Deadly Offer by Vicki Doudera Page A

sheepish little grin.
    “I can’t help but think it is funny that in this market, my sister would have not one, but three offers on her property. She must have been some terrific salesperson.”
    “The property sells itself,” Dan said, his voice tight.
    Darby threw him a glance, surprised to see a look of longing cross his handsome features. He wanted the property too , she realized.
    “So where does it stand now?” Carlos was finally sitting, although he looked ready to spring from his chair. “Who was the lucky one that Selena picked?”
    Dan took a sip of wine and shrugged again. “I can honestly say that I don’t know. She didn’t tell me, and I didn’t ask. I think she was prepared to call one of the buyers today.”
    Darby’s mind went over the scenario. Multiple offers to purchase a breathtakingly beautiful vineyard, and then the untimely passing of the vineyard’s owner. It was all so strange. She cleared her throat.
    “Do you know if Selena had a will?”
    The brothers glanced uncomfortably at each other and shook their heads.
    “I found the contact information for her lawyer,” Dan said. “I left a message at his office today.”
    “Thank you,” murmured ET.
    “In the meantime, what do we do about these offers on the property?” Carlos directed his question to Darby.
    “I’d recommend doing nothing until you’ve had a chance to confirm the particulars of each offer as well as Selena’s final wishes for the property,” said Darby. “She may have mentioned something to her lawyer. It’s too soon to do much more.”
    Carlos grimaced. “What if she already chose someone? Does her death negate the whole thing?”
    Darby shook her head. “If she accepted one of the offers, chances are you will be obligated to carry out her wishes, but it won’t be a quick sale.”
    “What do you mean?” Carlos asked. “Why not?”
    “Under California law, the property will have to go through probate, and that’s a long process. All of Selena’s non-cash assets will need to be appraised by a probate referee, and that could take months.”
    ET spoke once more. “I don’t understand. My sister loved Carson Creek. She poured her heart and soul, not to mention every penny, into this property. Why in the world would she have wanted to sell it?”
    “I think I know why.” Everyone turned to see Sophie Stewart, standing in the kitchen doorway, holding a tray full of plastic bottles with orange caps. Pointing at the prescription medicine, the teen drew on her training as a candy striper at Ventano Valley Community Hospital and stated in a clear, strong voice: “Selena Thompson was sick.”

Four
    Harrison Wainfield surveyed the St. Adina farmland with a critical eye. Twenty acres of prime grape-growing land, and only twenty minutes from town, but when he’d mentioned it to Margo Contento, she wouldn’t even take a look. “Too far,” she’d sniffed on the phone, and he’d known by her imperious tone that it was pointless to try and convince her otherwise. He gritted his teeth and gunned his Mercedes, sending small stones skittering in a plume below his tires.
    The sienna-colored fields, now home to a dwindling herd of cows, whizzed by as the real estate agent sped up the hill leading away from the property. The Contento family had been his client for more than a decade, and the relationship was both a blessing and a curse. Sure, he’d made money buying and selling homes and land for them, but dealing with the various Contento personalities was not a walk in the park. Margo, with her mane of blonde hair and cover-girl looks, was a tigress. She and her father, Michael, were opinionated to the point where they barely listened to each other, never mind his wise advice. Tim, Margo’s twin brother, came off as passive, but he could turn vicious in a heartbeat. And Andrea? To Harrison Wainfield, Michael Contento’s wife equaled danger.
    He pictured her pointed little face and sly smile and felt a longing