PART 3
Then the wind moved a piece of paper.
A white envelope slid partially out from underneath a dark-colored handbag.
I narrowed my eyes.
My vision wasn’t good enough to read anything from the porch.
But I could see the envelope.
And I could see the small rectangular shape of several other objects beneath it.
My heart began beating faster.
Candice was still standing several feet away, shouting into her phone.
“Julian! Your mother has completely lost it!”
She paced back and forth.
“She changed the locks while we were at church!”
A pause.
Then she lowered her voice.
“No, I’m serious. She won’t let me inside.”
I watched her face.
Her expression changed.
Only for a fraction of a second.
But I saw it.
Fear.
Not anger.
Fear.
And that was when I knew there was something inside that car she desperately didn’t want me to see.
“Candice,” I called.
She stopped talking.
Slowly, she turned toward me.
“Yes?”
“You left your back door open.”
Her face went completely still.
Then she looked toward the car.
The color drained from her cheeks.
“Oh.”
She immediately ended the call.
“Julian?” I asked.
“I’ll call him back.”
“You should probably close your door.”
She walked toward the car.
I watched every step.
She was trying to appear casual.
But she was moving much too quickly.
She reached the open door and grabbed the handle.
Before she could shut it, a gust of wind lifted the envelope.
It fell onto the driveway.
Face up.
Even from where I sat, I could see three words printed in large black letters.
MAGNOLIA GARDENS.
My stomach tightened.
Candice froze.
She stared at the envelope.
Then at me.
Neither of us spoke.
I slowly stood from my porch chair.
My walker clicked against the wooden boards as I moved toward the driveway.
“Candice.”
She snatched the envelope from the ground.
“That’s nothing.”
“Magnolia Gardens?”
“It’s a brochure.”
“You told Heather it was a temporary physical therapy facility.”
“It is.”
I looked directly at her.
“And you said you had already put down a deposit for a room for me.”
Her mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
I felt something inside me change.
For months, I had been afraid.
Afraid of confrontation.
Afraid of losing my son.
Afraid of what would happen if I finally stopped pretending everything was fine.
But standing there, looking at that envelope, I realized something.
The fear was beginning to leave.
Because fear depended on uncertainty.
And Candice had just handed me another piece of the truth.
“Open the back door,” I said.
“No.”
Her answer came instantly.
I stared at her.
“What?”
“I said no.”
“You have no authority to tell me what I can inspect on my own property.”
“It’s my car.”
“I didn’t ask about your car.”
I pointed toward the driveway.
“I asked you to show me what you’re carrying into my house.”
Candice laughed.
It wasn’t her usual pleasant laugh.
This one was sharp.
“You’ve become completely paranoid.”
“Perhaps.”
I took another step.
“But paranoid people don’t usually find fraudulent legal documents with their names on them.”
Her smile disappeared.
I continued.
“And they don’t usually overhear conversations about being placed in a facility without their knowledge.”
She looked around.
The street was quiet.
Too quiet.
A neighbor across the road had pulled open her curtains.
Thomas’s van was still parked down the block.
Candice noticed it too.
Her eyes narrowed.
“You called someone.”
“I called Rebecca.”
“Your lawyer?”
“Yes.”
Her expression hardened.
“You really think she’s going to save you?”
“No.”
I looked at the house behind me.
“I think the truth will.”
Candice slammed the car door.
“You are making the biggest mistake of your life.”
“No, Candice.”
I looked her directly in the eyes.
“The biggest mistake of my life was believing that because someone smiled at me, they couldn’t be hurting me.”
She stared at me for several seconds.
Then she turned and walked toward the sidewalk.
“You haven’t heard the last of this.”
“I don’t think I have.”
She stopped.
Then she slowly looked over her shoulder.
“You really don’t know what Julian signed.”
My heart skipped.
“What did he sign?”
Candice smiled.
For the first time that morning, the smile looked genuine.
Because she believed she had frightened me.
“You’ll find out.”
Then she walked away.
I watched her disappear around the corner.
I didn’t move.
I simply stood there with both hands wrapped around my walker.
Because her final sentence had awakened a question I had been trying desperately not to ask.
What exactly had my son signed?
Rebecca arrived forty-three minutes later.
She didn’t come alone.
A younger attorney named Daniel Brooks accompanied her.
Daniel carried a thick leather folder under one arm.
Rebecca didn’t even sit down before asking,
“Where is Candice?”
“She left.”
“Good.”
Rebecca placed the folder on my dining room table.
“Did she threaten you?”
“Not directly.”
“Did she mention any legal documents?”
I told her exactly what had happened.
When I finished, Rebecca exchanged a look with Daniel.
“What?” I asked.
Rebecca pulled out a chair.
“Sit down, Evelyn.”
“I don’t like that tone.”
“I know.”
She sat across from me.
“That’s why I’m going to tell you everything.”
Daniel opened the folder.
Rebecca placed several documents on the table.
The first was the guardianship petition.
I had seen it before.
The second was the affidavit.
Again, familiar.
