‘But that’s great!’ Dan paused. ‘Isn’t it? Or does it mean Mum’s homeless?’
‘They refused to send us a copy of the actual trust deed itself because we’re not the trustees. Although, as no one seems to know who they are, goodness knows where that leaves the trust. But they have told us the contents which is that Ngaire was granted the right to live in the cottage for her lifetime — or eighty years, whichever was longer.’
Dan frowned. ‘Eighty years puts us right about… now. But do they know Ngaire has passed away?’
Augi shrugged. ‘I haven’t told them. And I don’t intend to. I’d rather be one step ahead and figure out who owns the house before they start thinking of evicting Kate.’
Dan went cold. He couldn’t bear to think of this happening. ‘So what happens after the eighty years?’
She scanned the email. ‘After that, the property reverts to John Kowalski’s closest living relative.’
Dan leaned closer. ‘Closest living relative,’ he repeated. ‘Not a named beneficiary?’
‘No.’ Augi shook her head. ‘No names at all. Just that. Whoever is closest in descent to him gets to inherit the house.’
Dan was quiet for a moment, frowning as he thought, turning to the shadowy garden. He turned back to her, not finding the answer in the lilies and mossy fence which bordered the next house.
He turned to her. ‘But that’s really unusual, surely? I mean why didn’t he name them — his children, or if he didn’t have any, his siblings’ children? It sounds like he didn’t know their names. Or, if he does, he doesn’t want the trustees to know who they were. Maybe in case they contested it?’
‘There is one other thing the lawyers said. That clause about “closest living relative” replaced an earlier version where he named a man who I think must be his brother.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes — but much later. The trust was amended in 1967 to reflect that change.’
‘That doesn’t make sense,’ he said slowly. ‘Ngaire never saw Johnnie again after the war. You said you couldn’t find anything to suggest he’d been back to New Zealand post-war. No one has.’
‘I know,’ Augi said. ‘Which means the amendment wasn’t about reopening anything with her.’
Dan stared at the page, his thoughts racing. ‘So why change it then?’
‘That’s the question,’ Augi said quietly. ‘Why revisit a trust twenty-one years later? Why not just let it stand as it was?’
Dan shook his head. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’
‘It suggests uncertainty. Like Johnnie didn’t know who that person was.’
‘That’s weird.’
‘It is weird. Which is why I contacted you before I spoke to Kate. I wasn’t sure…’ She winced. ‘But I feel uncomfortable at the same time.’
‘No,’ said Dan, leaning forward, resting his arms on his legs, wanting to reassure her. ‘You did the right thing. Lucy reckons Mum seems to be a lot more settled of late, since Jen’s life has sorted itself out.’
‘And you’re home.’
He grunted dismissively. ‘I’ve probably made her worse. Made her worry.’
He stilled as he felt Augi’s hand on his. ‘No. I’m sure you wouldn’t have done that. She’s happy you’re home, that much is clear.’
Dan couldn’t think of a thing to say, except stare at her. Slowly he moved his other hand and placed it on hers. She didn’t pull away.
‘And I’m happy I’m home, in a way I never imagined.’
Only then did she slip her hand away, with an embarrassed nod. He hoped she understood that she was part of the reason he was happy. The blush of pink which flooded her cheeks suggested she probably did. He sat back. It seemed you didn’t have to spell everything out. If someone understood you, they understood you.
‘Anyway,’ said Augi, in a too-bright voice, ‘all we have to do now is find the unnamed person who is closest to Johnnie Kowalski of Michigan.’
‘Otherwise Mum will imagine the worst. That the cottage could be taken away. Any clues?’
