Chloe opened her mouth.
Mom answered.
“Your sister wanted to help.”
I kept looking at Chloe.
“You said I couldn’t be trusted alone.”
“I didn’t write it.”
“But you signed it.”
Her fingers tightened around the sunglasses.
“They said it was temporary.”
Nora read quietly from the page.
“The declarant describes several recent visits during which Clara appeared unable to recognize familiar people and left cooking appliances unattended.”
I stared at my sister.
“You haven’t visited me.”
“No.”
“One time?
In seventeen years?”
“No.”
Dad leaned forward.
“Chloe, don’t start becoming confused.”
She flinched.
It was small.
I might not have noticed if I hadn’t spent my childhood learning the difference between his ordinary voice and the one that came before punishment.
Marianne noticed too.
“Chloe,” she said, “did you observe any of those things?”
My sister looked at our mother.
Mom’s expression was perfectly still.
