Chapter 6 #2
Jennie didn’t think that was quite how the saying went.
No matter, for she found herself relaxing.
With Lisbet’s appearance and the overall look of the office, Jennie had braced herself to meet with a smooth-talking attorney in a black suit and silk tie, with a square jaw that was set firm by the clenching of his teeth.
She could work with Mr. Wellington—Percy. He had to be in his mid-sixties, and the friendliness he exuded was contagious. Still, Jennie was cautious. She had to be. Life had taught her that.
Percy folded his hands in front of him on the table, and his shoulders lifted and fell in a deep breath. “I heard about yesterday.” He clucked his tongue. “Such a shame they discovered Allison that way.”
So it was confirmed to be Allison? Jennie didn’t dare voice the many questions she had concerning the dead woman.
“And to think you found her?” Percy’s rubbed his forehead in disbelief. “It’s been years since . . . well, no one here thought Allison would ever be seen again.”
Jennie smiled politely. It felt rude and intrusive to ask anything. Besides, for a lawyer, Percy was remarkably forthcoming.
He shook his head as he reached for the portfolio and folders, putting them into some semblance of order. “She and Zane Harris were going to be married, but then she just vanished. Shortly after Milo was born.”
Jennie squirmed. Something didn’t feel right here.
“Her parents were old-fashioned that way, wanting the two of them to get married. I don’t think Zane or Allison actually wanted it themselves.
Of course, having a kid together adds a new dynamic and, well .
. .” Percy settled his hands on the pile of documents, meeting Jennie’s eyes.
“A lot of us hoped Allison had simply left town to get away from it all. It was a nicer thought than what actually happened.”
Jennie nodded. What else could she do? She didn’t care to revisit yesterday’s grisly discovery, and she didn’t want to intrude on a stranger’s loss.
But if what Percy said was true, that meant the boy Milo had actually discovered his mother’s remains!
The thought sickened her to the point of nausea.
Jennie swallowed hard and pressed her palm against her midsection.
“Mr. Wellington, I’d like to—”
“Yes. Yes, of course.” Percy smiled, thankfully taking her cue. “The Traeger Estate. Your attorney isn’t joining us?”
“He couldn’t make it.” Jennie managed a smile.
“Well then, let’s get down to business, shall we?” Percy’s eyes widened in question. There was a brief moment of silence, and then Jennie realized the question was not rhetorical.
“Um, yes, please.”
Percy flipped open the portfolio. On the right side, Jennie noticed a legal pad with scribbling taking up most of the page.
To the left were photocopied papers, written in old-fashioned handwriting.
“We have here copies of the original last will and testament of Leopold Traeger.” Percy slid a document across the table for Jennie.
Retrieving it, she right away noted the date at the top of the page: October 9, 1890. “This is one hundred and thirty-five years old.” She couldn’t hide the awe in her voice. Mom would have enjoyed seeing this.
“Yes, it is.” Percy cleared his throat. “Now, keep in mind there’s the rule against perpetuities, and in Wisconsin perpetuities and the suspension of the power of alienation.
Therefore, what was written in Mr. Traeger’s will in 1890 would not technically still apply today because it is, well, over a century old. ”
Percy was making assumptions that Jennie understood the law or anything he’d just said. But if he was saying that the will had expired, she was fine with that. It still didn’t account for why she was here.
“Is there something else I’m unaware of or missing? If the original will and testament no longer applies, then what exactly are we meeting about?”
There was a short pause, and then Percy responded in a clipped manner, “Right.” He riffled through the papers of the portfolio until he found whatever it was he was looking for.
“According to Mr. Leopold Traeger’s will of 1890, the manor house, Traeger Hall, is not to be reopened until there are no Traegers left to argue any rights to the property or until after a century has passed. ”
Jennie waited, but Percy said nothing more.
She felt as if she were pulling teeth. “So, from what I understand, both situations have been met regardless of the fact I’m not required by law to meet them?
” The rural lawyer’s inability to communicate his point was trying her patience.
“Mr. Wellington, I’d like to sell the Traeger Estate.
My father purchased it as an investment, along with many other historic properties.
