Chapter 9
Nine
Ali
A few days later, Ali and Faye sat down in front of Louie Michalak of Michalak, Perne, and Janco.
The law firm handled just about every UAW member in Toledo. A few days ago, they’d thought this was an open and shut estate to settle. Well, it was all back open again, thanks to Ali’s attic discoveries.
The offices were the opposite of posh. In fact, you could still faintly smell cigarette smoke that had to be embedded into the fibers of the orange couch in Louie’s office. The place was as old school as it got. Fake wood paneling, dusty books lining the walls, and carpets that were remnants of the swinging '70s took you back in time. Ali imagined this place had looked new about a decade before she was born.
But it was just this frozen-in-time Goodfellas vibe that kept clients like Bruce comfortable. Toledo’s seven thousand Jeep employees meant there was always work to be done at Michalak, Perne, and Janco. If you had an issue, someone at the plant would tell you about this firm. It was located on Lagrange Street, an easy drive for anyone who worked at the now-demolished old Jeep plant. Ali realized she had never actually seen Janco but assumed he was rattling around here somewhere.
Ali and Faye laid out all the paperwork they’d found and provided pictures of the jewelry and couture clothing.
“I did some research, and my friend is a jewelry appraiser, and well, we’re looking at about ten thousand dollars, give or take, worth of jewelry,” Ali told the attorney, who’d been verifying the documents they’d found.
“And I handled some initial research on the dresses,” Faye added. “That’s at least five grand, maybe ten, of high fashion rags Bruce was hiding in the garage attic.”
These ballpark numbers were staggering to Ali. Ten to twenty thousand dollars of vintage, high-quality pieces languishing in the garage attic. It was bizarre and didn’t seem real.
“Probably a miracle they weren’t full of moth holes,” remarked Louie.
“I don’t know. Dad kept a pretty tight ship,” Ali replied.
“Okay, so do we need to do anything about amending the value of the estate or something?” Faye said, cutting to the chase.
Ali needed that. Normally, she was so efficient. She was usually the one shooting in to get it done. But these boxes, these secrets her dad kept, along with everything else, had her unmoored.
“No. If the three of you agree to sell them, just split the proceeds three ways, it’s all the same as the house and pension and all that,” Louie explained. “It’s this…this is the thing that’s a bit of a mess.” Louie pointed a gnarled finger at the paperwork.
“How so?” Faye asked.
“This is legitimately the title of six structures and a condo or some such multi-room unit in Haven Beach, Florida in Mangrove County. I can’t find any recent sales or documentation on it. No transfers on it.”
“So, who owns this? Dad?” Ali asked. But she knew her father’s name was nowhere on any of the documents. She didn’t have an ounce of legal training, but she could read. She just hadn’t believed what she read.
“Our research indicates that no, your dad didn’t own it. You three girls own it. It’s in your names and Blair’s. You’ve always owned it—or have since the early ‘80s.”
Ali took a deep breath.
“I also researched the addresses,” Louie continued. “They are legit, and this appears to be a good location. Which could be very nice.”
“Or it’s like that thing where someone bought land in the Everglades scam.” Ali felt that was a more likely scenario.
“No, it’s not the Everglades. It is beachfront on the Gulf, but any more than that, I can’t tell you. There’s a management company listed as the contact for these addresses, but no one has returned my calls.”
“What’s your advice on this, Louie?” Ali asked.
“My advice? Go down there and see what you’ve got. The number isn’t working, like I said. And the only way to know what it actually is would be to get eyes on it.”
“We can sell it, though, right?” Faye asked. Ali saw a little light in her sister’s eyes. She was sure Faye was mentally adding wings to her backyard greenhouse plan with this money.
“Again, you’d all have to agree to sell. It’s a shared property, or one would have to buy out the other two kind of thing,” Louie explained.
“Do we have to do anything?” Ali asked.
“Well, technically, yes, you would owe taxes. I haven’t been able to figure out how this hasn’t been an issue yet, but anyway, now that you know…”
“It’s our mess to clean up, whatever it is,” Ali finished for him.
“Yes. If you want me to continue to handle it, I can make some calls to an attorney in Jacksonville. That’s the closest referral I have.”
Ali knew then, out of the blue, exactly what she was going to do. This was her next project. She was going to close out her father’s—or her mother’s—estate. As the oldest sister, she saw it as her duty.
“No, we’ll handle it, Louie. Thank you for verifying all this.”
Ali stood up. Faye followed suit. Old Louie Michalak had to use the desk to assist in the effort of standing up.
“Let me know if you need me to do anything else. Tell Tami Lou out front, and she’s got my schedule if you have any more questions. Otherwise, the check for the house, well, divide by three, and you’re all set.”
“Thanks.”
“And again, sorry for your loss. Bruce was good people, one of my first clients right after your mom passed.”
All this reminded Ali that she probably needed someone in the firm to deal with her separation from Ted. It had receded to the back burner as this little kettle boiled.
“Thanks, Louie.”
Tami Lou was on the phone as they walked through the reception area, but she waved goodbye to them. Ali would have to give her a call.
The sisters made their way out to the parking lot. Faye looped her arm through Ali’s. It was freezing today and walking across the law office parking lot felt like crossing a frozen tundra. The wind was kicking up, and the fine powdery snow over the icy parking lot made each step treacherous. They helped each other toward Ali’s Jeep.
“Penguin it,” Ali said. And they both did their best imitation of penguins as they got to the car without slipping. Barely.
Ali got in and started the engine.
“You’d think the lawyers would salt better out here, jeez,” Faye groaned.
“Yeah.” The cold had permeated into Ali’s bones in the brief trek from office to Jeep. She punched the heat to maximum as the Jeep idled.
“Well, that was, uh, interesting,” Faye said.
“Yeah, it was.” Ali was making mental plans on how to get the information they needed about the Florida property.
“Can I run something by you, Ali?”
“Of course.” Ali put her fingers up to her face and huffed her warm breath into them to try to break the brittle chill.
“I don’t want to sell Mom’s stuff, not yet anyway.”
Ali knew what she meant; it was a connection. Something their long-dead mother owned, touched, and loved. And they’d only just found it. “I don’t want to either.” Ali was relieved that Faye felt the same. This wasn’t about the money at all.
“I know Blair probably needs the cash,” Faye said. “I could probably use it too, but with the house sale, I have a little cushion, and I just?—”
Ali stopped her and put a hand on Faye’s. “I get it. We have a little window into Mom, and we don’t want to close it.”
“Right.”
“Okay, but you heard Louie, we all need to decide. And if say, Blair says, no, let’s get liquid, we can figure something out. We for sure can hang on to the jewelry and dresses for a little while. I have no idea about the property. But yeah, I want to hang on to, to?—"
“To Mom,” Faye said.
“Yes.”
“Okay. What about the swamp land in Florida situation?”
“I don’t know. That’s a tougher nut. Seems very, uh, tangled up. But I’m thinking something about that, too. Let me think a little more. We can always have Louie call his guy in Jacksonville if we can’t handle this ourselves.”
“Yeah, okay. Well, I need to get to work. Can you drive me home?”
“Yep, call Blair, put her on speaker. We’ll get her up to speed.”