Chapter 8 - The Price of Their ChildhoodGrace had never thought of the south meadow as valuable real estate.
To her, it was the place where her father had taught her to ride a bicycle.
It was the hill where Oliver had flown his first kite.
It was where their mother, Leah, had once planted a row of white flowering trees.
Money had never entered those memories.
Now a single number threatened to change all of them.
$1,850,000.
Elena arranged a meeting with the licensed appraiser who had evaluated the Mercer property before Daniel's death.
His name was Samuel Bennett.
He was a reserved man in his sixties who arrived carrying a thick binder.
"Mr. Mercer commissioned my firm in June of last year," he explained. "We inspected the entire property and provided separate estimates for the residence and the surrounding parcels."
Elena placed Lucia's photographs on the table.
"Have you seen this valuation?"
Samuel studied them.
His eyebrows drew together.
"Where did you get this?"
"It was photographed in the trustee's office."
He examined the page more closely.
"This report number resembles one of ours."
Grace sat forward.
"So it's real?"
"Not necessarily."
Samuel turned to a different section of the photograph.
"The valuation date is wrong. And this isn't the final figure my firm issued."
Elena remained calm.
"What was the final estimate?"
"Approximately six point four million dollars for the meadow parcel."
Grace stared at him.
"Six point four?"
"Yes."
"How could the other report say one point eight?"
Samuel closed his binder.
"I can't determine that from a photograph. A different appraisal might reasonably reach a different conclusion under different assumptions. But if this document is being presented as my firm's report, I have concerns."
He pointed to the signature block.
"That isn't my signature."
Grace felt her skin turn cold.
Elena asked whether he would provide a written statement confirming the authentic report and the discrepancies.
Samuel agreed.
"With the original documents, I can be more precise."
After the meeting, Grace sat in Elena's car, staring through the windshield.
"Someone changed it."
"Someone may have altered or misrepresented a valuation," Elena replied. "We're going to establish that through the records."
Grace turned toward her.
"Why do you always say 'may'?"
"Because if we accuse the wrong person without proof, the case gets weaker."
"But Oliver saw them!"
"I believe Oliver saw something important. The documents still need independent verification."
Grace looked away.
She knew Elena was right.
That didn't make patience any easier.
At Helen's house, Oliver was drawing at the kitchen table.
Grace recognized the picture immediately.
The meadow.
A blue sky.
Two stick figures holding hands.
One was tall, with long brown hair.
The other was small, wearing green suspenders.
Above them, Oliver had drawn their father standing beside a tree.
Grace sat next to him.
"That's beautiful."
Oliver smiled faintly.
"It's where Daddy taught me to ride."
"I remember."
He pointed to the tall figure.
"That's you."
Grace laughed softly.
"I figured."
Then he became serious.
"Are they going to put houses there?"
She hesitated.
"We're trying to stop anyone from making decisions they shouldn't."
Oliver lowered his pencil.
"Vivian said nobody cares about grass."
Grace looked at his picture.
"Some people care about what the grass is worth."
"What does that mean?"
"It means they think about the money they could make from it."
He considered that.
"Do they know Daddy's buried trees are there?"
Grace's breath caught.
Her father hadn't been buried in the meadow.
But after Leah died, Daniel had planted young trees there in her memory.
Oliver had always called them Daddy's buried trees because he had watched his father press their roots into the ground.
"No," she said. "I don't think they do."
Oliver pushed the drawing toward her.
"Then show them."
That evening, Elena called with news.
She had obtained the publicly recorded deed information and the legal description of the property.
The south meadow was held in the Mercer Family Trust.
A transfer would require the trustee to act within the trust's terms and fiduciary obligations.
And there was another concern.
A document attached to a proposed transaction described the meadow as surplus land no longer needed for family use.
Grace nearly shouted.
"That's a lie!"
Elena let her finish.
"The trust doesn't prohibit every possible sale," she explained. "But it requires a proper purpose and independent valuation. The children’s interests cannot simply be ignored."
"Can we stop it?"
"We're preparing an application for temporary relief."
Grace looked at Oliver's drawing beside the telephone.
For the first time, she understood why her father had written such careful instructions.
He hadn't expected a magical document to protect his children.
He had tried to create rules that selfish adults couldn't easily ignore.
Then Elena said something that made Grace sit upright.
"I've also requested information about the prospective buyer. The name on the preliminary paperwork isn't Raymond Vale."
Grace frowned.
"Then who is it?"
"A company called Crestline Land Holdings."
"Who's behind it?"
"We don't know yet."
Grace looked toward the staircase.
Oliver was laughing quietly at something Helen had said.
The sound felt almost unfamiliar.
Elena continued.
"But the company was formed shortly after your father's death."
Grace closed her eyes.
The land had been part of her family for three generations.
May you like
The buyer had existed for only a few months.
And someone had been desperate to finish the sale before Grace turned eighteen.
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