PART 3
I swallowed.
“My grandmother passed away almost two years ago.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then why am I only hearing about this now?”
Another pause.
“That’s precisely what I’d like to discuss with you. However, before we proceed, I need to ask you something. Have you received any correspondence from our office regarding a trust established by your grandmother?”
“No.”
“Not even a certified letter?”
“No.”
He exhaled slowly.
“That’s concerning.”
I looked toward Fred, who was standing by the kitchen counter making coffee.
He noticed my expression and immediately put the coffee pot down.
I covered the phone for a moment.
“It’s about Grandma’s estate,” I whispered.
His face changed.
“Put it on speaker.”
I did.
“Mr. Ashby, my husband is here with me. Is it okay if he listens?”
“Certainly. In fact, given the circumstances, I think it would be wise.”
I heard papers moving on his desk.
“Your grandmother, Eleanor Danforth, created an irrevocable family trust approximately fourteen months before her death. You were named the primary beneficiary.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“Your grandmother transferred several assets into the trust. The most significant is the property known as Willow Creek, along with an investment portfolio and several accounts.”
I remembered Willow Creek.
It was the old cottage where my grandmother had spent most of her life. A beautiful property surrounded by several acres of land, with a small orchard behind it and a white wooden fence that needed repainting every summer.
My sister and I had spent countless weekends there as children.
Grandma used to bake apple pies in the kitchen while we played outside.
She had loved that place.
After her death, Mom told us the property had been sold to cover outstanding expenses and that there was nothing left to inherit.
I had believed her.
“How much is the trust worth?” Fred asked.
Mr. Ashby paused.
“Based on the most recent valuation, approximately $2.8 million.”
The coffee cup slipped slightly in my hand.
Fred reached over and took it before it fell.
“Two point eight million?” I repeated.
“Approximately. The figure includes the property and investment assets. The exact value will depend on the final accounting.”
I stared at the wall.
My grandmother had left me nearly three million dollars?
And nobody had told me?
“Mr. Ashby, why would my mother tell us the property was sold?”
“I cannot speculate about what your mother told you. However, I can tell you that Willow Creek was never sold. The property remains in the trust.”
I felt something cold move through my chest.
“Who has been managing it?”
“Your mother was appointed temporary administrative representative during the initial transition period. Your sister was also given limited access to certain property records because she assisted with your grandmother’s affairs.”
I turned toward Fred.
He was already looking at me.
“Limited access?” I asked.
“Yes. Neither of them was given authority to change the beneficiary designation or transfer the principal assets. Those decisions remain governed by the trust document.”
I closed my eyes.
Suddenly, Michaela’s message made more sense.
She wasn’t simply trying to keep me away from a person named Ashby.
She was trying to keep me away from the man who controlled the documents that could expose what had happened to my grandmother’s estate.
“Mr. Ashby, can I ask why you haven’t been able to reach me?”
“Your mother contacted our office in August and informed us that you were unavailable and had no interest in participating in the trust administration.”
I felt my jaw tighten.
“That’s a lie.”
“I suspected there might be a misunderstanding.”
“Did she tell you I had refused the inheritance?”
“She used the phrase ‘voluntarily declined further involvement.’”
I laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I suddenly understood how much of my life had been managed through conversations I hadn’t even known were happening.
“Mr. Ashby, I never refused anything. I didn’t even know there was a trust.”
“That’s why I’d like you to come in as soon as possible.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning, if you can.”
“I’ll be there.”
Before ending the call, he added something that made my stomach tighten again.
“Mrs. Danforth, there is another matter. Your grandmother requested that a sealed personal letter be delivered to you during our first private meeting. She specifically instructed us not to release it through any other family member.”
I stared at the phone.
“A letter?”
“Yes. And given the recent difficulties surrounding your contact information, I think you’ll understand why I consider that instruction important.”
After the call ended, Fred sat across from me.
Neither of us spoke for almost a minute.
Then he asked the question I had been avoiding.
“Christy, do you think your mother and Michaela know how much money is involved?”
