“What if I can’t drive?” Prissy clutched her chest.
“As soon as we consult with the specialist, we’ll have a better idea of what we’re facing. We have plenty of room at Easton Estate. Depending on your level of…decline…you can move in with us. The last thing you need to do is worry about who and how you will be cared for.”
“I-I don’t know what to say,” she whispered. “Other than I’m scared.”
“And understandably so.” Elizabeth placed her hands on Prissy’s shoulders. “Whatever happens, I can assure you of one thing: we’ll get through this as a family.”
“Thank you.”
By the time Quinn and Tristan returned with lunch, Prissy was smiling, back to her old self.
The group gathered in the breakroom. While they ate, Tristan gave them a detailed rundown of his tour of the police station. “I got fingerprinted and everything.”
“Good heavens. Hopefully, Wyatt didn’t put you in handcuffs,” Elizabeth said.
“He did when we were sitting in his cop car. I turned the lights and siren on too.” Tristan shoved the rest of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich in his mouth. “When I get older, I’m going to be a police officer.”
“It’s a noble career but risky,” his great-grandmother said.
“I’ll have a gun.”
“The thought of you shooting someone is terrifying,” Elizabeth shuddered.
“But only the bad guys.” Tristan turned to Morgan. “Am I going home when we’re done?”
“Do you want to?”
“Yeah. I want to fly my drone.”
“Sure. Maybe I’ll even try it,” Morgan said.
“I’ll teach you. It’s easy.”
Tink.The front bell chimed, letting them know a gallery guest had arrived.
“Everyone stay here and finish your food.” Quinn slipped out of her chair. “I’ll help whoever it is.”
Morgan crumpled her food wrappers and tossed them in the trash. “Tristan and I are heading out.”
“Thank you for listening to an old woman babble on,” Prissy said.
“You weren’t babbling. I agree with Grandmother. The sooner you meet with a specialist, the better.” Morgan gave her a gentle hug. “You’ll be okay.”
“I hope so,” she whispered in a broken voice. “I could use your prayers if you don’t mind.”
“Absolutely.” Morgan offered her an encouraging smile. “God’s got this.”
“Yes, he does.”
During the drive to Easton Estate, Morgan thought about how terrifying it must be for Priscilla to face the fact that she was suffering from mental decline. Would the decline be slow and manageable? She hoped so, for Prissy’s sake.
*****
“It’s easy.” Tristan set his drone, a Christmas gift from Elizabeth and Gerard, on the ground and tapped the controls. The drone lifted off, hovering momentarily until it shot straight up in the air. It made a sharp right, twirled around and then zipped to the left.
Back and forth, Tristan expertly guided the drone high above the treetops and over the estate’s roof. It flew past and hovered over the garage before returning to almost the exact same spot it lifted off from.
“You make it look easy,” Morgan grimaced.
