“A wildly expensive procedure,” she had declared — and now she pressed on with renewed confidence. “Emily, transfer your entire paycheck to me today. I’ve already calculated it — it should be just enough.”
I pulled out a chair and sat across from her, feeling that familiar, almost clinical curiosity awaken inside me. I never argue for the sake of noise, and I certainly don’t raise my voice. Facts are far more effective weapons.
“What procedure, exactly?” I asked evenly, holding her darting gaze. “What diagnosis did they give you? You’re aware that I’m a physician. Show me your discharge papers, your medical records — I’ll review the treatment plan myself. And if something truly serious is going on, I can arrange consultations with the best specialists in the city through my professional contacts. At no cost to you.”
Linda’s eyes began skittering across the kitchen cabinets, the countertop, the teapot — anywhere but my face. Clearly, she hadn’t anticipated such a precise and unemotional response.
“Oh, what do you and your hospitals know!” she snapped. “Those so-called free programs of yours — they’ll ruin you and won’t even ask your name! I need help tomorrow. It’s… well… an energetic imbalance in my body. A specialist explained that to restore my immunity and stabilize my blood pressure, I urgently need to wear the correct precious metals and rare stones at head level. It’s ancient medicine. Scientifically proven by professors!”
Michael, who had been silently listening until then, slowly lowered the lid of his laptop. The look he gave his mother was heavy, edged with steel.
I couldn’t help a small smile. Watching this third-rate provincial performance unfold was, in a way, almost entertaining.
“Proper stones at head level?” I repeated mildly. “Linda, as a doctor, let me clarify: there are no mystical longevity points on the earlobes. There’s cartilage, fatty tissue, and a network of capillaries. The only pressure diamonds are known to raise is the blood pressure of envious neighbors. Did you read this in one of those free newspapers at the post office? Or did your dear friend Susan finally show off her new jewelry?”
My mother-in-law flushed instantly, like dry straw catching a spark. The brilliant scheme she had carefully constructed over sleepless nights was developing a very visible crack.
The problem was that her close companion, Susan, had a reputation throughout the neighborhood. A master manipulator. A woman who could spin intrigue out of thin air and live quite comfortably off the gullibility of others. Just days earlier, she had apparently paraded a pair of luxurious diamond studs in front of Linda, boasting openly that she had extracted them from her own daughter-in-law through “clever strategy.”
“What does Susan have to do with this?!” Linda screeched, her voice jumping an octave and betraying her completely. “Yes, Susan’s children care about her! They bought her gorgeous diamond earrings! And all her illnesses vanished overnight! Meanwhile, my own son only pays for concrete walls and has forgotten his own mother! I raised you, sacrificed my sleep, gave you everything — and now you begrudge me a few dollars?”
When she saw that pity wasn’t working, her expression transformed with startling speed. The anger melted into syrupy sweetness so thick it was almost suffocating.
“My sweet Emily,” she cooed, her tone dripping honey. “I’m not asking for money out of selfishness. I went to see a notary yesterday. I’ve decided to transfer our family cottage in Maple Grove entirely to you. Michael’s a man — he has no use for garden beds and greenhouses. But you’re practical, you’re a homemaker. You’d take care of it properly. You send me your salary today for my treatment, and next week we’ll go finalize the paperwork. You’ll become the rightful owner of the estate.”
I nearly laughed out loud. There it was — the classic bait-and-switch Susan must have coached her on. Promise treasure, collect the cash, and later produce an elegant excuse: the documents misplaced, the blood pressure acting up, the notary unavailable.
Robert let out a low, rumbling chuckle. He took a deliberate sip of his strong tea and stared thoughtfully into the darkness beyond the kitchen window.
“You know, Linda,” he began slowly, his voice calm but edged with something unmistakably firm, “this reminds me of a situation I once witnessed…”