39: Properties

Marta couldn't stop the frustration showing on her face. Her son had described it rather well with a simple question that implied everything she didn't want to hear, and she lowered her voice.
"Mario felt jealous of your father?"
"He did." Julián confirmed.
"But it's only natural — he was the great love of my life, and I had you and Melisa with him."
"But Mum — counting the days? Seriously?"
"Was that what it was?" She craned her neck like a hen. "I came across Sebastián's death certificate the other day and it just occurred to me to work it out."
"It didn't look like a coincidence, Mum." He exhaled. "I'd say it rubbed him the wrong way rather badly."
"And you, with all that paraphrasing — you're not much better, Julián, honestly." She complained.
He rolled his eyes and, taking his mother by the arm, steered her back towards the group to pretend everything was fine.
The rock-star owner seemed quite curious to know everyone's names. Then, as he showed them round the house — interrupting the estate agent Joaquín as he went — he found time to look each name up.
He was slightly thrown when Manuel told him his wife was Marta — the one who had fallen behind and was only now catching up with the question. He didn't ask any more about the couple, but someone had a question for him that had nothing to do with the price.
"Have the neighbours next door always lived there?"
"The Estuardos?" He seemed puzzled by the question from Mario. "They helped design many of the houses in this area. They've been there from the start."
Mario turned to his father and accused him with a look. Manuel understood perfectly what his son was reproaching him for, shook his head silently and mouthed "later" in a way that no one heard.
They counted six bedrooms and four bathrooms. There were two kitchens, and a cosy room beside the living room that was perfect for a shared home office.
"And in the little garden house, there are three bedrooms and two bathrooms!" Joaquín said with enthusiasm. "Which is exactly why the lady insisted on it!"
They went out to the garden and skirted the pool to reach the annexe.
The first thing they did was admire the high ceilings in the entrance, and then marvel at the play of light through the door when it was closed.
"Who will be living here?" the owner asked.
"I will." Marta stepped forward.
The man looked puzzled and, in front of Manuel, asked:
"And the big house?"
"He and his son will live there." She answered for him.
Apparently he had formed the wrong impression, and it was Mario who cleared it up.
"It's a commercial marriage — purely bureaucratic, between two friends who have merged their companies."
Marta looked at him with an admiration she was trying not to show. Julián smiled with quiet satisfaction. Melisa narrowed her eyes with suspicion. Felisa wore a smile of obvious knowingness. And Manuel was still processing what Marta had said with pure surprise.
The owner's face went through a growing sequence of expressions that felt eternal to everyone watching.
"I love it when buyers are honest!"
Joaquín sensed where this was going and asked:
"So you're finally going to sell the house?"
"Every candidate you've brought me has shown one face and said something completely different. I like this family — they're the ones."
Melisa gave a small offended jump.
"It's not as if we're the property!"
The man laughed. He turned to Joaquín and whispered something in his ear that visibly alarmed him.
"Seriously? For them, yes? For God's sake, Don Jota — that's quite something." After some quick mental arithmetic, he dropped the bombshell. "He doesn't want to inflate the market price for you — he's letting it go for just under two million euros, not four, as he's been telling me on every single viewing."
"Is your commission included in that?" Julián wanted to know.
"That puts it at a quarter above two million — though I'm not sure I shouldn't penalise him for stringing the agency along like this." He looked pointedly at the rock-star owner. "Isn't that right, Don Jota?"
"Seems like a fair price to me, honestly." Manuel commented.
Julián was the first to agree, and they were able to sign and pay the deposit.
The viewing concluded as Joaquín gathered the contract, and Marta looked back as she left the annexe, picturing herself stepping out of that little house and into the pool for a swim. She knew she had done something she wouldn't regret.
As they came out of the property, a fair-haired young man with dark eyes was waiting with an older, taller man who had the bearing of a wardrobe. It was Lope and Mauro again.
Manuel was surprised to see the younger one.
"Lope — is it really you?" He went to embrace him.
Mauro stepped forward protectively, but his employer waved him off and turned towards his uncle.
"Is this your new family?" Lope smiled with warm curiosity. "Mario told me they're his stepsiblings. Did you and Auntie divorce?"
"We've been out of touch for so long, nephew... Marcela passed away three years ago."
Lope raised his hand to his mouth, glanced at Mauro and gave a faint nod. Mauro inclined his head slightly and went back inside.
The young man extended his hand towards Felisa.
"I'm Lope — Manuel's nephew. Lovely to meet you."
The woman flushed quite noticeably. Marta smiled, raising her eyebrows. Between her and Mario, a look passed — the complicity of people who know something others don't.
"I'm not—" Felisa took a step back and waved her hands. "Manuel's wife is my sister-in-law Marta." She pointed to her.
Marta stepped forward and shook his hand.
Mario pressed his hands together and smiled at his cousin.
"We're going to head home, Lope — we've got a move to start organising."
"No, wait a moment!"
Everyone looked at each other.
"Why?"
"Maybe this way my mother will want to come out. Do you mind?"
Mario looked at his father, partly puzzled, partly seeking permission with his eyes, and partly hoping he'd give some kind of explanation.
"I won't go into that house out of respect for your mother — but you're free to do as you like, Mario."
He straightened up with something between concern and reluctance, then turned back to his cousin.
"If she can come as far as the door..."