…registered under your aunt’s name. And the woman who appeared as ‘your mother’ was wearing a wig and showing a fake ID.”
My mother, Ruth, had died eleven years earlier. She’d left the cottage to me in her will. My uncle, Frank, had handled her estate. He’d told me the cottage was sold to cover her hospital bills. He’d never actually sold it. He’d rented it out for ten years, then renovated it, and was now trying to sell it as if my dead mother were alive and signing it over to him.
The notary was my aunt Joyce’s licensed business. The “mother” in the notary’s records was Joyce’s sister, in disguise.
I hired a probate lawyer. She found my mother’s original will in the county court archive. It had been filed but never executed. Frank, as executor, had simply never transferred the cottage to me.
The judge removed Frank as executor, voided the fake transfer and ordered the property placed in my name. Frank was ordered to repay ten years of rental income. Joyce lost her notary license. Both were charged with fraud.
The renovation, I’ll admit, was beautiful. Frank had added a sunroom and a new porch.
I spend every summer there now, just like I did as a child. My daughter finished her school project about our family history. Her final paragraph said: “My great-grandmother built the cottage. My grandmother loved it. My mom got it back.”
