“Fiddlesticks.” Mrs. Yetner straightened her glasses and gave him a steely look. “I’m not your Miss Mina. And I’m not nuts.”

“Of course she’s not,” Evie said, shading her eyes to get a better look at the man. A yellow shield-shaped patch was sewn to the shoulder of his dark gray zippered jacket. A silvery badge was pinned over the brim of his cap. She could make out the word SECURITY.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he said to Mrs. Yetner, though from his tone it was clear that he didn’t mean it, “but three times in the last month?” He shook his head. “Or has it been four?”

Mrs. Yetner didn’t answer. She looked frightened.

“You know it’s against the law, breaking and entering,” the officer added.

Evie felt Mrs. Yetner stiffen. She took a breath. “Now you listen to me. I was not breaking in. And I never entered. The door was open.” Mrs. Yetner jabbed a finger in the direction of Frank. “He’s the one you should arrest. He was hitting his golf balls. See?” She held out what looked like a muddy golf ball. “Into the salt marsh.”

Frank guffawed—an ugly sound. “Please, would you give me a break. If that isn’t the most absurd—”

“Absurd? Exactly. And dangerous, too,” Mrs. Yetner said. “Not to mention that the marsh is a protected area. Isn’t polluting against the law?”

“Polluting? For Chrissake, I wasn’t even here. You saw me drive up,” Frank shot back. “What’s it going to take to get you to stop harassing me?”

The officer heaved a heavy sigh. “You can always press charges.”

Frank glared at Mrs. Yetner. Then his look slid over to Evie and he wavered, the anger bleeding from his face. “I guess not. But she’d better keep off my property. I don’t want to have to file a restraining order.”

“Just you try,” Mrs. Yetner said under her breath.

“Oh yeah? And you’ll do what exactly?” Frank crossed his arms and scowled down at her. “I don’t like being threatened.”

“Neither”—Mrs. Yetner held his gaze, and as the seconds ticked by she seemed to grow calmer and calmer while he looked more and more like a balloon getting too much air blown into it—“do I.”

He was the first to look away. “Stupid cow.”

“Pardon me? What did you say?” Mrs. Yetner asked, calmer still.

Frank gave her an uneasy look. “Nothing.”

Mrs. Yetner took a deep breath. “All right then.” She straightened her back and rose to her feet. Evie stood with her. “I’m going home now. I think I’ve made my point.”

Evie retrieved Mrs. Yetner’s cane from the grass and handed it to her. But Mrs. Yetner’s first step was a stumble.

“Here,” Evie said, taking her arm again, “let me help you.” Evie could feel the men watching as she helped Mrs. Yetner cross the street.

Brian at least hurried over and took Mrs. Yetner’s other arm. “Aunt Mina, doesn’t this prove the point that I’ve been trying to make? You didn’t even remember the other times this has happened. I can only imagine what other little mishaps you’re covering up, or worse still, forgetting.”

Mrs. Yetner’s grip tightened on Evie’s arm and she blanched. The scar down the side of her face and neck was livid.

As they continued across the street, Brian went on in a quiet voice that Evie could barely hear. “You may not like it, but it’s time to start looking seriously at nursing—”

“I am not going into a nursing home,” Mina spat back at him.

“Fine. Elderly housing then. Assisted living. Call it whatever you like. Some kind of residential setting where they can give you the help you need and not make you feel like you’re being a bother.”

That stopped Mrs. Yetner in her tracks. She stared at Brian, her mouth open.

Brian went on. “Look, I know you’re not feebleminded. That’s not what this is about. But let me call around and make some appointments so you can at least see what your options are. I’ll try to set up some visits for tomorrow. Monday afternoon. All right?”

Mrs. Yetner sagged, and in a quiet voice, she said, “Oh, all right. If you must.”

Chapter Twenty-four

It wasn’t until Mina was inside her house with the door firmly shut that she let go of Evie’s arm. Feeling utterly defeated and trembling with humiliation, she sank down on a bench in the entryway and stared at the mud she’d tracked across the threshold. Mina could hear herself panting like she’d been running.

“Are you all right?” Evie asked.

“Of course I’m all right,” Mina said. How could her own nephew talk to her that way? And in public?

Evie made a murmur of sympathy. What would have happened, Mina wondered, if the girl hadn’t shown up? That man was going to handcuff her and haul her off to jail? And Brian, standing right there and not lifting a finger to help.

As if she couldn’t take care of herself. She’d been taking care of herself for—

“Here, let me help you off with these.” Evie squatted down in front of her.

“It’s all right. I can do it.” Mina bent over and strained to reach the boot. Tried to take a deep breath, but that made her back ache. She needed to slow down, to breathe, and get the pounding in her chest to ease.

Reluctantly she gave up, leaned back, and let Evie pick up one of her legs then the other, tugging off the tall rubber boots like her mother used to do when she was in first grade. Her feet came out bare. Mina reached into each boot and pulled out the bedroom slippers that were stuck inside. She dropped them on the floor and slid her feet into them.

Evie set the boots on the mat by the door. Then she went into the kitchen and came back with some paper towels. She wiped away the mud Mina had tracked into the entryway.

“Are they still out there?” Mina asked.

Evie stood and looked out through the window in the front door. “They’re talking.”

“Having a jolly postmortem on my behalf, no doubt.”

After a long pause, Evie said, “They’re leaving now.”

When she heard the sound of a car engine catching, Mina felt the tension finally drain from her back. “I’m quite sure they think I’m a complete nitwit. Delusional. But this thing nearly hit me in the head.” She set the golf ball on the hall table. “As if I could make up something like that.”

Evie picked up the ball and examined it.

“He said it was”—Mina continued, lowering her voice though she knew no one but Evie could hear her—“the third time that I’ve set off that alarm.”

“But it’s not?” Evie offered Mina her cane.

“Could someone forget a thing like that?” Mina took the cane and stood. “With that alarm blaring? You tell me.” She pushed away the supporting hand Evie offered. She’d be damned if she’d let herself be treated as an invalid.

She made her way to the bathroom where she washed the mud off her hands and arm. Afterward, she stared at her reflection in the mirror over the sink. The scar had turned bright pink. She ran her fingers along its rippled surface. Pink or not, it was completely numb. A blessing, really.

She moistened a washcloth and wiped away streaks of mud from her face. Then she turned her head so she could no longer see the scar.

When she’d turned forty, Mina’s face had started to remind her of her mother’s. But her mother hadn’t made it past seventy. Now the person in the mirror was a complete stranger. The loose skin on her cheeks looked like antique vellum, foxed with age. Pouches sagged under her eyes. Deep lines were incised from the corners of her mouth to her chin. It was odd. Though she was physically transformed, she felt like exactly the same person she’d been when she was twelve.

She could take looking older. Feeling older, even. But losing her memory and her mind? Turning into a person that people talked about but never to? Mina swallowed a knot of fear in her throat and left the bathroom.

“You’re the one who sold me on the therapeutic effects of a nice cup of tea,” Evie said as Mina sank into her chair in the living room. “How about I fix one for you now? I know where everything is.”