The fourth month began with an argument about a missing debit card. Evelyn had asked to buy fresh flowers for Walt's birthday, a tradition she intended to keep even if he was no longer there to enjoy them. Brenda said the card had been misplaced and that there was no reason for Evelyn to carry it when someone else was handling her shopping. By evening, the flowers had not been bought, and Evelyn found herself apologizing for raising the subject.
She began keeping a small list of things she wanted to ask. Why had the bank stopped sending statements to the kitchen? Why did the grocery receipts include expensive items she never saw? Why had her niece's Christmas card not arrived, even though the niece had promised to send photographs? The list lived beneath Walt's old recipe book until Brenda found it while cleaning and demanded to know why Evelyn was keeping records of her work.
"I'm just trying to remember things," Evelyn said, reaching for the paper. Brenda lifted it beyond her grasp and read each question aloud in a mocking voice. She asked whether Evelyn thought she was a thief and whether this was how years of professional experience should be repaid. By the end of the exchange, Evelyn was crying, and the list had been torn into pieces over the wastebasket.
There were moments of kindness afterward, which made everything harder to understand. Brenda would bring home a pastry from the bakery or place a blanket over Evelyn's knees as though nothing unpleasant had happened. She would speak warmly to a delivery driver and thank the pharmacist with professional courtesy. Watching her, Evelyn wondered whether the cruelty she experienced was somehow something she provoked, because nobody else seemed to see it.
The financial losses accelerated. Purchases appeared on Evelyn's credit cards at stores she had never visited, while transfers from savings to checking disguised how quickly the total balance was falling. Brenda used reassuring language whenever the subject arose, explaining that medical expenses were high or that repairs to the house had cost more than expected. Evelyn had not approved those expenses, but she had become afraid to ask for proof.
When she did ask, Brenda shifted the conversation to Evelyn's memory. She reminded her of the burned saucepan, the forgotten pills, and the time she had mistaken Tuesday for Wednesday. Each example had actually happened, and none justified taking control of every account. Yet a person who doubts her own recollection is easier to persuade that the missing facts must be hiding somewhere in the part of her mind she can no longer trust.
By the fifth month, the insults had become routine. Brenda snapped when Evelyn moved too slowly and rolled her eyes when a cup slipped from her hands. She referred to her client as helpless, childish, and impossible to satisfy, often within earshot as though humiliation were another household chore. Evelyn began watching Brenda's face before speaking, calculating which expression meant it was safe to ask for water or mention discomfort.
The first bruises appeared after an afternoon when Evelyn tried to retrieve her checkbook. Brenda grabbed her wrist to stop her from opening a drawer and held it hard enough that Evelyn cried out. She released her with a look of surprise, as though the cry had been unexpected rather than the force itself. Then she told Evelyn that fragile skin bruised easily and that she should be more careful about pulling away.