Deadly Inheritance: A Romantic Suspense by Amy Corwin Page B

wasn’t healthful. The mixture of broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, and peas was crisp and certainly not overcooked, but nothing seemed to have any flavor.
    Except the herb seasoning. That was surprisingly good with its blend of rosemary, oregano, thyme, basil, marjoram, and a few other herbs she wasn’t sure she could identify. No salt or pepper flakes, though, and she missed them. Obviously, Sarah was used to cooking for an older man who preferred healthy, but bland, food.
    Not that it had done him any good to pamper his heath. He’d been barely sixty when he’d died.
    “You’ll be thrilled to know this is pretty much what we have for supper, too.” Candy held a small forkful of chicken in front of her mouth and stared at it with a frown, as if hoping it would transform into something else.
    “Actually, Miz Candace, we’re having fish. Haddock.” Sarah’s neutral expression made Nora take a second look at her.
    She could have sworn there was a brief flicker of amusement in Sarah’s gray eyes. Maybe the bland food was a new thing, aimed at annoying the cousins. Nora felt a sudden sympathy, almost kinship, with the older woman. It couldn’t be easy to cook and clean for this group.
    Drew and Mike ate doggedly, remaining silent, but anyone could see from their pinched, desperate expressions that they weren’t thrilled with lunch, or the prospect of fish for dinner.
    “So, you’re a vet?” Kirsty leaned forward again to try to catch Nora’s gaze. After weaving back and forth to see Nora around Gabe, she gave up with a shrug and took another mouthful of veggies. She, alone, appeared perfectly content with their lunch. “Mr. Leonard said you were.”
    “Yes. What about you?”
    “Tats. I work in a tattoo parlor,” Kirsty said with a touch of defiance that made her seem younger than her age, which Nora judged to be mid-twenties.
    She definitely had a Goth-vibe going with her dead black hair and fingernails painted black with purple tips in a creative twist on a French manicure. Tiers of alternating purple and black lace formed her skirt, and she wore a black denim shirt over a purple tee shirt, with black stretch lace wristbands as bracelets. Despite working in a tattoo shop, she did not appear to have any visible tattoos, so perhaps she wasn’t as easily swayed by what others did as she appeared.
    Candy laughed and shook her head. “Yeah, I’m sure she can get you a tat at a discount, if you suddenly lose your mind and decide to risk hepatitis to become some local yahoo’s canvas.”
    Her use of the term “canvas” suggested a bit more knowledge of tattooing than Nora expected. Maybe Candy’s clothes hid more than they seemed to.
    “What about you, Drew?” Nora ignored Candy, who seemed determined to prove that first impressions were usually right, and that she was as unpleasant as Nora had thought.
    Nora foresaw a very long two weeks if she had to spend much time in Cousin Eye -Candy’s company.
    Drew put his fork and knife down with what looked like a sigh of relief. “Investments.” He smiled at her and took a sip of sweet tea.
    Candy snorted. “Investments. Cousin Drew has a talent for attracting money—other people’s money—and investing it in his own pockets.”
    “Well, I find money is much more fun and much less complicated than other people’s spouses. But to each his—or her—own,” Drew commented in a drawling voice.
    Candy pretended not to hear his remark, although the hard line of her mouth revealed her anger.
    “I w-work at the l-library,” Mike said in an obvious bid to lighten the tension. He took a deep breath and smiled. “Research.”
    “That must be interesting,” Nora replied. “What do you research?”
    “W-whatever I’m asked. Last week, I helped an archeologist researching Vikings in the Americas.”
    His pleasure faded and transformed into a worried, self-conscious frown when Candy interrupted, “What does your friend do?”
    “He’s a ghost buster,”