Rarities Unlimited 03 - Die in Plain Sight

she read the heading on the first sheet. “I’m not going to sign away my birthright to that sleek little church-talking bitch so that Daddy can have a fucking monument built to his everlasting memory.”
    “Your choice,” Savoy said evenly. “But if you don’t sign this deal, your birthright will consist of ten dollars and your father’s fervent hope that you roast in hell.”
    Bliss’s head snapped up. “What?”
    “You heard me.”
    “I don’t believe it.”
    The corner of Savoy’s mouth turned down. “Believe it.”
    She stared at her brother for a long moment. “He’d do that to his own daughter?”
    “After what happened to our Moonie siblings, do you have to ask? Dad hasn’t so much as spoken to them for thirty years. Hell, he won’t even listen if I speak about them.”
    “Jesus, thirty years.” Bliss shook her head, staggered by all the time. Where had it gone? “Has it really been that long?”
    “Yeah. And nothing has changed since,” Savoy said wearily, “except that Dad’s gotten less patient with people who get in his way on business.”
    Rory put a comforting arm around her waist.
    “When you sign,” Savoy said, “you’ll get your credit cards back. He’s a no-holds-barred son of a bitch when it comes to running the ranch his way, but he doesn’t hold grudges.”
    Bliss tilted her head back. Tears fell anyway. “Damn, damn, damn him. He always wins.”
    “Marry me,” Rory said. “I can’t keep you like a queen, but you won’t starve.”
    She gave him a watery smile. “You keep making me wonder why I ever walked away from you.” She looked at her brother and the smile faded. “Where’s a pen?”
    Savoy reached into his breast pocket and gave her a pen.
    “You don’t have to,” Rory said. “Money isn’t—”
    “I won’t deny money is part of it,” she interrupted, her voice as defeated as the line of her back. “I’m too old to be happy on the pensionof a public servant, and I know it. You wouldn’t be happy having to find another job flipping burgers, and you know it.” She looked up and met Rory’s eyes directly. “Just like you know that if Daddy thought you were standing between me and my signature on this, he’d crucify you. So there’s no real choice, is there?”
    Savoy didn’t disagree.
    Neither did Rory. He’d never wanted to be one of the “retired” senior citizens working in fast-food joints to make payments on their medical prescriptions.
    Silently Bliss signed the New Horizons papers and handed them back to her brother. “Well, it was fun while it lasted.”
    “What was?” Rory asked.
    “Yanking his chain.” She smiled thinly at both men. “It was a hell of a lot more satisfying than being one more Honey Bear licking his feet.”

Corona del Mar
    Friday night
41
    H ands on hips, Susa stood back and looked at the various paintings. So did Lacey. It reminded her of what a hard time she’d had picking just three canvases for Susa to view.
    “You’ve selected as many as you’ve rejected,” Ian said.
    “More, actually,” she said.
    “I was trying to be tactful,” he muttered.
    “Don’t strain anything.” But she smiled at him to take the bite out of her words. “Truth is, I’m having a hell of a time choosing. Each painting pretty much looks better than the others. He must have been ruthless when he culled his work through the years.”
    “No originals?” Ian asked.
    Susa shrugged. “Nothing that leaped out at me. Would Rarities rather have a handful to work with or a whole bunch?”
    “I don’t know.” He looked at his watch. By now, Dana and Niall would probably be kicking back over garden catalogues, arguing aboutwhat to plant next spring. Niall would be looking for new varieties of peonies or violets. Dana would be back in the herb section of the seed magazines, licking her lips over the culinary possibilities and wondering how to sneak those bloody weeds into Niall’s gardens. “Want me to call and ask?”
    “No,” Susa said. “If they need more from me, I’ll handle it after the auction tomorrow.”
    “You’re leaving tomorrow,” Ian said.
    She shrugged. “I’ll stay an extra day or two if Dana wants it.”
    “I take it the Donovan is still in Uzbekistan?” Ian asked, trying not to smile.
    “Eating mystery meat from communal pots,” she agreed. “Everything that was once the eastern reaches of the USSR is rediscovering—or reinventing—tribal rituals to sanctify daily life of all