But I knew it would not matter. If they wanted Mom declared incompetent, they would find a way to make it happen.
“Jason, I need you to stay close to Mom for the rest of the night. Don’t let her eat or drink anything unless you see exactly where it came from.”
His face went serious.
“You think they’ll try something here?”
“I think they’re running out of options.”
Across the room, Linda was walking toward Mom’s table with what looked like a small gift bag. She was smiling, but there was something forced about it now, something desperate.
“Incoming,” I murmured.
We moved quickly to intercept her, arriving at Mom’s table just as Linda set down the bag.
“Mom, I almost forgot. I brought you a little something extra for your special day.”
“Oh, Linda, you’ve done so much already,” Mom protested, but she was already reaching for the bag. “What is it?”
“What is it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice light.
“Just some of those herbal teas she loves. Remember, Mom, you mentioned your sleeping problems, and I found this wonderful chamomile blend that’s supposed to help.”
Herbal tea.
The perfect delivery method for whatever drug they planned to use. Natural, innocent, something Mom would drink willingly.
“How thoughtful,” I said, reaching for the bag. “May I see?”
Linda’s hand shot out to stop me.
“Actually, they’re specially wrapped. I don’t want to ruin the presentation.”
“I’d love to see what kind you got her. I’ve been having trouble sleeping too.”
For a moment, we had a polite tug-of-war over the gift bag, both of us smiling while our eyes locked in silent battle. Mom watched this strange display with growing confusion.
“Girls, what’s gotten into you?” she asked.
“Nothing, Mom,” Linda said, releasing the bag.
I opened it and found three boxes of tea, all with the seals intact, all looking completely innocent. But I noticed Linda’s hands were shaking slightly as I examined them.
“These look lovely,” I said, handing the bag to Jason. “Why don’t you put these in the car for Grandma? We’ll make sure she gets them home safely.”
Jason understood immediately.
“Good idea. I’ll take them out right now.”
“That’s not necessary,” Linda started.
But Jason was already walking away with the tea.
“Such a helpful boy,” Mom said proudly.
Linda’s smile was starting to crack around the edges.
“Yes. Very helpful.”
Dr. Peterson approached our table, his professional demeanor intact, but his eyes darting nervously between Linda and me.
“Mrs. Wilson,” he said to Mom, “I was hoping to chat with you for a few minutes. Just a quick check-in about how you’re feeling.”
“Oh, I’m feeling wonderful, Doctor. This has been such a perfect day.”
“That’s excellent to hear, but sometimes these big events can be overwhelming for people our age. I’d like to ask you a few questions to make sure you’re not overtaxing yourself.”
Our age.
Mom was eighty-five. Dr. Peterson looked to be in his sixties. But the implication was clear.
You’re old. You’re fragile. You can’t handle excitement.
“What kind of questions?” I asked.
Dr. Peterson glanced at Linda, who gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“Just standard cognitive assessments. Memory, orientation, that sort of thing.”
“Nothing to worry about here.”
I gestured around the crowded room.
“Wouldn’t your office be more appropriate for medical assessments?”
