Page 49 of The Romance Adventure

“But why did you read the will, Isla?” I give my head a little shake. It’s going to take me a minute to get used to calling her that or thinking of her as anything but Strawberry Shortcake.

“Because I have a chocolate habit I have to feed somehow,” Isla says.

The corner of Ryan’s lip lifts. “I get that.”

“If you’re on steroids—” Magnus is ready to wind up.

“I’m part of a voluntary testing transparency program for athletes. The grit on the gridiron is all mine, no performance-enhancing drugs involved, and I’m proud of it,” Ryan says.

“We have to get some food in these guys,” Isla says, rustling behind the counter.

Like last night with the pizza, she’s efficient and brings out an assortment of baked goods and beverages, including freshly squeezed orange juice.

“I helped myself to Mr. Edmonton’s tree.”

“You were up early,” Bean says.

“I hardly slept.” Isla’s gaze flitters to me like a butterfly on a bush.

I frown, wondering what that was supposed to mean, but then the sisters exchange a look like calling me Forrest Grump wasn’t the only time my name was brought up in conversation.

True to form, Magnus calls order. “Chip left us with a stipulation. We’re going to figure this out.”

Instead, gripes are shared. Complaints pitched. Discussion about whether there really is a family fortune, along with who and how to manage it, bandy between us.

“CJ was telling us the story about the lost crown. Is there more?”

“Of course, but it’s baloney, like I said.”

“From what I understand, João, the heir, was distraught,” Magnus starts.

“You’re onboard with this, too?” I ask my oldest brother.

He blinks slowly and says, “I never claimed not to believe it. Anyway, our great-great or so grandfather became despondent, but that soon turned into bitterness. He was angry and got into brawls. Mostly, he held his own, but eventually took one too many punches and was killed, leaving Márcia to take care of the family. A royal family she’d married into, and they had five kids at that point. She appealed to the House of Sousa, but they offered her nothing, not even help for the grandchildren.”

“Are we really listening to this story hour?”

With a rapt audience of three—Isla, Bean, and Ryan—Magnus carries on. “Márcia was resourceful. She did what she needed to do to help the family survive, including trading with pirates.”

I let out a sigh, and add, “Even becoming one if you’re inclined to believe this campfire garbage.”

“She was the pirate queen and crafted, then wore, the Coroa de Lágrimas—over the loss of her husband and status—and swore revenge on the House of Sousa for driving her to it,” Magnus finishes like he, too has a vendetta to pay back.

Turning to Isla, I say, “If you’re still inclined to associate with so-called descendants of pirates, your estate administrator tasks can start with forgetting the entire tale.”

She smiles as if emboldened by the pirate queen and says, “I prefer executress. Sounds more powerful. And yes, you’ll carry out instructions under my supervision.”

“Don’t let this go to your head or anything,” I mutter.

Isla leans toward my brothers and me. “The way I see it, the McGregor brothers received an invitation from an estranged family member. Things are not entirely what they seem—or what certain family members want to see. Your grandfather left you with a challenge in place of the family fortune, perhaps a way to reconcile the past. Will you rise to the occasion and solve an age-old mystery along the way?”

“Aye,” Ryan says like he’s part of a pirate crew.

I’d like to lead a mutiny, but after thinking about the Driftwood half the night, I say, “Although I’d like to tear down the buildings on the peninsula, I’ll go along with rehabbing the resort because it could become a lucrative investment.”

“Then yo-ho-ho. We have our heading,” Isla says like a character in a pirate movie.

I drain the rest of my coffee. “I’m surprised Chip put everything in a trust. Figured he’d leave me to handle it.”