Out of Control
Prologue

Twenty-seven-year-old Libby Turner walked into her parents’ house and their heated conversation without being noticed. Not that she was trying to sneak in and eavesdrop; she’d been invited to dinner and let herself in with her key.

Hearing their raised voices caught her by surprise. Her parents never argued unless it was about her grandmother. And lately, that topic was becoming an everyday occurrence. She knew because her mother called her almost daily to complain about it.

Libby walked as far as the archway leading to the large formal living room and halted, waiting for them to notice she was there. Her mother was sitting on her fancy settee like a lady of royalty, dressed in a tailored linen pantsuit and heels, pearls in her ears and around her slender throat. As far as Libby knew she was the only one invited to dinner. But, that was her mother.

Always poised and dressed to perfection. Her father was pacing the room as she’d seen him do so many times while growing up. The lion’s expression on his face warned her he’d made up his mind and was determined to see it through, to his liking. Libby guessed by his expensive suit that he hadn’t been home from work for very long. He was a successful lawyer with his own firm and well known for his tenacity.

“We have no choice but to put her into an assisted living facility,” her father said with strong conviction.

“After what happened last weekend she can’t remain living on her own anymore.”

“But—”

“No, Doris. Your mother’s seventy-nine years old. She could have burned the place down! Are you prepared for the financial consequences?”

Her mother released a sound of annoyance. “But she didn’t.”

“Only because someone saw the smoke before it became a fire. Thank God there was a fireman present; what are the odds to that?”

“For goodness sake, it was outdoors, a barbeque. It was an accident.”

“My point exactly, Doris. It was an accident. And not the first one, I might add. Remember when she left the faucet on in the tub and then went to play bingo for three hours? The place was flooded…”

“That could happen to anyone.”

“What about the time Rufus climbed up on the roof and she climbed up there on a ladder to get her, and the ladder fell, leaving her stuck up there almost all night?”

“That was two years ago.” Her tone revealed her frustration level was rising, right along with her b***d pressure, too, if Libby knew her mother. “Do you always have to remember the worst?”

“Well, what happens next time? What happens if she falls and breaks a leg or a h*p and lays there for days before someone notices they haven’t seen her for a while? What happens if—?”

“Enough, John! You’ve made your point! You’ve wanted to put mother into one of those…those places for years now. You know this will kill her. She’s been so independent since Daddy died.”

His tone dropped down a notch, and Libby knew that was only because he sensed he was gaining ground. “It’s for her own good, dear. We can’t be with her twenty-four hours a day. And hiring a live-in is out of the question. It’s too expensive and you know as well as I do she won’t take money from us. Not to mention it would be a nightmare trying to replace someone we can trust.”

“She has her own money.” Her mother’s tone sounded dejected.

“Which will barely pay for her to move to an assisted living complex.”

“There has to be another solution, John.”

“Well, if you can think of something, I’m all ears.”

“Well, I think…”

Libby swung away from her parents with a heavy heart, stepping into the family room. She turned toward the picture window that faced the pond outside their home and promptly tuned them out. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. They were actually discussing putting her beloved grandmother into an old folks’ home, as though she were an old gray mare needing to be put out to pasture.

Sure, her mother wasn’t a hundred percent on board with it, but Libby knew it was just a matter of time until she gave in. She always did. However, there was one thing she agreed with her mother about. This kind of move would surely kill her grandmother.

Sighing, Libby folded her arms, wondering how her grandmother would cope under those conditions after living on her own for so long. She couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t been full of spunk and life. She lived life to the fullest, and she loved the retirement community she lived in.

It wasn’t fair to take her away from all her old friends. If her parents took away her bingo nights, the craft workshops, and the morning coffee and doughnut gatherings at the clubhouse, they might as well forget about an assisted living place and just throw her in the loony bin. They would break her spirit. As her mother said, there had to be another way.

She sank down onto the built-in window bench, her gaze drifting to the TV. Her parents must have muted it earlier in order to discuss their current dilemma without being distracted. Libby’s father liked to have her mother’s undivided attention whenever he felt they were having a life-altering conversation.

Steering her into the other room was his way of controlling the situation. Either that or her mother had been trying to get away from him. She laughed quietly to herself.

She watched the TV screen for a moment, smiling when she realized she was viewing the preview for Mrs. Doubtfire, the movie where Robin Williams dressed up as a woman in order to become his children’s nanny. She’d always loved that movie; it was hilarious and one of her favorite comedies.

Her smile slowly faded as an idea began to take shape in her mind. An alternative that would allow her grandmother to stay where she was, and not give up her current lifestyle. It would require a lot of creativity and hard work. Pulling it off wouldn’t be easy.

Could even be costly. But Libby loved her grandmother and would do anything to help her remain in her home, where she’d be happiest.

The only question was—would her outrageous plan work?