Struggling with what? I wanted to ask. But I bit my tongue and nodded like I agreed.
“Well,” Linda continued, “Paul and I were thinking we’d drive her home after this. Save you the trip.”
There it was. The setup.
They wanted to get Mom alone.
“That’s sweet of you,” I said, “but Jason and I were planning to take her. We want to spend a little more time together.”
Linda’s smile flickered for just a second.
“Oh. Well, that’s fine, I suppose. Though we did promise to help her sort through some paperwork tonight. You know how she gets confused about her Medicare statements.”
Medicare statements. Right.
More papers for Mom to sign while she was tired, trusting, and confused.
“Maybe tomorrow would be better,” I suggested. “She’ll be tired after today.”
“Yes, but the paperwork has deadlines. It really needs to be done tonight.”
We stared at each other across the gap of forty-seven years of sisterhood, and for the first time in my life, I saw Linda clearly. Not as my big sister who had protected me from schoolyard bullies. Not as the successful woman who had always seemed to have her life together. But as a predator who had been planning to destroy our mother’s life for money.
“We’ll figure it out,” I said finally.
Linda nodded, but I could see the wheels turning behind her eyes. She was already planning her next move.
That was when I noticed Paul across the room, deep in conversation with a man I did not recognize. A tall, thin man in a doctor’s coat who kept glancing toward Mom.
Dr. Peterson.
The doctor who was supposed to declare Mom mentally incompetent.
He was there at the party, ready to make his assessment.
Dr. Peterson shook hands with Paul like they were old friends, which maybe they were by now. I watched them from across the room, pretending to listen to Linda chatter about the success of the party while my mind raced through the implications.
“Isn’t it wonderful that Dr. Peterson could make it?” Linda said, following my gaze. “He’s been so concerned about Mom’s confusion lately.”
Confusion?
Mom had just given a ten-minute speech thanking everyone by name, remembered stories from forty years ago, and correctly identified every person in her old photographs. If that was confusion, I wanted to be confused too.
“He seems very attentive,” I said carefully.
“Oh, he is. He’s been wonderful about making house calls to check on her. Very thorough examinations.”
House calls.
Dr. Peterson had been making house calls to evaluate Mom, probably documenting anything that could be used to justify commitment. A forgotten name here. A moment of uncertainty there. Suddenly, you had a pattern of cognitive decline.
Jason appeared at my elbow with a plate of cake.
“Grandma wants to know if you’ll sit with her for a while.”
“Of course.”
I started toward Mom’s table, but Linda caught my arm.
“Actually, Carol, could I speak with you privately for a minute? There’s something I need to discuss.”
Every instinct I had screamed danger. Getting me away from Mom, away from witnesses, away from Jason. But refusing would raise suspicions.
“Sure,” I said. “Jason, why don’t you keep Grandma company?”
Linda led me to a quiet corner near the kitchen, far enough from the main party that we could not be overheard. She looked around to make sure we were alone. Then her entire demeanor changed. The bright party hostess vanished, replaced by someone harder, more calculating.
“Carol, we need to talk about Mom.”
“What about her?”
“Don’t play dumb. I know you’ve noticed the changes.”
“What changes?”
Linda sighed dramatically.
“She’s forgetting things. Leaving the stove on. Getting confused about her medications. Yesterday I found her outside in her nightgown at three in the morning. She said she was waiting for Dad to come home from work.”
Dad had been dead for twelve years.
If Mom had really said that, it could indicate cognitive issues. Or it could be something Linda made up to support her narrative.
“I haven’t noticed any of that,” I said.
“That’s because you don’t see her every day like I do. You visit for an hour on Sundays and think you know how she’s doing.”