I looked at the screenshots still open on my laptop.
Mom: Did she get the blue plate?
Michaela: Yes. She has no idea. We just need to make sure she doesn’t get to Ashby’s before Friday.
I read the words again.
“I think they know.”
Fred rubbed his forehead.
“Then we need to be careful.”
“I know.”
“Not just careful about what you eat. Careful about everything.”
He reached across the table and held my hand.
“Christy, whatever this is, we are not going to handle it by ourselves. We’re going to document everything, involve the proper authorities, and make sure you’re protected.”
I nodded.
But there was something else I wanted to know.
Something that had been bothering me since the baby shower.
“Fred?”
“Yes?”
“How did you know about the tart?”
He looked down at the table.
“I need to tell you something.”
I waited.
“While I was fixing the speaker, I noticed Michaela had left her family iPad open. A notification appeared. At first, I wasn’t paying attention. Then I saw your name.”
“What did it say?”
He hesitated.
“Your mother wrote, ‘Make sure she eats the first piece. We cannot have another delay.’”
I felt my stomach turn.
“And Michaela?”
“She replied, ‘I know. I have the pens. She won’t be able to make a scene this time.’”
I covered my mouth.
Fred continued.
“I took screenshots. Then I opened the earlier messages because I wanted to understand what they were talking about. That’s when I saw the conversation about the walnuts and Ashby.”
I looked at him.
“Why didn’t you tell me immediately?”
“I wanted to make sure I had the evidence before confronting anyone. I was afraid that if they noticed me reading the messages, they would delete everything.”
He reached for my hand again.
“I didn’t want to frighten you until I knew what was happening.”
I understood.
But I also knew that we had crossed into something far more serious than a family disagreement.
And tomorrow, I was going to find out exactly why.
The following morning, Fred drove me to Gregory Ashby’s office.
It was located in an old brick building with tall windows and a brass plaque beside the entrance.
The receptionist greeted us and asked us to wait.
A few minutes later, Gregory Ashby came out personally.
He was in his early sixties, with silver hair, thin glasses, and the kind of expression that suggested he had spent decades listening to people explain things they wished were not true.
“Mrs. Danforth.”
He shook my hand.
“Thank you for coming.”
He looked at Fred.
“And you must be Mr. Danforth.”
“Yes.”
“Please, come in.”
His office smelled faintly of old books and coffee.
A large wooden desk stood near the window. Behind it were shelves filled with legal volumes, filing boxes, and framed photographs.
One photograph caught my attention.
My grandmother was standing beside Gregory outside Willow Creek.
She was smiling.
I stopped walking.
“That’s Grandma.”
Gregory followed my gaze.
“Yes. Eleanor was a remarkable woman.”
He smiled faintly.
“She was also very particular about how things were handled.”
I sat down.
“Mr. Ashby, I want to understand everything.”
“I expected that.”
He opened a thick file.
“Before we discuss the financial records, I want to explain the structure of the trust.”
He placed several documents in front of me.
The first contained my full name.
The second listed the property.
The third showed a summary of the investment accounts.
I looked at the numbers.
$1,450,000 in property valuation.
$860,000 in investment holdings.
$310,000 in savings and certificates of deposit.
The remaining value consisted of other assets and accumulated income.
I stared at the pages.
It was real.
My grandmother had left me something substantial.
But the next document was what caught my attention.
It was a record of administrative activity.
Several transactions were highlighted.
“What are these?” I asked.
Gregory folded his hands.
“Those are transactions we identified during our preliminary review.”
I leaned closer.
The first was a payment of $18,500.
The second was $32,000.
The third was $47,000.
There were several more.
All made from accounts associated with the trust.
“Who received this money?”
Gregory turned the page.
I recognized one name immediately.
Michaela Danforth.
My sister.
I felt my face go cold.
“Why was my sister receiving money from Grandma’s trust?”
“According to the descriptions submitted with the transactions, these payments were for property maintenance, legal expenses, and emergency preservation costs.”
