“What kind of paperwork?”
“For Walter.”
There was the briefest pause. Then her voice brightened in a way that made my skin crawl.
“Of course. I’ll be there tonight.”
No questions. No hesitation. Just eagerness.
That reaction told me almost as much as the envelope had.
Part Ten: The Kitchen Table
Lisa arrived at seven o’clock sharp.
Walter was upstairs. I’d told him to stay in his room with the door closed.
I sat at
the kitchen table in my brand-new glasses, the envelope in front of me, my hands folded on top of it so they wouldn’t shake.
She noticed the glasses right away. “Oh, new pair?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” She started shrugging off her coat. “Still, maybe no driving for a while, Mom.”
I smiled. “Funny you should mention driving.”
Her hands stopped halfway out of her sleeves. “What?”
“Why did you take my glasses, Lisa?”
Her face went perfectly blank. “I didn’t.”
“I have a video.”
The color drained out of her so fast I thought she might faint. “A video of what?”
“Of you opening my purse the morning of the accident. Taking out my glasses case. And putting it in your bag.”
She stared at me.
Then, slowly, she sat down across from me. “Mom…”
“Why?”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then tell me what it is.”
I thought I knew
exactly where this conversation was going.
I was wrong.
“I was worried about you,” she said.
“So you stole the glasses I needed to drive?”
“You shouldn’t have been driving at all!”
“Then why did you tell me to wear the old pair?”
Silence.
I leaned forward. “Why were you already filing guardianship papers while I was lying in a coma?”
“Because somebody had to think about Walter!”
“I was alive.”
“You were unconscious!”
“For eleven days, Lisa. Not eleven years.”
Her jaw clenched.
“And why did you want him four years ago?”
“He’s my nephew.”
“Try again.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth. For once.”
“I loved my brother.”
“So did I.”
“He trusted me.”
