Chapter 13 - DANIEL SELLS THE WORKSHOP
The workshop sale was Daniel's idea.
Ava argued against it.
That surprised him.
“You want me to keep the building?”
“I want you to stop making huge decisions because shame feels urgent.”
Daniel stared.
She had gotten better at using his own habits against him.
The workshop property sat on a separate parcel near an industrial strip.
He no longer needed most of it.
A younger cabinetmaker had been leasing half.
The tenant offered to buy.
Fair appraisal.
No family discount.
No fire sale.
Sale price:
$184,000.
After taxes and closing costs, Daniel would net enough to:
Repay the 2018 trust shortfall.
Create a reserve for the title correction.
Cover part of the negotiated trust adjustment without selling the house.
Daniel still hesitated.
“This was my work.”
Ava looked around the shop.
“I know.”
“My father gave me the first table saw in here.”
“I know.”
“You grew up coming here after school.”
“I know.”
Daniel looked at the scarred workbench.
Then smiled faintly.
“You hated sanding.”
“I still hate sanding.”
Good.
He sold it.
Not as punishment.
As a choice.
The buyer kept Daniel's three remaining part-time employees.
That mattered to him.
The residence settlement followed.
Independent trustee.
Thirty-two percent beneficial interest placed into Ava's trust after updated valuation and accounting.
Why thirty-two instead of Rachel's thirty?
Because appreciation, repayments and capital credits produced a negotiated number between competing calculations.
No magical certainty.
A settlement.
Daniel retained sixty-eight percent and occupancy rights.
Ava would receive full control of her trust interest at thirty unless she elected a different arrangement.
The FOR SALE sign came down.
Daniel did not ceremonially burn it.
Karen collected it.
She also invoiced Daniel for photography-preparation and cancellation expenses.
He paid.
Actions had small consequences too.
Then Ava made a choice Daniel disliked.
She moved out.
Not forever.
Into a one-bedroom apartment twelve minutes away.
Daniel stared when she told him.
“You own part of this house now.”
“That's exactly why I need to know whether I come here because I want to.”
“You've lived here for six months.”
“After my lease ended.”
“You could stay.”
“I know.”
She touched the kitchen counter.
“Mom wanted me to have a choice.”
Daniel went still.
That sentence had become impossible for him to argue with.
Ava moved.
She still came every Sunday.
Sometimes.
Not all Sundays.
Daniel hated that at first.
Then learned not to call on Saturday night to confirm.
Claire resigned as trustee.
The corporate trustee took over.
She and Ava began having coffee twice a month.
Not mother-daughter replacement.
Not instant aunt reunion.
Claire told Ava stories about Rachel.
Ava corrected Claire when nostalgia started cleaning Rachel up.
Apparently Rachel once stole Claire's car at nineteen and returned it with an empty gas tank and a parking ticket.
That felt more useful than sainthood.
Then Ava asked Claire:
“Who was Nora Vale?”
Claire looked down at her coffee.
“I don't know.”
“You've never heard Mom mention her?”
“No.”
“Marianne says Mom and Nora were close enough for Nora to witness legal papers.”
“Yes.”
“And the land money came through Marianne's escrow.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think Nora funded it?”
Claire hesitated.
“I think that's possible.”
“Why would she?”
“I don't know.”
Ava stared.
Claire added:
“And I don't know whether the money was hers.”
That mattered.
A client escrow check did not identify beneficial owner.
It could have held funds from:
Nora.
Michael.
A settlement.
A trust.
A third party.
Nobody knew.
Then Marianne Shaw agreed to release one more piece of information.
Not privileged substance.
Administrative history.
The 1997 escrow file had been opened under matter name:
VALE / BENNETT — PRIVATE RESOLUTION
Bennett.
Claire's family surname.
Claire stared at it.
“That makes no sense.”
May you like
It did not.
Not yet.
