, starting with Chip and our parents, includes me, and maybe even my wife. But it’s just a hypothesis and flimsy at that.

And one I don’t want to think about.

But that’s the thing about me—I can’t help but notice things. Maybe that’s a byproduct of being the invisible baby brother. What isn’t observed in me, I see in others.

Rosalie waves goodbye, and we all shift closer to avoid prying ears, ready to get down to business. This is my chance.

I say, “Guys, I have something important to tell you.”

“Yeah, I heard that the swell is up too, the last dregs of storm season. But we’re not here to talk about catching waves,” Ryan says, turning to Royal.

Apparently, he’s the one who called the meeting.

In a low tone, in case Rosalie’s still in earshot, Royal says, “While reviewing some of Chip’s documents, we discovered he owns a property in Barbados.”

“There is a great right-hander on the East Coast in St. Joseph. Only a short walk from the house.” This gives me zero credibility and merely serves to strengthen their surf-bum case, but it had to be said.

“What house?” my brothers ask at once, picking up on my comment that I knew about the house. If they’d spend half the time listening to me as they do their own voices, they’d know about the house. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a dead end.

“Chip’s house,” I say.

Royal narrows his eyes. “You knew Chip owned a house in Barbados and didn’t tell us?”

“Technically, Emmie owns it now.” I cast my gaze easterly.

Three sets of eyes wearing various versions of a glare look at me.

I shrug. “Chip left her a lot of things. I’m not sure why that’s relevant.” But as soon as the words are out, I realize why. “Because there’s a chance Aunt Lorena sent the postcard from there.”

Magnus gives a single nod in affirmation as if this just occurred to him, too.

“I didn’t make that connection. You’re not as thick as you look,” Ryan says to me.

“Hadn’t thought of that,” Royal mutters.

“I can go down there and check it out,” I offer. “But first, I want to tell you⁠—”

Magnus interrupts. “Not a bad idea. Lally and I have to look after the dogs and the others are expecting.”

Isla tips her head, upset about being omitted. “I’m still in my first trimester and perfectly capable of adventuring, especially if it involves visiting a tropical island.”

“Strawberry Shortcake, we live on a tropical island.”

She frowns. “True.”