Elizabeth cast a worried gaze toward the other room. “I wonder how long this has been going on.”
“She should get checked out,” Morgan said.
“Most definitely.” Elizabeth filled a cup with ice and water and returned to where Prissy sat waiting. “Here’s some water.”
“Thank you.” She daintily sipped it. “I’m feeling better already.”
“Did you drive here?” Morgan asked, growing more alarmed by the minute.
“I did. My car is parked out behind the Easton Harbor Beacon.” Priscilla finished her water and stood. “I think I’ll go home and take a nap.”
“Home out on Gravel Ridge Road?” Elizabeth asked.
“Gravel Ridge?” Prissy made a clicking sound with her teeth. “That house was torn down years ago.”
“What about Lawrence?”
Prissy touched her arm. “Are you feeling all right? Lawrence died a long time ago.”
“I’m feeling fine. You told Morgan and me that Lawrence was in Port Huron and would be home later.”
“I did? Oh, no.” The woman collapsed onto the bench seat. “It’s happening again.”
Chapter 9
Elizabeth eased in next to her sister-in-law. “Your mind is slipping.”
“I…it must be. I noticed Lawrence’s old clothes laid out on the chair this morning and freaked out for a second. I must have done it when I zoned out.” Prissy rambled on, barely taking a breath, as if she needed to explain what was happening as quickly as possible.
Morgan and her grandmother quietly listened until she finished.
“How long has this been going on?” Elizabeth finally asked.
“A while, but it seems to be getting worse.” Tears streamed down Priscilla’s face, and Morgan could feel herself tearing up.
The only outward sign of Elizabeth’s reaction was a slight trembling of her hand when she reached for Prissy’s. “We’ll figure this out together. We have a highly regarded geriatrician in residency here on the island. It could take some rearranging for him to fit you in, but I believe I can pull a few strings and get you an appointment rather quickly.”
“I feel like I’m losing my mind, literally.” Prissy fumbled inside her purse and pulled out a handful of wadded-up tissues. “What will I do?”
“Stay here with Morgan. I’ll be back.” Elizabeth left, and Quinn and Tristan appeared. “We’re going to go grab some food.”
“I think that’s a great idea. The restaurant down the street has some of the best tourtière and homemade fries on the island, other than Mrs. Arnsby’s of course.”
“What about you, Prissy?” Quinn asked.
“I don’t…”
Morgan gave her a gentle pat. “She’ll take a meat pie and fries too.”
“Are you okay?” Tristan asked.
“I’ll be fine.” Prissy forced a smile. “What a sweet boy for asking.”
“We won’t be long,” Quinn promised, ushering the boy out of the gallery.
Moments later, Elizabeth returned. “I left a message for Peter Carlisle, who sits on the board of Easton Harbor Hospital. He has connections and will help us set up an appointment with one of the best geriatricians in the country.”
“Losing your memory can be a slow process, taking years before you get to where you’re no longer self-sufficient,” Morgan said.
