Page 17 of The Curse Breaker

“Are you here about the…inheritance?” she said, stiffening.

“I wasn’t supposed to be, but yes.” Peter expression turned grave. “I received a call last night telling me you didn’t finish Evelyn’s game in time.”

But I did finish! she wanted to shout. I found the island! But she knew she couldn’t.

“I’m sorry, Benny,” Harris said, frowning. “I couldn’t hold her off.”

“I’m the one who called Fineman, Larken, and Burr,” said a new voice.

Benny saw a woman’s shadow in the doorway next to Peter. Benny looked up. Vivian Rudd was wearing a cool cream pantsuit, had an expensive-looking brown leather bag hung from the crux of her elbow in one arm, and was holding a teacup in the other hand. Her gray and palest of blond hair was coiffed and sprayed into a short bouffant like so many women of a certain age favored, and she wore a pale pink lipstick. Her smile looked artificial and thin. Like Ryan’s always is, Benny thought.

Vivian, the Rudd matriarch, would be the heir to Evelyn Terry’s fortune if Benny didn’t find the island before the deadline. Those were the rules, which made Benny want to scream, because not only did Vivian not need the money (she basically owned all of Greenport), Evelyn didn’t like the Rudds, and from what Benny had learned so far, the Rudds had not liked Evelyn. They blamed Evelyn for Axel’s death. He’s alive, she thought. She couldn’t tell Vivian that either.

“Good morning Mrs. Rudd,” Benny said politely. Her heart was pounding so hard, she could hear it. Be strong, she told herself, looking around the beautiful house her mom was so at home in already. Benny too, if she allowed herself to be honest. This fight isn’t over yet.

“Good morning, dear,” Vivian practically purred. “Why don’t we all sit down in the kitchen to discuss the matter at hand? No reason for us to be standing when my lawyer is inside. Don’t you agree, Mr. Stapleton?”

“Yes, Mrs. Rudd,” Peter said tightly. “After you.”

Vivian led the way while Harris and the officers followed. Benny and her mom looked at their lawyer.

“Don’t speak unless I ask you to,” Peter said quietly. “Let me do the talking.”

“I cannot believe that woman called you already,” Benny’s mother hissed. “Harris told me she was difficult, but I cannot believe she’d sweep in to take a child’s inheritance!”

Peter winked at her mom, then smiled reassuringly at Benny. “No one is taking anything today. Just let me talk. Understood?”

Benny nodded and put a trembling hand on her mom’s arm. If there was one thing she was good at, it was dealing with difficult people. Landlords, building maintenance staff, school administration when her mom didn’t show up for scheduled meetings because she had to take a second shift. Killing them with kindness. It was Benny’s secret weapon. “It will be okay, Mom.”

“Of course, honey. I’m sure it will.” Her mom didn’t look convinced though.

They followed Peter into the kitchen. A pasty man eating a muffin was already seated, a stack of papers in front of him. He had thinning hair, concealed with a bad comb-over and bushy eyebrows that could not be tamed.

“Finally!” the man said. “Can we get this over with already? I’ve got a two-hour drive back to the city, and if it rains the way they say it will, l will be stuck on the Long Island Expressway forever.”

Peter held a chair out for Benny and her mom. “Benny, this is Vivian Rudd’s attorney, Angus Rudd. He’s here to discuss Evelyn Terry’s estate, seeing as how today is June twelfth, the date in question.”

Another Rudd. Of course. “Hello,” Benny said politely.

Angus grunted.

Vivian sat down across from them and placed her hands on the table, threading them and smiling like a cat that had just swallowed a canary. “I hope you can understand, Everly, that this is not personal. It’s business, plain and simple.” She glanced at the officers behind her. “They’re just here in case there are any issues.”

“Yes, because calling police officers and showing up at someone’s home to demand a meeting is not unusual at all,” Peter said somewhat tartly.

Benny liked that Peter was on her side.

“You will direct all conversation to me, Stapleton,” said Angus. He pointed to the papers in front of him. “The deadline is June twelfth, and today is June twelfth. We’re just here to remind you she must be done with this island business by eleven fifty-nine p.m. tonight, or Evelyn Terry’s estate goes to the largest shareholder of the inn and vineyard, which is Vivian Rudd.”

Her mom reached for her hand under the table. Benny squeezed her mom’s hand. She couldn’t help but think of the worst-case scenario: Vivian Rudd tossing them out on the curb tonight at midnight. Inheritance or no inheritance, Benny would finish Evelyn’s new game and save Kimble and her friends. That was a promise. But what she didn’t understand is why Evelyn gave her so little time to get everything done.

Peter put on glasses and shuffled through papers. “This isn’t as clear-cut as you think.”

“Oh?” Angus looked at Vivian. “Clearly you don’t know estate planning. You see—”

“What I see,” Peter interrupted, pulling a stack of papers from a tattered envelope, yellowed and musty, “is Evelyn Terry’s rules for Everly Benedict, as stated in her letter to Evelyn, which you have a copy of, and those rules state the game must be played by June twelfth, but in Evelyn’s will, it also states she has till June twenty-fifth to complete everything.” Peter smirked at Benny conspiringly. “Everything being a broad term means that the game can still be in motion.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Angus growled.