Chapter 8 - An Independent Opinion
Dr. Nisha Shah arrived at noon with a canvas medical bag and a face that revealed nothing. She was younger than I expected, perhaps forty, and wore bright yellow sneakers beneath her navy scrubs.
“I am here to assess Evelyn’s decision-making capacity,” she said.
“Diane arranged this?” I asked.
“Your grandmother arranged it.”
Grandma sat in the sunroom with her wrist supported by pillows. “I can still hire people.”
“You can,” Dr. Shah said. “You can also fire them if they ask insulting questions.”
“Good. I dislike insulting questions.”
“Then we will focus on precise ones.”
The evaluation lasted nearly an hour. Dr. Shah asked Grandma about the date, the loan, the property, the names of her medications, and the consequences of selling the house. Grandma answered without hesitation.
When Dr. Shah asked what she would do if the house were sold, Grandma said, “I would move to an apartment, pay off Diane’s debt, and spend the remainder on care. I would not like it, but I would understand it.”
Dr. Shah glanced at me. “That distinction matters.”
After the assessment, Grandma asked me to walk with her to the greenhouse. She moved slowly with the walker, stopping once to catch her breath.
“You arranged all this before I came,” I said.
“I arranged it before I fell.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you would have come out of obligation.”
“I came because you were hurt.”
“That is not the same as coming because you chose me.”
I stopped beside the broken fountain. “You don’t get to punish me for having a life.”
“I am not punishing you.”
“You called me after years of telling me not to worry.”
“I called because I needed someone who could still be surprised by Diane.”
The honesty made me angry. “You used me.”
“Yes.”
“You admit that?”
“I am trying not to repeat my mistakes.”
Her answer left me with nowhere to place my anger.
That afternoon, Jonah came by with copies of the loan documents. The note had been signed by Diane as borrower and by Evelyn as guarantor. The collateral agreement listed the western acreage but described the eastern parcel only as “improvements and access rights.”
“That may mean Mercer cannot take the house,” Jonah said.
“May?”
“The language is ambiguous.”
“Ambiguous is not comforting.”
“It is better than clear.”
Grandma studied the signature page. “This is not my signature.”
“The guaranty?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you saying Diane forged it?”
“No. I signed a different page.”
Jonah frowned. “Was Harold Pike present?”
“He brought papers to the hospital. I signed what he marked.”
“Do you remember the guaranty?”
“I remember a loan authorization. Not this.”
The ambiguity became something sharper.
Jonah took photographs of the documents. “We need the original file.”
“From Pike?”
“From the title company.”
“Can we get it?”
“Not without a subpoena.”
“Then we need another way.”
The back door opened. Diane stood there, holding a grocery bag.
“Another way to do what?”
No one answered quickly enough.
She set the bag down. “You hired a doctor without telling me.”
“I hired a doctor because you hired an attorney who wants to sell the house.”
“I hired an attorney because no one else would take responsibility.”
“Responsibility is not ownership.”
“Neither is fear.”
Diane turned to Jonah. “You should leave.”
“I agree,” he said. “But not because you asked.”
She stepped closer. “Your firm worked for Cal Mercer.”
“My firm worked for a zoning client. I did not.”
“You know what he wants.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re helping them stop him.”
“I am helping Evelyn understand her rights.”
“You were always good at turning family disputes into billable hours.”
Jonah’s expression hardened. “I have not charged her a dollar.”
“Not yet.”
Diane grabbed the grocery bag and carried it into the kitchen.
Grandma watched her go. “She is frightened.”
“So is everyone.”
“Fear does not excuse what she does.”
“You keep saying that as if you are trying to convince yourself.”
Grandma nodded. “I am.”
That evening, the nurse called to ask whether Grandma had taken her pain medication. Diane answered the phone and said yes.
Grandma had not.
When I asked why, she pointed to the pill organizer.
“The Tuesday compartment is empty.”
“Did you take it?”
“No.”
“Did Diane?”
“Do not leap to the most frightening answer.”
I looked at the pill organizer, then at the locked study door.
“What answer should I choose?”
May you like
Grandma’s face was pale.
“The answer that leaves room for proof.”
