“I can tell. Everything you’ve loaded to the firm’s drive looks perfect. I knew you’d be able to sort things quickly and power through the due diligence.” He sounded approving. And grateful. Her mood soared.
“You left a message indicating you had a question.”
“Yes.” She shuffled through the file folders she’d placed on Trace’s desk until she found the one she sought. “It’s about the ownership of the airfield. I can see that Trace Shanahan owns fifty percent of Captivity Air and Freight, by virtue of a trust he’s fully vested in. I also see that Bridget Shanahan holds fifty percent by virtue of a trust that doesn’t fully vest until the earlier of the day she graduates from an accredited university with a bachelor’s degree, or upon her thirtieth birthday.”
“That’s correct,” Chuck confirmed. “Trace has full control of his half and has for several years—as of the date he graduated from UAA with a degree in business. Of course, he’s thirty at this point, so even without the degree, he would have vested by now. Bridget, on the other hand, hasn’t met either condition of vesting yet.”
“So, she can’t make any disposition of her interest?”
“Precisely. Skyline understands this, by the way. She can neither approve nor decline Skyline’s purchase of Trace’s interest, but her interest remains in her trust until one of the vesting criteria is met.”
“Who’s her trustee?”
Chuck sighed. “You don’t want to know.”
“Oh. Sorry. And she doesn’t know anything about Trace’s plan to sell his interest yet?”
“No. It’s still a potential plan right now, but nothing is happening to her half. As the trustee of her trust, I have nothing to tell her. Everything is status quo. As far as Trace’s plans for his half, as my client, I owe him a duty of confidentiality. But if it eases your mind, Trace knows Bridget, and Bridget knows Trace. She might be surprised to learn he intends to sell his share, but she won’t wish to stand in the way of him doing something he wants to do. And there are protections built into this deal for her—”
“I’ll say. Two million of them, at a minimum, if she decides to sell her interest once it vests.”
“Skyline has to pay her fifty percent of the then-current fair market value of the airfield, or the two million, whichever is greater. Or she can sell her half to another party, if she feels she can do better via a different buyer. It’s an exceedingly good deal for her. Is this what worried you? That Trace wishes to sell his interest without previewing his intentions to Bridget.”
“No, actually. Although I think that’s going to be awkward, I had a more nuts-and-bolts question.” She opened another file and took out a sheet of paper. “I found an old statement for Trace’s trust—the files are kinda scary—but anyway, according to that statement, he held an unvested thirty-three and one-third ownership interest in the airfield. Skyline hasn’t asked for any documentation other than what supports the current ownership distribution, but I’d like to know how that third became half, just in case they ask.”
“At the time Trace’s parents retired, they created three trusts, each containing an approximate one-third ownership. The third trust dissolved, per its terms, and the shares went fifty percent to Trace—directly to Trace, by then—and fifty percent to Bridget’s trust.”
“Oh.” For some reason her stomach tightened.
“Problem?”
“No. It’s just…that doesn’t quite line up with what Trace told me. He indicated his parents signed over their interest in full when they retired. Now I’m learning they kept a third in trust until a later time. Granted our discussion was high-level, and strictly in the context of confirming that his parents didn’t need to be signatories to the purchase agreement.”
“Well, at the end of the day, that’s all true. He streamlined it a little, but it gets you to the same place.”
“Right.” She tossed the statement into the file and pushed it back into the stack where she’d found it. “You’re right. It just caught my eye, that’s all.”
“You have an eye for detail. It’s one of the many assets the firm values in you.”
The compliment went a long way to easing her nerves—and that’s just what they were, nerves. She could see that now. Hyper-organized by nature, she hated to find any stray thread hanging from the fabric of a deal. But this one she could legitimately let go. “Thank you, Chuck.”
“Thank you, Izzy. Anything else I can help with?”
Her phone signaled an incoming call. A quick look confirmed this time it was Trace. “Nope. I’m good. That’s Trace on the other line, so…”
“Take care. Talk soon.” Chuck, God bless him, knew how to get out of the way.
She hit the button to end and accept. “Hi.”
“Hey.”
The one word greeting, delivered in Trace’s deep baritone, had the tight bud in her stomach loosening to give way to a whole butterfly garden’s worth of blooms. “I’ve been invited to a slumber party.”
His laugh launched another batch of butterflies. “You have a standing invitation to a slumber party. Just tell me where and when, and I’ll make all the necessary arrangements.”
“Not with you, my dear client. Bridget told me you’re staying in Anchorage tonight and invited me out to the house for dinner and drinks with her and Lilah. She suggested I pack a bag and spend the night, so I don’t have to drive back to the inn. I’m probably not going to do that, but I won’t do dinner and drinks either, if it makes you uncomfortable for any reason. I’ll come up with an excuse and skip it.”
“Not at all. Go. Enjoy yourself. Think of me, alone and lonely here in Anchorage, while you girls are watching a Magic Mike double header and drinking every time some dude takes his pants off…or whatever you do at a slumber party.”
“Sounds like you have a pretty good idea.”
He laughed. “I’ve had a sister most of my life. Are you comfortable driving the Yukon?”
“Sure. I drive an SUV at home, so the size won’t throw me, the roads are clear, and I know the way from the airfield to the inn pretty well by now.”
“Awesome. There’s a spare key in my desk drawer. Help yourself.”
She opened the narrow drawer front and center under the desktop and found the key. “Got it. Enjoy your lonely night in Anchorage.”
“I won’t, but it’s better than doing two round trips in less than twenty-four hours. Hey, Izzy?”
“What?” She could see her stupid smile reflected in the screen of her laptop.