Then he continued the evaluation.
He asked Mom about her finances.
She knew where her accounts were held, what bills she paid, and approximately what she kept in each account.
He asked about family dates and recent events.
She answered without difficulty.
He asked whether she understood what power of attorney meant.
“It gives someone authority to act for me under the terms I agree to,” Mom said.
“Did you want Laura to have that authority?”
“No.”
Laura scoffed.
“She did before Daniel came home.”
Mom’s head snapped toward her.
“I never did.”
“You signed documents.”
That got my attention.
“Which documents?”
Laura realized too late what she’d said.
She looked down.
“I don’t remember exactly.
There were lots of forms.”
Mom stared at her.
“You told me they were medical forms.”
Another silence.
The doctor’s expression hardened.
I pulled the final section of my file closer.
“There’s one more thing.”
Laura looked at me.
This time, there was no smile left at all.
I took out my phone but kept the screen angled downward.
I wasn’t interested in putting on a show.
I only wanted the recording heard by the people in that room.
“Daniel,” Laura said quietly, “don’t do something stupid because you’re angry.”
“I’m not angry.”
That was only partly true.
I was furious.
But anger wasn’t the useful part.
Evidence was.
I played the recording from beneath the kitchen table.
Laura’s own voice filled the room.
“No one will believe an old woman over me.”
Her recorded laughter followed.
Laura’s face went blank.
Then came the second sentence.
“By the time Daniel figures it out, everything will already belong to us.”
I stopped the recording.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Laura’s eyes stayed fixed on the phone.
Then she recovered enough to speak.
“You recorded me without telling me?”
She didn’t deny saying it.
That was the detail I noticed.
She attacked the existence of the recording instead of the words on it.
“Who is ‘us’?” I asked.
“You don’t understand the conversation.”
“Then explain it.”
