were too good for everyone else on Anchor, and they spoiled their son rotten.”
“I’ve never met Grant.” I’d only met Harriet’s son, Clark, and his wife, Annabelle, in brief passing during their last visit to the island a few years ago.
Penny clucked her tongue. “He’s something. Never understood that the answer to one of his requests just might be ‘no.’”
Well, he was about to learn the word. The vast majority of Harriet’s estate had been earmarked for assorted charities. Trusts had been left for Clark and Grant, but Grant’s inheritance had a stipulation. He had to complete five hundred hours of community service at a specific homeless shelter in Seattle before he could access the fund. Harriet had become good friends with the shelter manager and had made sure Grant wouldn’t be able to charm or buy his way out of this one.
“What are you smiling about?”
“Just Harriet’s craftiness.”
A smile stretched across Penny’s face. “She’s gonna try and teach that boy a lesson from the grave, isn’t she?”
“That she is.”
The bell over the office door jingled as it opened. The woman who entered scowled up at the gold bell as if she were offended by its sound. She probably hated Christmas and Santa, too.
“Hello, Mrs. Abbot. Mr. Abbot. And you must be Grant.”
The three people who were clearly related poured into the office waiting room. Clark reached out a hand, shaking mine. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. McCoy.”
“Please, call me Crosby. I just wish it were under better circumstances.”
“I wish it were in a timely manner,” Annabelle griped.
“Now, Annabelle, the delay gave us a chance to get settled.”
She huffed, muttering something I couldn’t hear.
Grant Abbot extended a hand. “Good to meet you. Thank you for making time for us this afternoon.” The man was much as I had expected, wearing a crisp, button-down shirt and tailored slacks. He was polite but wore an air of superiority that I was far too familiar with.
“Why don’t we head into the conference room? Would you like some tea or coffee? Water?”
Annabelle started ahead of us. “What I’d like is to move this charade of a meeting along so that we can get off this island as soon as possible. I’ve spent too much of my life in this godforsaken place already.”
Grant chuckled. “Can you tell she’s not much for small-town life?”
“Anchor isn’t for everyone.” And I was damn glad I didn’t have to share thirty square miles with this woman. I followed her into the small conference room and motioned to the chairs. “Please, take a seat. The folders on the table are copies of Harriet’s most recent will. I’d be more than happy to have them sent to your attorney if you’d like, as well.”
Clark stiffened in his seat. “What do you mean, her most recent will? Mother has had the same will since Dad died.”
I cleared my throat. “She made some changes to it a few years ago after she was diagnosed with heart disease.”
“Why the hell wasn’t I consulted?”
I met Clark’s increasingly angry stare. This was where the true colors began to show. I kept my tone calm and even. “Because you aren’t my client, your mother is.”
Heat colored Clark’s cheeks. “My mother was not in good health, and probably not in her right mind to make any changes to her will.”
I fought to keep the expression on my face neutral. “I assure you, Harriet was in perfect mental health when she made these changes. She’d had a checkup just the week before, and I made sure to have Dr. Kipton sign off on her well-being at the time of signing.” I’d also given Kipton a call earlier in the day to make sure he’d stand by his findings.
Clark opened his mouth to say something else, but Grant held up a hand. “Dad, let’s just read the will and see what’s what. There might not be anything to get upset over.”
Clark scowled at his son but flipped open his folder and began reading. It wasn’t long before he was muttering curses, and Annabelle was gasping. Her gaze snapped to mine. “You have got to be kidding me. I support my charitable causes as much as the next person, but this is ridiculous.”
I stayed silent. What was there to say? You’re a greedy bitch?
Grant’s head jerked up. His tone remained even, but heat blazed in his eyes. “There’s a contingency on my trust that isn’t on my father’s.”
“That’s correct. It was a wish of your grandmother’s that you get