“May I ask who’s calling?”
“Her father.”
Dolores covered the phone and came to my office.
“Nancy, your dad’s on line two.”
“Tell him I’m in a meeting.”
She went back.
“She’s in a meeting right now. When would be a good time to catch her?”
“She’s usually here nine to five, but I’d recommend calling ahead.”
“I’ll just… I’ll stop by.”
Dolores told me later he looked terrified, sweating, clutching a folder. I didn’t know he was coming. Monday, December 15th, 2025, 2:47 in the afternoon, Dolores’s voice came through my intercom.
“Nancy, your father is here to see you.”
I froze. My hand stopped mid-keystroke. My father, here at my office.
“Tell him I’m in a meeting.”
Pause.
“He says it’s urgent. About family business.”
I closed my laptop, walked downstairs. He was standing in the lobby, gray hair thinner than I remembered, wearing his good khakis and a polo shirt, the outfit he wore to Madison’s events. He was holding a brown accordion folder, thick, bulging with papers. His hands were shaking.
“Dad.”
“Nancy, thanks for seeing me.”
“I didn’t know I had a choice.”
I gestured to the small conference room, glass walls.
“In here.”
He followed me. The folder seemed heavier in his hands than it should be. I didn’t sit. He did.
“I know you’re upset about the wedding.”
“Is that what you came here to talk about? The wedding you missed three weeks ago?”
“No. I came to talk about your grandmother’s estate.”
“My grandmother died when I was 13, in 2003. Why are you talking about her estate now?”
“Your great-aunt Helen passed away in October.”
“I know. You didn’t tell me. I saw it in the newspaper.”
He flinched.
“We were going to tell you. Things have been complicated.”
“You flew to Scottsdale. That wasn’t complicated.”
“Nancy, please.”
He opened the folder.
“Helen left some money, $45,000 to be split between you and Madison.”
“Okay.”
“But the estate attorney… he’s asking questions about another trust from 1999.”
“What trust?”
He slid a letter across the table. Crawford and Associates letterhead. Dated December 2nd. Subject: Re Estate of Helen Mitchell, accounting request. I read it. The attorney was requesting a full accounting of Rose Mitchell’s 1999 UTMA custodial trust for beneficiary Nancy Austin. I didn’t know my grandmother left me a trust. My father didn’t meet my eyes. That’s when I knew. He slid another set of papers across the table. Uniform Transfers to Minors Act, State of Iowa, custodial education account, established June 14th, 1999. Beneficiary: Nancy Marie Austin. DOB: August 12th, 1990. Initial deposit: $150,000. Custodians: Vernon James Austin, Carol Anne Austin. I read it twice. The words didn’t make sense. $150,000.
“Your grandmother wanted you to have money for college.”
