Too late.
“You said the trust in the letter was real?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t my attorney know?”
“Because Phoebe isn’t the trustee.”
Every head in the kitchen turned toward the phone.
Phoebe spoke before I could stop her.
“Who is?”
Luca went quiet.
“I thought this was just us.”
“She’s here.”
“Of course she is.”
“Who is the trustee?”
“I don’t know.”
That answer startled me.
“What do you mean?”
“The letter didn’t say.”
“Then how do you know the trust exists?”
“Because I found reference numbers.”
“Where?”
“In the letter.”
“Give them to Phoebe.”
“No.”
My anger returned instantly.
“Why not?”
“Because I already tried to verify them. They lead nowhere.”
“So let someone qualified try.”
“I did.”
“Who?”
“A private banker.”
Phoebe closed her eyes briefly.
I could almost hear her counting to ten.
“What did they say?” I asked.
“That there was a structure created before your father died. The assets weren’t released to you when he died because there was a condition.”
My mouth went dry.
“What condition?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“You read the letter.”
“The letter didn’t explain it clearly.”
“My father didn’t write unclearly.”
“This time he did.”
Evelyn whispered, “What kind of condition?”
Luca heard her.
“Is Evelyn there too?”
“Yes.”
“Great.”
“Answer.”
He exhaled.
“The letter said the trust would become relevant only after the birth of his first grandchild.”
Nobody spoke.
My eyes moved instinctively toward Lily.
She had been born three days ago.
My father had died almost four years earlier.
Phoebe finally said, “That changes things.”
“How?”
“If Luca is telling the truth, the timing matters.”
Luca sounded irritated.
“I am telling the truth.”
Phoebe ignored him.
“Jessi, your father may have created a generation-skipping or descendant-linked structure. There are many legitimate estate-planning reasons.”
“Then why didn’t he tell me?”
“Maybe he intended to.”
The obvious answer entered the room.
He died sooner than expected.
I sat very still.
Dad’s last year had been full of plans that assumed more time.
A fishing trip with Evelyn.
A renovation he never started.
A bottle of wine he said we’d open when he was finished with treatment.
Maybe this was another unfinished thing.
“What does the house have to do with it?” I asked.
Luca hesitated.
“That’s the part I still don’t understand.”
“The appraisal?”
“The letter said the estate property was ‘the marker, not the inheritance.’”
I closed my eyes.
Naomi had remembered something similar.
The house was not the true inheritance.
“What lies beneath the ridge,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“You read that too.”
“Yes.”
Phoebe moved closer.
“Luca, listen carefully. You are going to photograph every page of that letter and send it to Jessica tonight.”
“No.”
“Then tomorrow I will take every lawful step available to recover it.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is a letter addressed to my client.”
“It contains information about me.”
“Then redact your personal information temporarily if necessary. But you do not get to withhold her father’s words from her.”
Luca’s breathing was audible.
Then, unexpectedly, his voice broke.
