My gut tightened as I glanced at my watch. The family should be here any minute. “I’m guessing not well.” Why was it that some people who had so much, only hungered for more? As if just knowing that they were missing out on one small piece of the pie was enough to send them into a rage, even if they couldn’t possibly eat everything that was in front of them.

Penny tapped her pen against her desk. “Never cared for them. Clark and Annabelle always acted like they 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?”