Then Daniel placed a third document in front of me.
I couldn’t read the small print.
Rebecca knew that.
So she read it aloud.
“This is a proposed durable power of attorney.”
“Another one?”
“No.”
She looked at me carefully.
“This one is different.”
“How?”
“It doesn’t name Candice.”
I stared at her.
“Who does it name?”
Rebecca hesitated.
Then she said,
“Julian.”
I felt my chest tighten.
“Julian?”
“Yes.”
“But I never signed this.”
“We know.”
“Then how does it exist?”
Daniel answered.
“That’s the problem.”
He turned another page.
“Your son signed several documents believing they were related to your medical care.”
I closed my eyes.
“That sounds like something Candice would do.”
Rebecca nodded.
“But there’s more.”
I opened my eyes.
Daniel placed another page on the table.
“This document gives Julian authority to manage your financial accounts.”
My fingers began trembling.
“Does it have my signature?”
“No.”
“Then it’s invalid.”
“Correct.”
“Then why are you worried?”
Rebecca leaned back.
“Because someone attempted to use it.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
“Use it for what?”
“To access one of your investment accounts.”
I stared at her.
“Did they get in?”
“No.”
Rebecca’s answer came quickly.
“We stopped the transaction.”
I exhaled.
Then Daniel spoke.
“But the attempted withdrawal was substantial.”
“How much?”
He looked at the document.
“Two hundred and eighty thousand dollars.”
The room went silent.
I stared at him.
Two hundred and eighty thousand dollars.
Money Arthur and I had saved over decades.
Money I had never touched except for emergencies.
Money I had intended to leave to Julian.
My son.
The same son whose signature appeared on documents describing me as mentally incompetent.
I felt something inside me crack.
“Did Julian try to take it?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“But someone using his authority tried.”
“Yes.”
I looked toward the window.
Sunlight poured across the dining room floor.
The same floor where Julian had taken his first steps.
I remembered Arthur laughing.
I remembered Julian falling.
I remembered running toward him.
I remembered picking him up.
And suddenly I wondered when exactly that little boy had disappeared.
Rebecca reached across the table.
“Don’t blame yourself.”
“I raised him.”
“You raised a child.”
She paused.
“Whatever choices he’s making now belong to the adult he became.”
I wiped my eyes.
“I don’t want to lose my son.”
Rebecca’s expression softened.
“You may not lose him.”
“But?”
“But you may lose the version of him you have been protecting in your mind.”
That sentence stayed with me.
For a long time.
That afternoon, Martha came over.
She brought soup.
She always brought soup when she didn’t know what else to do.
“You haven’t eaten.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re eighty-one. You don’t get to stop eating because your family is awful.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
“You’re impossible.”
“I’ve been impossible since 1969.”
She placed the bowl in front of me.
Then she noticed the documents.
Her smile disappeared.
“What happened?”
I told her.
She listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she slowly shook her head.
“I always thought Candice was trouble.”
“You told me that two years ago.”
“I told you that six months after she moved in.”
“You said she was controlling.”
“I was being polite.”
I smiled faintly.
Martha sat beside me.
“Evelyn, I need to tell you something.”
Her voice had changed.
“What?”
“I saw Candice at the bank last month.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“She was with a man.”
“What man?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wasn’t sure.”
“Sure of what?”
Martha looked toward the window.
“He wasn’t a banker.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know the bank manager. I’ve known him for twenty years.”
She lowered her voice.
“They were sitting in a private office.”
“Was Julian with her?”
“No.”
“Then who was he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you hear anything?”
Martha nodded.
“One thing.”
I waited.
“He said, ‘Once the old lady is placed, the property won’t be a problem.’”
My stomach dropped.
“Placed?”
“That’s what he said.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
I stood.
“Where did you see them?”
“River Street branch.”
“When?”
“About three weeks ago.”
I looked at the documents again.
Three weeks.
That was before Rebecca had even become involved.
Before I knew about the fraudulent paperwork.
Before I changed the locks.
Before Candice knew I had discovered everything.
Which meant this had been planned long before I realized it.
And suddenly another thought occurred to me.
“Why was Candice at the bank?”
Martha looked at me.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out.”
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
At 2:17 in the morning, I heard something outside.
A car door.
I sat up.
My bedroom was dark.
For several seconds, I listened.
Nothing.
Then I heard footsteps.
Slow.
Careful.
They stopped near the front porch.
My heart began pounding.
I reached for the phone beside my bed.
Another sound.
Metal against metal.
Someone was testing the new lock.
I called Thomas.
He answered on the second ring.
“Evelyn?”
“Someone is outside.”
“I’m coming.”
I stayed in my bedroom.
The footsteps moved around the side of the house.
Then stopped.
I heard the faint sound of glass.
A window.
My breathing became shallow.
I dialed 911.
Before I could speak, headlights suddenly flooded the front windows.
A vehicle stopped directly in front of my house.
A man’s voice shouted from outside.
“Police!”
The footsteps disappeared.
Several seconds later, I heard running.
Then another voice.
