“She’s not all there. Just so you know.”
Those were the first words he spoke to me. Not “hello,” not “I have an appointment.” He just jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the little woman sitting quietly by the window.
“We’re here to check her in. This is where she’ll… you know. Spend her last days.”
I’m the charge nurse at Willow Creek Assisted Living. I’ve seen this play a hundred times.
The man, Robert, was tall and loud. He wore an expensive-looking watch and smelled of sharp cologne, radiating the kind of confidence that steamrolls everyone in his path. His wife, Susan, was the opposite—a whisper of a woman who seemed to be trying to fade into the beige wallpaper. She carried two worn-out suitcases and stood in the corner, wringing her hands.
And then there was Evelyn. The “she’s not all there” aunt.
She was perched on the chair, her feet dangling an inch off the floor, swinging them gently like a child. She was smiling, completely absorbed by a hummingbird buzzing at the feeder outside, as if she were here to watch the birds, not to be abandoned.
Robert planted himself in the middle of my office. “My aunt has decided she wants to be with… people her own age,” he announced, with a slight, dismissive glance her way.
His wife, Susan, flinched and nodded, as if on command.
“I respect her decision, of course,” Robert continued. “Even though she certainly doesn’t respect me.”
Susan nodded again, faster this time, staring at a spot on the carpet.
“She’s been living with us for two years. In her house, mind you.” He let that hang in the air. “We’ve been handling everything. The upkeep, the taxes, the calls in the middle of the night. We’d love to keep doing it, but… we work. We have lives. The stress is… well, you understand. And her condition is just… deteriorating.”
“Whose condition, exactly?” I asked, keeping my voice neutral.
“Hers, obviously!” he scoffed, adjusting his blazer. “We’re the sandwich generation. Paying for our kids’ college, and now this. It’s too much.”
Susan swallowed, a small, bird-like sound, as if apologizing for taking up air.
“We’ll visit,” Robert said.
“I see.”
“I’m not finished!” He lifted his chin. “Once a week. No more. She packed her own bags.” He gestured to the worn suitcases. “It’s just old stuff. No point in buying anything new at this stage. It would be a waste, frankly.”
“And how do you know what ‘stage’ she’s at? Are you her doctor?” I asked. The question came out sharper than I’d intended.
“I’m in real estate!” he declared, as if that were a medical degree. “I manage high-value assets. I know depreciation when I see it.”
“Interesting,” I said. “Especially since the house is her asset, not yours.”
He glared. “She won’t last six months. A year, tops. Any decent financial advisor would agree. Her mind is gone.”
“So, no doctor has actually evaluated her?”
“Not a… specialist, no. But it’s obvious, isn’t it?”
He dropped his business card on my desk. “Call me when… you know. For the arrangements.”
He turned and strode out. Susan gave a tiny, terrified glance at Evelyn, then scurried after him, a shadow pulled by an invisible string.
The door clicked shut.
The silence in the room was heavy. Then, a bright, clear voice piped up.
“Well, thank the Lord that’s over. Is the coffee here any good, dear?”
I turned. Evelyn was looking right at me, her eyes as sharp and clear as a winter sky. The vacant smile was gone.
“I… I’m so sorry, Evelyn,” I started.
“Oh, nonsense,” she said, waving a delicate hand. “Don’t be sorry for me. Robert’s a fool. Always has been. Thinks he’s the next Donald Trump, just waiting for his inheritance.”
She hopped down from the chair.
“And Susan… bless her heart. She’s been browbeaten for so long she’s forgotten how to stand up straight. I had no children of my own, you know. God never gave them to me. So when my sister—his mother—passed, I took him in. Let them move into my house. Thought it would be company.”
She walked over to the window, watching her nephew’s luxury sedan speed out of the parking lot.
“Company? Ha! They just… settled. Started talking about their kitchen, their repairs, their equity. He’s been treating me like a piece of furniture that hasn’t died yet.”
“I could see that,” I said quietly.
“He’s absolutely certain he’s inheriting the house.”
“Yes.”
“Well,” she turned to me, her face breaking into a magnificent, mischievous grin. “He’s not getting a dime. Not one red cent.”
I must have looked as shocked as I felt.
“I sold it. Last Tuesday. Closed the deal while he was at his ‘power lunch.'”
“You… what?”
“Sold it! To the Garcias, my neighbors for thirty years. The ones who shoveled my walk every winter and never asked for a penny. Their granddaughter, Maria, is studying to be a nurse, just like you. She’s a wonderful girl. She’s coming to visit me tomorrow.”
Evelyn’s eyes danced. “And the money? Oh, it’s all tucked away in a trust that Robert’s grubby hands can never touch. He has no idea. Oh, to be a fly on the wall when the new owners show up with the keys!”
She let out a delighted little giggle.
“This,” I pointed to the suitcases. “He said you packed…”
“Oh, that?” She kicked one with her little foot. “Rags. Old towels and moth-eaten sweaters I was taking to Goodwill. I just packed it to make him think I was confused and compliant. Maria is bringing my real clothes tomorrow. My good blouses. The blue one with the pearls.”
She patted my arm, her energy filling the room.
“Honey, I’m 84 years old. I’m not here to die. I’m here to live. And you can’t live properly when you’re surrounded by vultures.”
She clapped her hands together softly. “Now… you mentioned coffee. I am dying for a cup. And do you suppose this place has any pie? I’d kill for a warm piece of apple pie.”
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