“On what?”
“I never saw the whole page.”
I thought about the forms downstairs.
Then another possibility came to me.
“Did you ever sign anything?”
“One paper.”
“When?”
“About five months ago. She said it was for insurance.”
“What did it look like?”
“Several pages. Yellow tabs. Initial here. Sign there.”
I closed my eyes.
Abigail hadn’t only been preparing to forge authority.
She may have been assembling it gradually.
“Tomorrow,” Mom said quietly, “she expects that doctor to say I’m incompetent.”
“She does.”
“And what do you expect?”
I looked at her.
“That doctor is going to receive a different story.”
By eight thirty, Abigail was already dressed.
Cream blouse.
Pearl earrings.
Hair perfect.
She had also packed Mom a small bag.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Just essentials.”
“For a doctor visit?”
“In case Dr. Leonard recommends immediate observation.”
Immediate observation.
Meaning Mom might not come home.
