Mark lunged toward the folder, but Sophie stepped backward and clutched it tightly against her chest. “You tricked her!” he shouted at me. “She’s confused, and you took advantage of an old woman!” Rhonda immediately grabbed her phone, threatening to call the judge she’d mentioned countless times before. I didn’t argue. I remained in my chair, calmly lifted my teacup, and took another sip while they shouted across my living room.

Then the doorbell rang again. Dale, the realtor, stepped inside looking pale and nervous. Behind him stood a deputy holding a small notebook. “Mark,” the deputy said quietly, “before anyone signs anything else, I need to ask about the power of attorney you filed at the county office last Tuesday. The one carrying your mother’s signature.” Mark froze. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Rhonda slowly lowered her phone. Then the cookies slipped from my mother’s china plate and scattered across the floor.

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