And there was a yellow sheet of paper in my husband's handwriting.
1. Tea — 3 wks (done). 2. Witnesses — church, school. 3. Alan's letter. 4. Family dinner, Sat 11/14. 5. Petition Mon 11/16. 6. Eli stays w/ Mom + me during treatment.
Marge Halloran made a small sound, like a kettle just beginning to whistle.
"Dr. Voss," I said. "How many times have you examined me?"
He'd gone the color of paper. "Ms. Bennett, I think there's been a misunderstanding—"
"It's a simple question," said Ray Kessler, from the wall. "Once? Twice?"
"I've had informal consultations with the family—"
"How many times," I said, "have I sat in your office?"
There was a very long silence.
"Never," said Alan Voss.
"You wrote a letter to the court," Kyle said slowly, "calling my sister-in-law your patient?"
"I was told she had consented to an evaluation. Derek said—" Voss took a step back and knocked his shin against a chair. "I was told she was aware. I was told this was a family arrangement."
"Alan," Derek said, in a low warning voice.
"No." Voss's hands were shaking. He closed the folder as if it had burned him. "No. I'm not doing this. I want an attorney."
"Alan."
But he was already turning, already pulling his coat off the hook. He fumbled at the front door and it swung open onto the porch light and the cold night air.
Somewhere outside, I heard a man's voice say, "Dr. Voss? A moment of your time, please."
The door clicked shut.
Derek stood there, red-faced, with a folder in his hand and no one left to blame.
"This is what I've been telling you," he said, and his voice was rising. He looked around the table at his family, his eyes wide and pleading. "You see? You see? She's paranoid. She's made up an entire conspiracy. This is exactly what Alan warned us about—"
"Page seven," I said.
He stopped.