“How interesting that you use exactly the same terminology your lawyer used in the documents you presented to the judge.”
Her face tensed for a fraction of a second before she regained her composure.
“I filed those documents because I am genuinely worried about you. Any daughter would—”
“Any daughter who wanted to steal from her mother, you mean?”
Audrey gasped. Grant shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Faith, however, kept her gaze fixed on me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do. I know about the lawyer you spoke with. I know about the plan to obtain guardianship over me. I know you planned to have me declared incompetent, to take control of my assets. The only thing you didn’t know is that I found out before you could execute it.”
The silence that followed was thick, heavy. The diners at nearby tables had stopped talking and were looking at us discreetly. The waiter, who was coming toward us with the coffee, quietly turned back.
“You’re paranoid,” Faith finally said.
“That’s exactly the kind of thinking that shows you need help—imagining conspiracies, believing your own family wants to hurt you.”
“It’s not paranoia when it’s true. And I didn’t have to imagine it. I heard it directly from your mouth.”
Grant intervened for the first time.
“Dolores, I understand you’re upset, but you need to see this from our perspective. You sold a property worth almost $200,000 without consulting anyone. You moved without leaving an address. You don’t answer calls. These are worrying behaviors in someone your age.”
Worrying behaviors.
It was my house, bought with my money, built with my work. I didn’t need to consult anyone to sell it. And I moved without leaving an address precisely because I knew you would come to do this—to manipulate me, to pressure me, to try to control me.
“No one wants to control you, Mom.”
Faith had switched to her sweet voice, the one she used when she was trying to convince me of something.
“We just want what’s best for you. You’re our mother. We love you.”
“If you loved me, you would respect my decisions. If you loved me, you wouldn’t have hired a lawyer to plan how to strip me of my autonomy.”
“That’s your version of events,” Faith said.
She searched for the right words.
