Blood Kin by Judith E. French

desk with an old-fashioned black phone in the front corner. Forest McCready might be a simple country lawyer, but he wasn’t a poor one.
    Two Irish setters, tails wagging and tongues lolling, rose from a magnificent blue-and-cream rug in front of the fireplace. “Down,” Forest said. “Miss Elliott hasn’t come to see you.” He dug into a pocket of his khakis, produced two dog biscuits, and tossed one to each animal.
    â€œThey’re beautiful,” Bailey said. “And the rug too. Unusual, with the indigo-and-navy coloring. I’ve never seen one like it. It must be old.”
    â€œYes, it is. My grandfather bought it in China. It’s Tibetan, early nineteenth century. I’ve tried to convince Fee and Ryan that it’s not exclusively theirs, but I’m outnumbered.” He waved her to a high-backed chair and lifted a silver teapot. “Tea? Or would you prefer coffee?”
    â€œTea is fine.” Delicious scents rose from a basket of scones, a flowered plate of tiny crescent sandwiches, and a crystal bowl of strawberries dipped in chocolate.
    â€œSugar?” the attorney asked. “Please. Help yourself. I’m famished. Didn’t have time for lunch before I left the mainland. My sister Maude had these waiting for me when I got here.” He arched a graying eyebrow mischievously. “That and a tongue-lashing for keeping you waiting. She won’t let me forget it anytime soon.”
    Bailey took a deep breath and plunged in. “I went out to Elizabeth Somers’s farmhouse today. Tell me that that splendid old house isn’t what she left to me.”
    Forest shrugged. “I’m afraid it is. The farm is the onlyproperty she owned, two hundred and forty acres, a twenty-two-foot skiff, and the household furnishings. Savings aren’t much, somewhere in the neighborhood of a hundred and sixty-seven thousand, I believe, mostly in CDs. Elizabeth wasn’t into taking chances in the stock market.” He took a sandwich. “Try them, please. She-crab with just a hint of chives. And Margaret makes her own bread. Wonderful.”
    Her hands began to tremble so that the thin porcelain cup and saucer began to rattle. Bailey set them down on the table, opened her mouth to make a reply, and came up blank. “I’m sorry,” she stammered when she could finally speak. “Did I hear you correctly? The bequest to me is a hundred and sixty-seven thousand dollars, that house, and over two hundred acres of waterfront property?” When Forest nodded, smiled, and took a bite of his sandwich, she continued. “An aunt that I never knew existed left all that to me?”
    Forest finished the sandwich, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and met her disbelieving gaze. “All of the land isn’t waterfront. Much is marshland, woods, and upland pasture. It’s in the form of a trust, so some, but not all, of the bequest is sheltered from taxes, but you will owe quite a bit to federal and state agencies. With the price of land today, you should have no problem covering those expenses.”
    â€œBut why me?”
    â€œSimple. Elizabeth was a childless widow, your grandfather Owen Tawes’s only sister. Owen had a twin brother. There was just the three of them: Elizabeth, Owen, and Will. Your grandfather died long before you were born. Other than her estranged brother, you’re the closest relative Elizabeth had left alive. Real blood kin, as we like to say on the island. Elizabeth’s alwaystaken an interest in your welfare. She was instrumental in your private adoption. Actually, both of your adoptive parents have distant ties to family on Tawes, but that’s going back generations.”
    Bailey couldn’t feel her feet or her hands, and she had the distinct sensation that her brain was as numb as the rest of her. “I understood that adoptive children couldn’t inherit from birth relatives. Isn’t there a