I stared into my coffee.
“I think I’m already there.”
Tom began looking into the financial side.
The first document he showed me was a life-insurance policy.
My name was beside a number that made me look twice.
Two million dollars.
“When was this increased?”
“Eight months ago.”
I examined the signature.
It looked like mine.
But I had never signed it.
Mark’s insurance business, Tom discovered, was also in serious financial trouble.
Bad investments and lost clients had created a large shortfall.
That gave him a financial motive.
But it did not explain Judith.
I visited her at the hospital.
She looked much smaller than usual.
“Diane. I’m glad you came.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Embarrassed.”
That surprised me.
“What do you remember?”
She frowned.
“Making the soup.”
My chest tightened.
“You made it?”
“Of course. Mark helped.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
Before I could ask more, Harold entered.
The conversation ended.
But my questions did not.
Several days later, Harold called and asked me to meet him alone.
He was sitting on his back porch when I arrived.
“I suppose you know,” he said.
“Know what?”
“About Mark.”
I sat down.
“Tell me.”
Harold explained that after nearly fifty years with Judith, he had become accustomed to her need for control.
She kept documents.
Notes.
Copies of information people didn’t know she had.
“Why?”
Harold stared toward the yard.
“Leverage.”
Then Steve made another discovery.
Judith had placed small cameras around parts of the house because she liked knowing what was happening when she wasn’t present.
Some recordings were almost funny.
One showed her secretly eating three pieces of pie after complaining it was too sweet.
For the first time in days, Steve and I laughed.
Then he opened another file.
The laughter disappeared.
Mark and Judith were sitting together.
They were talking about me.
My inheritance.
Money my aunt had left me separately from our marital finances.
Judith spoke about it as though it were already available to them.
Then Mark mentioned my memory problems.
Judith talked about documenting more “incidents.”
Eventually, she used the word guardianship.
My entire body went cold.
The plan suddenly became clearer.
They weren’t simply trying to make me feel unwell.
They wanted other people to believe I could no longer manage my own affairs.
If enough doctors, friends, and relatives believed I was becoming confused, my financial independence could be challenged.
