The old man had told him that his cousin Douglas was visiting. Douglas had been there at the house for nearly a week now. Ryan had tried to seem happy that his uncle had a visitor, but inwardly, he was seething.Leave it to that gypsy Douglas to sneak in and work on Uncle Howard before any of us could get there, Ryan thought. He was anxious to tell his father about his cousin’s sneaky ways. They didn’t trust Douglas. He played at being carefree and happy-go-lucky, a hippie on a motorcycle who didn’t give a damn about money and inheritance. But he was fooling them all. He wanted that house. He wanted all of Uncle Howard’s property. Ryan was certain of it.Ryan glanced in the mirror at himself and liked what he saw. He’d just come from the pool, and his hair was slicked back against his head, his chiseled body glistening. He had not six abdominals but eight. His eyes brimmed with ambition and desire. He was as dark as Douglas was fair. Uncle Howard liked to say that Douglas was a lady-killer—in fact, at that very moment, Douglas was charming a young lady who was working for him.
