“Margaret,” she said in that soft voice she uses when she has something important to say. “I need to tell you something I heard in town.”
I was peeling oranges to make juice, but something in her tone made my hands stop. The peels fell to the floor like small withered suns.
“What is it, Helen?”
She looked towards the road as if afraid someone might hear us.
“Yesterday I was at old Mr. Henderson’s law office. I had gone to renew the papers for my land, you remember? And while I was waiting, I overheard Amber talking on the phone.”
My heart started to beat faster. Amber at the lawyer’s office. That couldn’t be a coincidence.
“She was talking to someone about selling the farm. Margaret. She said they already had a buyer, that they just needed to convince you to sign some papers, that they were going to tell you it was for renewing the insurance.”
The oranges rolled across the floor. My hands trembled like leaves in a storm.
“Are you sure about what you heard?”
“As sure as my name is Helen Marie, and there’s more. She also mentioned something about changing the bank accounts to David’s name. She said it was more convenient for a woman your age. And then, Margaret, I heard something that chilled my blood. She said that after the sale, they were going to take you to a nursing home in the city that they had already set aside the money to pay for it.”
A nursing home as if I were a piece of old furniture that was no longer useful. As if these 73 years of life were worth nothing.
