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At some point, the road turned from pavement to brick. The shops faded away into elite homes. Now it felt like we were on a different planet.
Most of the homes were at least four stories high, only a handful were three. There were brick and stone walls around each yard, and high gates. There were enclosed gardens and what looked like detached garages. While the neighborhood looked nice, it was also very closed off. Why build homes so close together and then put high walls around them? It felt crowded. And with most of the homes being so tall, one could easily stand in their house and see behind their neighbor’s wall, so there wasn’t much real privacy.
“Here it is,” Victor said. He pointed out the passenger side window. “Over there.”
I sat up and ducked my head around Silas to stare out the window. There was a high stone and iron wall around a corner lot, with trees just inside. Between the bars, I could see a large grass yard. There was a gazebo and fancy square-cut bushes and manicured walking paths. I couldn’t see a house. “You mean after this park?” I asked.
Silas’s laugh rumbled through me. He pointed out the front window. “It’s part of the same. There’s the house.”
Even with him pointing, I was leaning far over him to try to get a view of the whole house. I caught a glimpse of the top two floors over the wall and through the trees.
Victor made another turn, bringing us to a wrought-iron gate, exposing the grandeur of the front of the house.
The house was ... huge.
Yellow siding was layered between white carved trim. Two curving staircases lead up to a broad front porch. There were second and third floor balconies above. What struck me most was the enormity of it. Compared to a few of the other neighbors, this one appeared to be double the size.
Silas pointed his finger to a far corner where the wall started up again. “Wait for it.”
Victor drove past the front of the house, around the corner. Further down, there was a break in the wall. Victor pressed a button on his car, and the gate opened up.
He pulled into the drive. There was a second house behind the first one, and it was about as big as my house, with two stories, and a chimney. Two other buildings sat on either side, one looked like a huge garage, the other one almost looked like a smaller house. “You have neighbors that live on the same property? You share the same drive?”
Victor chuckled. He pointed at the two story house. “That’s a kitchen house.” He pointed to the smaller house. “That’s a carriage house and the other building is the garage.”
I slid back into the middle seat, turning to him. “You have a carriage?”
They both started laughing.
“No, sweetie,” Victor said. “It might’ve held a few carriages a long time ago. These days they usually renovate them into living quarters.”
“So someone lives there?”
“No one lives there.” He parked just outside of the garage. Victor snapped off his seatbelt and opened the door, stepping out. He held out his hand to me. “Welcome home.”
I sucked in a breath, taking his hand and allowing him to assist me out. It felt weird that he called it home in a tone that said it was mine as well as his. It didn’t seem possible.
The carriage house and the kitchen house were brick, with green double doors in the front and the rest of the house expanding on either side. They looked like a lot of the other homes I’d seen in other neighborhoods. They almost felt out of place next to the bigger estate.
Silas stepped out of the car, collecting our book bags and shoving them over his shoulder. “Should we go through the front door? Give her the tour?”
Victor shook his head. “Not today. George or Jasmine might be home.” He started heading down a pathway that wound around a manicured fern garden on the way to the main house.
“Who are they?” I asked, catching up with him. My eyes darted between the bushes, the tall old oak trees, the back door to the large house, and the wall that blocked us in from the rest of the neighborhood. The gate had swung back into place. What would happen when the others arrived? Did they have a way in?
“My parents,” he said in a casual tone, seeming disinterested in the subject. “If my father’s home, he might be in his study, and going through the front would draw his attention. And if Jasmine is home, we’ll get stuck in one of her tours and never get anything done. I’d rather not deal with that right now.”
I didn’t know if I was ready for that, either. Victor had mentioned his father was mean. I didn’t understand why he referred to them both by their first names. I glanced back at Silas for answers to silent questions. Are we sure we won’t run into them? Should we even be here?
Silas waved me on, encouraging me to follow Victor.
Up the steps, through a rear door, and down a dark, short hallway, Victor led the way to a back staircase. He moved quickly and I barely got a glimpse of wood floors, gaudy gold-framed portraits, and side tables clustered with pottery.
Silas nudged my shoulder briefly to get my attention and pointed up.
The ceilings were intricately carved. There were palm leaves down the middle, and the trim along the corners depicted scenes of fields, dogs running, and of forests and oceans. Some were of old houses and streets similar to the ones we drove on downtown.
My mouth was hanging open, and I stopped following Victor, turning around to gaze up at the details.
“Not now, Princess,” Victor called. He was already halfway up the stairs.
I dashed to catch up.
Three floors up, I nearly bumped into Victor as he stopped short after the stairs. He turned, catching my hand, tugging me along.
Down a hallway to the left, there were matching doors on the left and right side. Victor passed these and headed to the end where the hallway opened up to a room.
The area reminded me of something like a living or entertainment room. There were several wide windows that overlooked the large grass yard. A beige rug covered much of the dark wood floor. A white couch sat against the far wall, wider than I’d ever seen a couch before. There was a round, dark wood dining table to the right, with seven chairs surrounding it, with two more chairs under the window by the wall. Next to the table, against the wall was a small kitchenette, with a mini fridge built into the cabinet, a small sink, and an overhanging wrought-iron rack holding glasses, mugs, and dishes.
To the left was a collection of leather armchairs surrounding an entertainment center cabinet.
The room smelled familiar to me. There was Victor’s berry and moss, which I expected. There were the lingering aromas of spice, vanilla, and cypress, and other things that I knew. There was also the headiness of old furniture, leather and cleaners I wasn’t used to, settling on top of it. But feeling the boys had been there before, and regularly, made the room less intimidating to me.
“This is where you usually hold meetings,” I said, meaning to make it a question but I pretty much knew the answer.
“Yes,” Victor said, remaining beside me, gazing about the room as I did, as if trying to see the room through my eyes. “This is one of the few rooms I could get renovated for us. It took a while to get the proper permits.”
“Permits?” I asked.
“The Historical Society wants to keep this home in the Stone Age,” Victor said. “I can hardly move a chair or replace the sheets without permission of the committee. I’m probably lucky to get running water up here.”
Silas walked around us, dropping our bags on top of an antique wooden trunk that served as the coffee table in front of the white couch. He dropped onto the couch, sitting back, rubbing his forehead with his palm. “It’s better up here,” he said. “Downstairs you can’t touch anything. I feel like I have to walk around with my hands in my pockets so I don’t break anything.”
I drifted over to the white couch, mostly because Silas sat there and I felt it was okay that I could do so, too. I tried to walk as light as a feather, the desire to explore and touch things brimming to the surface,
but too shy to ask right now.
Silas patted the spot next to him. I slipped down beside him, biting my lip to remind myself to keep my feet on the floor. I was eager to curl up. The third floor held onto the chillier morning air and my skin bristled with goose bumps. “What do we do now?”
“We’ll wait for the others to get here,” Victor said. He wrenched off his blazer, tossing it on top of the collection of our book bags. “I don’t think we’re going back to school today.”
Silas sat up, tugging his blazer off. “I hate this thing,” he said, shoving it on top of Victor’s. He started undoing the red tie. “Why are we still wearing them, anyway? We should just wear street clothes. The kids already know who we are.”
“It isn’t our call,” Victor said. “The school board wanted us to, so we’re doing it.”
Silas grumbled, stripping off the white shirt, leaving a ribbed tank top on underneath. When he was done, he settled into the corner, lifting his arm around the back of the couch. He gazed down at me. “What’s wrong, aggele mou?”
My eyes widened at him. “Nothing.”
“You haven’t moved an inch since we got here.”
Victor grinned. “I think she’s in shock.”
