“Does your father have cognitive impairment?”
Fiona said nothing.
“I’ve spoken with Samuel recently,” Naomi continued.
“He has Parkinson’s disease.”
“His body is affected.”
“His mind is not.”
Then she asked my parents directly whether anyone had pressured them.
Mom began crying.
Dad placed his trembling hand on her arm.
“Tell her, Reenie.”
Mom finally spoke.
Gregory had taken her phone five days earlier.
He told her she was calling me too often.
He warned that if they refused to sign, he would tell doctors Dad was incapable of caring for himself.
He threatened that Dad could be placed somewhere Mom couldn’t visit.
But if they signed?
“At least you can go together.”
I took one step toward Gregory.
Naomi immediately placed her hand against my chest.
“Lucas.”
“Don’t.”
I stopped.
Mom then explained how she managed to call me.
Owen had taken her phone from Gregory’s truck while he was showering.
“Call Uncle Lucas, Grandma.”
Owen had also texted me himself.
Gregory turned toward his sixteen-year-old son.
“You went through my truck?”
Owen stood.
His hands shook.
“Yeah.”
“And I texted Uncle Lucas.”
“You were yelling at Grandpa.”
“He’s sick, Dad.”
Then he looked at Fiona.
“And Mom just stood there.”
Gregory ordered him to sit down.
Owen didn’t.
“No.”
Twelve minutes later, a sheriff’s vehicle arrived.
Deputy Hanna Lindqvist listened to Naomi.
Inspected the deed.
The documents.
The box.
Then looked directly at Gregory.
“The property owner has asked you to leave.”
Gregory protested.
“This is my wife’s parents’ house.”
“No, sir.”
“You were guests.”
“The residents and owner have revoked that permission.”
“At this point, remaining here would be trespassing.”
Then she addressed the attempted coercion involving elderly adults.
She told Gregory a report would be filed with Adult Protective Services.
Gregory finally turned toward Fiona.
“Get the boys.”
She didn’t move.
“Fiona. Now.”
She looked at Owen.
Caleb.
Our father.
Then at Gregory.
“No.”
He blinked.
“What?”
“I’m not going with you.”
Not that night.
Maybe not ever.
Gregory eventually walked out alone.
Afterward, the deputy took my parents’ statements.
Slowly.
Gently.
Before leaving, she crouched beside Dad.
Her own father had lived with Parkinson’s disease.
“You did well today, Mr. Sinclair.”
“You didn’t sign.”
Dad looked down.
“I almost did.”
“I had the pen in my hand.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“I didn’t.”
That evening, Naomi took the documents with her.
Before leaving she told me,
“You were right to keep the title.”
I admitted that sometimes I had felt guilty.
As though protecting the property that way meant I didn’t trust my own family.
“Don’t feel guilty.”
“Sometimes loving people means making it impossible for someone else to take advantage of them.”
“That isn’t coldness.”
“It’s a lock on a door.”
Fiona stayed behind.
I found her sitting on the porch overlooking the ocean.
Eventually, she told me the truth.
She and Gregory had lost their house in Bend two months earlier.
Foreclosure.
Gregory hadn’t sold a property in more than a year.
Credit cards.
Loans.
A secret second mortgage.
They had spent weeks living in a motel before coming to Cannon Beach.
The boys thought it was a vacation.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Fiona laughed bitterly.
Tell Lucas?
The successful younger brother?
The one who built a company and bought their parents a beach house in cash?
She confessed she had become jealous.
Humiliated.
When I bought the house without involving her, it became another reminder that she felt like the sibling who needed help.
When Gregory suggested staying at the coast, she knew what he was thinking.
She pretended not to.
Then he asked questions about the property.
She ignored it.
Then he began discussing assisted living.
She told herself our parents genuinely needed help.
Then he took Mom’s phone.
And Fiona still did nothing.
“Because if I challenged him, he would turn on me.”
“And we had nowhere else to go.”
I asked whether Gregory had ever hurt her or the boys.
She stared at the ocean.
“Never with his hands.”
That told me enough.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“I don’t know who I became.”
“I stood there drinking Grandma’s wine while Dad was shaking.”