I’ve no desire to keep any of them.” She wanted to be free of everything her father had been involved in.
I’m sorry, Mom.
The apology passed through her mind uninvited. She knew her mom would have wanted her to hang on to the Traeger properties. To explore them, to see if the rumors associated with the Hall’s history were true or not. Was there really valuable art hidden away in the sealed-up mansion on the hill?
Percy cleared his throat nervously. “Actually, it’s the codicil that is creating the issue.”
“The what?”
“Think of it like a P.S. to your father’s last will and testament.” Percy’s eyes landed squarely on Jennie.
“A P.S.? You’re not my father’s lawyer. How would you know anything about . . . ?” Her words trailed off as she stumbled to a halt.
Percy drew a long breath and released it, as if gathering the strength to dumb down his explanation for her.
“And that is the difficulty of a codicil. They make wills confusing, especially if they’re not kept with the original will.
Not to mention there are legal guidelines that must be considered.
” The man must have noted Jennie’s blank look.
He tried again. “I’ll put it in simple terms. When your father purchased the Traeger Estate, he created—through my office here—a codicil specifically regarding the Traeger properties. ”
Jennie frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. Dad’s other attorneys surely would’ve known about this. All of my father’s assets were willed to my mother, including his properties. And with her death, they’re inherited by me.”
“You’re correct,” said Percy. “His attorneys should have known. But if your father never communicated it, and they never received the codicil to file with the will, then . . . well, I’m not sure what may have happened.
There are other legal questions to consider as well.
We weren’t aware of your father’s death until you arrived in Newton Creek a few days ago.
While it appears that the codicil is valid and binding, the legalities of everything must be sifted through.
I’ll need to confer with your father’s attorneys before asserting the codicil be followed explicitly. ”
“What does this addendum say precisely?” Jennie almost choked on the words. That her father might be able to affect her even now was outlandish.
Percy lifted a manila folder and handed it to her. “A copy is included here. Your father drew up an addendum that says the Traeger Estate and holdings cannot be sold or ownership transferred until after a period of fifty years following the date of his death.”
“Say that again?” Jennie fought back tears. Her father was always close by, lingering, even though he’d died—her disgusting and manipulative and narcissistic father.
“You can’t dispose of Traeger Hall or your ownership of the place.”
“I can’t?” she said in a high-pitched voice.
“No. At least not the way I understood the codicil to mean when we drew it up years ago. Again, I must confer with your attorney.”
“But it’s my property,” Jennie argued.
Percy nodded, a wisp of hair falling over his forehead.
“Yes, the Traeger properties are yours through inheritance via your father’s will.
But if it turns out the codicil is legally binding, then you can either leave Traeger Hall and the other properties of the estate alone or by all means fulfill the deepest desire of many from the last century and open the place up to see what’s inside. ”
“That’s ridiculous!” Jennie sagged in her chair, unable to hide the tears welling in her eyes. Tears of exasperation. “Why would my father even care?”
Percy shrugged. “We don’t question the why; we merely draw up the papers.”
“And you drafted the addendum for my father?” Jennie asked.
Percy shook his head. “No. My father did that. And now that you’re here, it’s my duty to bring this to your attention. Your lawyer and I must now look at the legalities involved regarding the will and codicil to determine whether it is indeed valid.”
Jennie skimmed the photocopied will, searching for the words that would pop off the page to verify Percy’s claim. “I-I don’t know what to say.”
He continued, “I understand it’s confusing. But as I said, you can still make use of the place.” Percy tapped the copy of Leopold Traeger’s ancient will. “This has no bearing on the matter, despite what the locals may tell you.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Percy chuckled. “Well, just because the Traeger will is no longer in effect, that doesn’t mean the impact of its contents expire.
The influence Leopold Traeger had on this area was monumental during his time, and the lore and speculation surrounding his death and Traeger Hall have always been of interest to the citizens of Newton Creek.
The manor has been an important landmark for over a century.
It’s the primary reason people travel through here. ”
“You’re saying Traeger Hall is a tourist attraction because of the cold-case murder associated with it and the fact it’s been sealed shut for a century?” Jennie stared at Percy, incredulous.