“We could bring the kids’ desk sets over Saturday,” Renee said, her voice speeding up as she gazed around the high ceiling.

“Chloe could have the corner room by the citrus trees.”

I reached into my canvas handbag on the chair, took out a stapled nine-page court document, and laid it flat on top of the recorded deed.

The blue county filing stamp across the top read Emergency Petition for Temporary Conservatorship of Estate.

Daniel looked down at his own signature at the bottom of page three.

“You told me this was for updating my medical insurance,” I said.