Chapter 4: Before He Arrives
I was on the phone by seven fifteen.
Her name was Patricia Holt.
An elder law attorney whose office was twelve minutes from my house.
The receptionist put me through after I said three words: *urgent, elderly parent, documents.* Patricia picked up herself.
I told her everything.
Lucas.
The hallway.
The lamp through the gap under the door.
The property transfer.
The notary stamp dated eleven days ago.
I spoke fast and tried not to repeat myself, and when I finished, there was a brief pause on her end.
"Has your mother been declared mentally incapacitated by any physician?"
"No.
She has a heart condition.
She just had surgery.
She's on medication that makes her drowsy — sometimes very drowsy — but no one has ever questioned her capacity legally."
"Does she have a power of attorney in place?"
"I don't know.
I didn't think she needed one yet."
"Okay." Patricia's voice was calm and even.
"Here's what I need you to do before anything else.
I need you to speak with your mother — this morning, before your brother arrives — and ask her directly whether she is aware that she has signed any documents recently.
Don't lead her.
Don't tell her what you found.
Just ask if she remembers signing anything."
"And if she doesn't remember?"
"Then that is exactly the kind of evidence we need.
Can you come in this afternoon?"
"Yes."
"Bring the document.
Bring the photographs.
Write down everything your son told you, with as much detail as you can remember, including the dates and times."
I said I would.
I hung up.
I checked the time.
Nicolas usually arrived around nine-thirty.
I had two hours.
I went to my mother's room and knocked softly before opening the door.
She was awake, propped up against her pillows, the morning light coming through the curtains.
She looked tired, the way she always did in the mornings now, but her eyes were clear.
"Good morning, sweetheart," she said.
I sat in the chair beside her bed.
I kept my hands folded in my lap so she wouldn't see them shake.
"Mom, I want to ask you something.
And I need you to really think about it before you answer."
She looked at me with that steady way she had.
"All right."
"Have you signed anything recently?
Any papers?
Anything Nicolas may have brought over?"
She didn't answer immediately.
Her eyes moved to the window, then back to me.
"Nicolas did bring some papers," she said slowly.
"He said they were insurance forms.
Something about updating the beneficiary information." She paused.
"I told him I was too tired.
But he said it was just a signature.
That it would only take a moment."
My jaw tightened.
"Do you remember what you signed?"
She shook her head.
"It was late.
I was half-asleep.
I thought it was the insurance."
"Mom." I kept my voice gentle.
"Did you know you were signing anything about the house?"
Her expression changed.
"The house?
No.
Why would I—" She stopped.
Her eyes sharpened in a way I hadn't seen since before the surgery.
"What did he have me sign?"
I took her hand.
"I'm going to take care of it.
I need you to trust me."
"What did he do?" Her voice was quiet, but there was nothing uncertain in it.
Before I could answer, we both heard it — the front door opening downstairs.
A key in the lock.
Footsteps in the entryway.
Nicolas's voice floated up the stairs, cheerful and easy.
"Good morning!
I brought bagels."
May you like
My mother's hand tightened around mine.
She didn't let go.
