Chapter 6: The Doctor's Letter
Geoffrey arrived at half past nine the following morning.
He was a tall, careful man in his mid-sixties, the kind of solicitor who measured every word before releasing it.
He shook my hand at the door, introduced himself properly, and declined tea because he wanted to begin immediately.
We sat at the kitchen table — Geoffrey, Patricia, and I — with the Power of Attorney draft between us.
Daniel came downstairs at ten.
He stopped when he saw Geoffrey.
"Who are you?"
"Geoffrey Marsh.
I'm here on Margaret's behalf."
Daniel looked at me.
"You called a solicitor?"
"I called a friend," I said.
"Who brought a solicitor.
Because it seemed prudent given what I found on my kitchen table."
Daniel's face shifted through several things at once.
He pulled out a chair and sat down, and I noticed he did not call upstairs for Vanessa.
Geoffrey asked measured, clear questions.
How long had Daniel and Vanessa been staying.
When were the renovations expected to finish.
Whose idea the Power of Attorney had been.
Had Margaret ever been formally assessed for capacity.
Daniel answered the first three questions with deflections.
On the fourth, he said: "There are concerns."
"Whose concerns?" Geoffrey asked.
"Ours."
"Has a medical professional shared those concerns in writing?"
Daniel was quiet for a moment.
Then he stood up and said, "I'll be right back."
He was gone for four minutes.
When he returned, he placed a folded letter on the table.
I recognized neither the name on the letterhead nor the address.
Geoffrey read it.
Patricia read it over his shoulder.
*…observed periods of confusion, difficulty retaining recent information, and some evidence of diminished organizational capacity…
further assessment recommended…*
I looked at the name of the doctor.
Dr.
R.
Okafor.
I had never heard of him.
I had never been to his practice.
I had never sat in his consulting room.
"When was this written?" I asked.
"Six weeks ago," Geoffrey said, his voice entirely flat.
"I have never seen this man," I said.
"I have never had an appointment with him.
My doctor is Dr.
Ellison at the Cartwright Road practice, and I have seen her every six months for eleven years."
Geoffrey set the letter down.
"Daniel," he said, "do you want to tell me how this assessment came to be?"
Daniel looked at his hands.
"He came to the house," Vanessa said from the doorway.
None of us had heard her come downstairs.
"We invited him here.
He observed Margaret over two visits."
"He was in this house?" I said.
"He came as a friend of Daniel's colleague.
He wasn't introduced as a doctor."
The room was so quiet I could hear the clock above the door.
"You brought a doctor into my home," I said slowly, "without telling me who he was.
And allowed him to observe me.
And used his observations to build a case for taking legal control of my life."
Vanessa's chin lifted slightly.
"We were trying to protect you."
"You were building a file," I said.
"You moved my chair.
You printed a schedule.
You watched me for six weeks and wrote it all down for a man who came into my home under false pretenses." I looked at my son.
"Daniel.
Did you know about this?"
He didn't answer.
"Daniel." My voice cracked on the second syllable.
Just once.
"Did you know?"
He looked up at me, and the expression on his face was the worst thing I had seen in seventy-seven years of living.
He had known.
He looked back down at his hands before I could read anything else in his face.
Geoffrey put the letter into his briefcase.
"I'll need to speak with Dr.
Ellison today," he said.
"And I'll be filing a formal complaint regarding Dr.
Okafor's conduct." He closed the clasp.
"In the meantime, Margaret, I strongly advise that nothing in this house changes hands, is signed, or is removed."
Vanessa looked at Geoffrey with an expression that was no longer pretending to be warm.
"And if we feel that Geoffrey — that *my husband's mother* — is no longer capable of making sound decisions?
What then?"
Geoffrey looked at her steadily.
"Then that would need to be established through a formal capacity assessment, conducted by an independent clinician, before any court of law.
Not by a private individual invited to dinner under a false name."
Vanessa's expression didn't change.
But she took one small step back.
Geoffrey stood.
"I'll be in touch this afternoon," he said to me.
He left.
Patricia patted my arm and followed him out to speak with him privately at the car.
I sat alone at the kitchen table.
Daniel had not moved.
Then his phone buzzed on the table.
He looked at it.
Something shifted in his face.
He turned the screen toward me.
It was a text from a number I didn't recognize.
May you like
*Tell her Roy saw us.
We need to deal with that today.*
