I turned to the last page. The yellow tab. Agent: David Francis Davis.
I set it down on my blanket.
“This isn’t an insurance form, David,” I said.
Chapter Eight: Malcolm Comes In
David’s face changed. All the warmth slid off it, like snow sliding off a roof.
“Mom,” he said carefully. “You’re confused. It’s the anesthesia. They said this might happen.”
“I’m not confused.”
“You’re not thinking clearly. That’s okay. That’s normal after what you went through.”
“I’m thinking very clearly, David.” I took off my reading glasses. “This gives you the power to sell my house. Today. Without asking me.”
“It’s for your protection!”
“Protection from what?”
He didn’t answer. He looked at Sarah. Sarah looked at the floor.
That’s when someone knocked on the doorframe.
Malcolm stood there. Dark suit. Briefcase. Gloria Nakamura was beside him with her red glasses and her laptop bag. And behind them, a woman I didn’t know yet. Fifties, silver earrings, a white coat with a hospital badge from a different hospital. Swedish Medical Center.
