Ashley gulped down her breakfast and went back to her apartment. As she showered and changed, she wondered what she would be allowed to do with Casey’s money if the court appointed her as the dean’s conservator and guardian. Jerry had told her that she could use Casey’s money to pay for her care at the nursing home, but he hadn’t told her anything else about a guardian’s powers. Would she have to decide how to invest Casey’s money? Would she be able to use the money for her own needs? Ashley decided that she needed to know the answers to these questions. And she needed to know one other answer. If she was Casey’s daughter, and Casey died, would she inherit some of Casey’s fortune? If she was an heir to millions, how could she put herself in a position to decide whether Casey lived or died?
Ashley drove through suburban Portland in the pouring rain to the Sunny Rest retirement community. The complex was surrounded by housing developments and shopping centers. It was large, and a road ran through it. On one side of the road were independent-living apartments for retirees who could still take care of themselves. The sprawling one-story complex across from the apartments was for assisted living.
Ashley found a spot in the last row of Sunny Rest’s large parking lot. She dashed through the rain and was drenched by the time she made it through the front door. Water ran off her windbreaker onto the tile floor, and her pants were spotted and stained by the rain. When she finally paid attention to her surroundings, she felt queasy. The hospital smell had something to do with it, but most of her discomfort was caused by the stares of the elderly people in the lobby. Some of them pushed walkers in front of them, others sat in wheelchairs. They were all frail; their veins were blue streaks under waxy, parchment-thin skin, their hair was white and sparse. Some of the residents stared at her with great intensity. Ashley had the eerie impression that their lives were so uneventful that her visit was seen as a major event. Several of the residents seemed lost in their own worlds, heads bobbing to a voice only they heard, or talking incoherently to someone only they could see.
Ashley was halfway to the reception desk when a woman wheeled over and smiled radiantly.
“Hello,” the woman said excitedly. “Are you Carmen? Have you come to visit me?”
A nurse hurried over and took hold of the wheelchair. She smiled apologetically at Ashley.
“Betty, this young lady isn’t Carmen. Carmen visits on Saturday.”
The nurse turned the wheelchair so Betty could not see Ashley. She kept up a steady patter as she wheeled her charge away. The receptionist gave Ashley directions to the wing where Casey was staying. To get there, Ashley had to walk by Betty again. The old woman looked up and smiled.
“Are you Carmen? Have you come to visit me?”
Ashley suppressed a shudder as she walked down a corridor lined with other chairs occupied by more elderly residents. The smell of disinfectant was strong, and the odd behavior of some of the residents unsettling. Ashley knew that she would be old someday, and she hoped that she would not end up in a place like this.
A young nurse was at a station at the end of the corridor. Ashley introduced herself and asked to speak to Stanley Linscott, Casey Van Meter’s treating physician.
“Dr. Linscott isn’t in today,” the nurse told her.
“Is there someone else I can talk to about Ms. Van Meter?”
The nurse suddenly looked wary. “You’ll need to talk to Ann Rostow. She’s the administrator. I’ll call her.”
Ashley took a seat at the nurse’s station. A few minutes later, a slender woman with short gray hair and glasses appeared at the end of the corridor. She was wearing a tan pants suit and a beige blouse. Her walk was energetic and she looked crisp and efficient.
Ashley stood up. The woman stopped in front of her.
“I’m Ann Rostow. I understand that you have some questions about Casey Van Meter.”
“Yes. I wanted to see her and I’d like an update about her condition.”
“Why?”
“I may be her daughter.”
“Is your name Ashley Spencer?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you might come here.”
Ashley’s brow furrowed.
“I read the story in the paper this morning,” Rostow explained. “It said that you were claiming to be Ms. Van Meter’s daughter. Can I see some identification?”
Ashley handed Rostow her driver’s license. The administrator examined it, then handed it back.
“We have to be careful with Ms. Van Meter,” Rostow said. “Reporters are always trying to get information about her. We had some calling this morning. When she first came here, a television crew from one of those tabloid shows tried to sneak in through the kitchen.”
“Ms. Rostow, can I see her? I’ll only stay a minute. If she is my mother… I only knew her for a while, five years ago. I just…”
“This must be very hard for you.”
“It is. It’s very confusing. There’s going to be a DNA test to settle the maternity issue but, from what I’ve learned, she probably is my mother. I just want to see her.”
“You just want to look in?”
“Yes. It would mean a lot to me.”
“All right. Follow me.”
Rostow led Ashley through a set of swinging metal doors and halfway down the next corridor. She stopped in front of one of the rooms and opened the door. Ashley hesitated on the threshold before stepping inside. The walls were painted a sterile tan and there were no pictures on them. A sink was affixed to one wall. Over it was a mirror. Facing the sink was a hospital bed with the side rails up. Ashley forced herself to look at the woman who was lying in it. An IV drip was taped to her forearm. At the far side of the bed a gastric tube disappeared under the blankets. The tube was connected to a pump, which was turned on when Casey was fed.
Ashley expected to see a wasted, shrunken, corpse-like creature that no longer resembled a human being. What she saw was less horrifying but much sadder. Casey had only lost ten pounds during her years of unconsciousness, because she was fed and hydrated regularly. If Ashley had walked into the room by mistake, she might have thought the dean was just sleeping. On closer inspection, Ashley saw why Miles had given up hope. She remembered the animated, dynamic woman who’d shown her and her mother around the Academy campus. That woman had been so energetic, so full of life. Casey Van Meter’s body was a shell devoid of life, a cruel façade. Her face was pale, and her skin looked unhealthy, her muscle tone was gone, and her arms were flabby. She had aged badly, and her lustrous, blond hair had gone gray. There was no light in her eyes.
Ashley fought the impulse to bolt from the room and forced herself to walk closer to the bed. She stared down, heartbroken. She had no urge to touch her mother. Casey Van Meter elicited no feelings of love. She just made Ashley feel uncomfortable.
When she thought she’d been in the room a decent amount of time, Ashley turned to Ann Rostow.
“Thank you. I think I’ll go now.”
“The first time you see someone in her condition, it can be very unsettling, especially if it’s someone you’re close to.”
“We weren’t close. She gave me away without a second thought when I was born. I knew her as the dean at the school I attended and nothing more.”
“But she may still be your mother,” Rostow said softly.
Ashley nodded.
“Then you can come back and visit anytime.”
“Thank you. I mentioned a DNA test. If we need a sample of Casey’s blood…”
“I’ll need a court order, but it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“One more thing, Ms. Rostow. Do the doctors think she’ll get better?”
“I’ve sat in on meetings when Mr. Van Meter asked that very question. Dr. Linscott always answered that the odds on a full recovery for Ms. Van Meter were very long.”