Page 13 of The Manor of Dreams

He was the last person Ma had spoken to. It hadn’t been one of her children. For a moment Lucille felt a cold and total sense of anger possess her. “Ruin us,” she echoed. Her voice started to tremble. “She said that giving us the house would—ruin us?”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what was going on.”

“As if we’re not ruined now,” she whispered. Every single emotion she had pushed down over the past two weeks flooded her now, the grief rising in the same tide as the anger, all the horrific possible circumstances of her mother’s death, along with her own helplessness. And the worst thing was that she was spiraling, publicly, in the middle of Reid’s office.

“Lucy,” she heard Reid saying. She was only dimly aware of him coming around the desk, putting his hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

She swiped furiously at her face with her sleeves. Lucille looked up and saw Reid leaning over. His hand now cradled her forearm. She held still for a moment, their faces inches apart, his warm brown eyes searching hers, and felt a brief, deranged urge to reach for him. She felt intolerably vulnerable. Why was he looking at her like this? Was it pity or concern?

She rocked back. Reid moved his hand. Lucille stood stiffly from her chair and swept the will into her bag. “Thank you. That was all I needed to know.”

Lucille was still in the parking lot of the law firm. Her swollen eyelids ached from being rubbed raw. She needed to drive home, but now she just sat numbly in her car.

Ma said that the housewould ruin them.

What did she mean? Lucille had always assumed it was obvious that they would sell the house and split the money. They all would have been better off for it. Rennie would have enough money to get back on her feet after her big divorce. Lucille would help recoup some of themoney she’d lost in her soul-sucking, fruitless congressional campaign and her divorce. They would deal with their own grief, separately. Life could start again. But now they were stuck. Trapped within the consequences of their mother’s erratic final decisions.

It infuriated her.

Whatever it took, she would get her childhood home back. There was no way Ma had given the house willingly to Elaine, that scheming vulture. Had Ma been under the influence of something? Had her mental state deteriorated? Lucille didn’t quite trust what Reid said. She needed confirmation. She went back to her phone and searched frantically through her emails until she found the number for the agency.

A nasal voice came from the other end of the line. “Hello. Heartspring Home Health Care.”

“I’d like to speak with one of your nurses. Shelly Liao.”

“One moment.” Tinny music played, and then there was a click.

A Chinese-accented voice said, “This is Shelly.”

“Hi,” Lucille said. “You were employed by my mother, Vivian Yin, through Heartspring, right?”

“I was. Until late June.”

“I see. And why were you let go?”

There was a pause. “I don’t know. You should ask her that.”

Lucille steeled her voice. “Well, she’s dead now, so I figured I could come to you.”

“Oh.” The nurse faltered. “I’m sorry. When did she…?”

“End of July.”

“??. I’m so sorry.” She clicked her tongue, something that Ma also did when expressing pity. “I think—that your mother didn’t want to be taken care of.”

“I see.”

“I did what I could. Her movement wasn’t very good. She needed help getting around, up stairs and into the shower and all. I tried to keep her company in that big house of hers. But she didn’t like it. She wanted to be alone.”

“Did she seem… okay? Mentally?”

“Most times. But she had her own habits. When I would try to eatwith her during meals, she’d make me go away. She always wanted me to prepare an extra plate for her. I’d go eat in the kitchen. And then your mother would sit in the dining room, just her and the two plates in front of her. Just talking.”

“Talking to…?”

“No one,” the nurse said quietly.

Lucille realized she was holding her breath.

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