Bridget reached for it. I held it against my chest.
“Give me that.”
“No.”
“You have no business going through my car.”
“You put my things in it.”
“I was trying to help you.”
“Help me do what?”
She glanced toward the house, then toward the street. Her church bulletin slipped from her hand and landed on the driveway.
“Eleanor, you are upset. You need to sit down.”
“I am sitting down,” I said. “You are the one who needs to answer me.”
“Good.”
“He will explain this.”
“I hope he does.”
She moved away from the car and called him again. I could hear only her side of the conversation.
“Your mother changed the locks,” she said. “She is confused, and she is taking things out of my car.”
I looked at the silver chest.
“Tell him what is in the box,” I said.
Bridget turned her back to me. “I am not arguing with you in the driveway.”
Her shoulders tightened.
That was when I saw Ronnie’s truck at the end of the street. He had kept his word and parked around the corner. He came up the sidewalk slowly, carrying nothing, and stopped when he saw Bridget between me and the car.
“Everything all right, Miss Eleanor?” he asked.
“No,” Bridget said. “She is having some kind of episode.”
Ronnie looked at me instead of answering her. “Do you want me to stay?”
“Yes, please.”
Bridget gave a short, disbelieving laugh. “You called a locksmith to stand guard over you?”
“I called him to change my locks. He decided to stay nearby.”
Ronnie nodded. “That is what happened.”
She stared at him. “You cannot just lock me out.”
Ronnie did not respond. He was not there to decide who had a right to the house, and I was grateful he understood that.
A few minutes later, Curtis pulled into the drive. He got out and looked from Bridget to me, then at the new lock.
“Mom, what happened?”
“Your wife put my silver chest in her car.”
Bridget spoke over me. “She is confused and she went through my things.”
