a new problem.
Gavin had filed an emergency guardianship petition that afternoon.
A hearing was scheduled for Monday morning.
According to the petition, Mom had become incapable of managing her affairs and needed Gavin appointed as her guardian.
It included a statement supposedly written by me, supporting his allegations.
Priya read several sentences aloud.
I felt sick.
The statement claimed I had observed severe memory loss, irrational accusations, and repeated aggressive behavior during visits over the previous year.
I had made no such observations.
I hadn’t even been to Vermont during several of the periods described.
“That’s not mine,” I said.
“I suspected that might be the case.”
“And the cottage?”
“Closing is scheduled for Monday afternoon.
We’ll need to contact the settlement company and title insurer immediately.”
I looked at Mom lying beneath a hospital blanket.
My brother had prepared to take over her life in court, sell her remaining property, and move her somewhere she might no longer be able to reach me.
He had apparently planned everything around one assumption.
That she would never find anyone willing to listen.
On Saturday morning, we began untangling the documents.
Mom authorized Priya to obtain information from her banks and contact the parties handling the cottage sale.
I took leave from work.
I also made it clear that I would not use my employer’s systems or position to investigate my family.
This was Mom’s case, and every request had to follow the proper legal process.
Priya contacted the title company, supplied the revocation and proof of notice, and alerted the parties that the purported seller’s authority was disputed.
The settlement company suspended the closing pending legal review.
The bank began examining transactions made after the revocation and placed appropriate restrictions on suspicious pending activity while investigating.
Not every dollar could be recovered immediately.
Some funds were already gone.
But the cottage would not be transferred on Monday as Gavin expected.
That afternoon, Detective Reyes called.
Investigators had spoken to a former home-care aide named Moira Chen.
Moira had worked at the house briefly after Mom’s pneumonia.
She said Gavin dismissed her after she questioned unexplained bruises and restrictions on Mom’s movements.
She had kept her employment records and had reported her concerns to her supervisor.
The detective was obtaining those records.
Then Priya discovered why the cottage sale mattered so urgently.
Gavin owned a struggling construction company.
He had debts coming due the following Wednesday, and a large portion of the planned sale proceeds had been designated for a company account under a questionable reimbursement arrangement.
He hadn’t simply decided Mom no longer needed the cottage.
He needed her money to keep his business afloat.
I thought about the way he had described his caregiving as a sacrifice.
Some of those sacrifices were real.
He had taken her to appointments during her illness and helped around the house.
But somewhere along the way, he had begun treating those efforts as permission to own everything she possessed.
When I told Mom about the financial records, she stared at the window.
“I would have helped him if he’d asked,” she said.
“I know.”
“I helped him before.
When his business first opened, your father and I gave him money.”
She turned toward me.
“But he never asked whether I could afford to
