Inez shrugged.
“Depends on zoning, access, environmental restrictions, and what the county allows.”
“Could be worthless?”
“Could be.”
Dad almost looked relieved.
I laughed.
“You’re the only man I know who discovers land and hopes it has no value.”
“I already have enough trouble with one property.”
Two days later, we drove out together.
Dad.
Mom.
Derek.
Veronica.
Me.
And Inez, who insisted she was coming because, in her words, “Your family has demonstrated a remarkable ability to discover documents in inconvenient places.”
The road narrowed past town.
Carmona opened into fields and low hills.
The property entrance was nearly hidden behind brush.
An old chain hung from two stone posts, but there was no lock.
We walked in.
The agricultural shed had mostly collapsed.
Behind it stood a smaller building.
That one survived.
The roof sagged slightly, but the frame was intact.
Dad approached it as if he were approaching an old friend.
