Every Evening, My Husband Tipped Two Drops From a Small Dark Glass Bottle Into My Tea

“Listen to what you’re saying.”

“I have proof right here,” I said, reaching for my purse strap.

“You sound like you’re unraveling, Aunt Margaret,” Chloe said, dropping her voice to a tight whisper.

“You’re turning ordinary business calls into an awful conspiracy.”

“I know what I heard in that hallway,” I said.

“You need to see a specialist in Columbus,” Chloe said, her eyes steady.

“If you won’t make the appointment, I’m going to call Daniel and make it for you.”