My mother closed her eyes.
“After your father died, Julian came every weekend. He fixed the porch railing. He drove me to church. Chloe brought casseroles and told everyone they were worried about me living alone.”
I remembered those months. Julian had called me repeatedly, criticizing my work schedule and insisting that Mother needed someone nearby. I had offered to pay for a home aide, but he rejected the idea.
“Family should take care of family,” he had said.
At the time, the words had made me feel ashamed.
Now I understood they had been the opening move.
“When did they move in?” I asked.
“Last winter. They said their house was being renovated, but I later learned they had lost it. Julian had borrowed against everything.”
“What happened after that?”
“At first, they were kind. Then Chloe started taking my mail. Julian told me the bank had changed its rules and that I needed to add him to my accounts.”
“Did you agree?”
