Chapter 3
"Go ahead, Michael," I replied calmly. "Tell them to bring whoever they like. In fact, call the county adult protective services while you're at it. They'll find my physician’s clean bill of cognitive health right on the counter next to my property deeds."
Jennifer grabbed Michael’s arm, pulling him back. Her mind, always calculating, seemed to realize that brute force and tantrums weren't working. She took a deep breath, stepped up to the camera, and softened her tone into that patronizing, syrupy cadence she used when managing difficult clients.
"Mom... Maggie... listen to me," Jennifer pleaded, lowering her voice. "Let’s just calm down. We don't want to fight. The grandkids have presents for you in the trunk. Tommy made you an ornament at school. Don't do this to them. Just let us in, we’ll make dinner, and we can sit down and talk like adults. We know you've been lonely. We know you're hurting. Let us help you."
For a fraction of a second, the phantom ache of the young mother I used to be stirred in my chest. I remembered Jennifer at seven, wearing pigtails and crying because she fell off her bicycle. I remembered staying up three straight nights with Michael when he had pneumonia. I remembered sewing tiny sequins onto Lisa’s ballet costume until my fingers bled.
Then I remembered lying in the fluorescent glare of Saint Joseph Hospital, staring at an empty plastic chair, listening to the monotone beep of a cardiac monitor while three unread text messages sat cold on my screen.
"Tommy can keep the ornament, Jennifer," I said. "You haven't brought those children to this house since last Thanksgiving, and you didn't bring them today out of love. You brought them as props to guilt an old woman into signing away her home."
Jennifer’s eyes hardened, the mask slipping completely.
"David," I instructed. "Call the police now."
David pulled his radio from his lapel. Seeing the officer raise the radio, Michael cursed loudly, kicking the stone base of the gate pillar.
"You're crazy!" Michael shouted, pointing violently at the camera. "You're a miserable, selfish old woman! Dad would be disgusted by what you've become! Keep your damn house! Let's see how long you survive in that fortress all by yourself when your heart finally gives out!"
"Let's go," Jennifer snapped, turning back toward her SUV, her face pale with humiliation and rage. "Get in the cars. Now."