Eleanor sat in her favorite armchair, her eyes dreamy and far away.
A gentle rap on the door jolted her out of her daydream. Nurse Claire peeked in, her pleasant smile brightening the quiet room.
“Ma’am, you have a visitor,” she said in her usual soft, soothing tone.
“A visitor? Well, let them in, dear,” she replied, her voice carrying a hint of anticipation.
Moments later, the sound of polished shoes on the wooden floor signaled the entrance of her son, Andrew.
He greeted, “Mother,” with a clipped tone and a false smile.
Eleanor’s expression brightened. “Andrew, what a pleasant surprise,”
Andrew didn’t waste any time with small talk. He brought out a slick folder and set it on the tiny table next to her chair.
“Mother, I need you to sign these papers,” he began, speaking quickly and efficiently.
Eleanor blinked, her thin hands lingering above the folder.
Before she could pick up the pen, Nurse Claire took a step forward, her usually soft look steely.
“Ma’am,” she interjected, her voice steady, “perhaps it’s best to review these documents later. It’s been a long day, and you need your rest.”
Eleanor glanced at them, puzzled yet compliant.
“Alright, Andrew. We’ll do it later,” she whispered, her faith in him unshaken despite her nurse’s interference.
Andrew stood abruptly, irritation on his face.
“Fine. I’ll be back tomorrow,” he muttered, turning on his heel and leaving without saying anything else.
As the sound of his footsteps receded, Claire crouched behind Eleanor’s chair, her voice softening. “Are you alright?”
“He’s my son, Claire,” she added, her voice full of emotion. “He only wants what’s best… doesn’t he?”
For illustrative purposes only.“Of course, Ma’am,” she said, but doubt lingered in her gaze.
Nurse Claire wheeled Eleanor along the stone walkway, taking care to keep the trip pleasant.
Claire paused, her words trapped between her heart and her lips.
“Ma’am,” she replied tentatively. “I know it’s not my place, but Andrew… he doesn’t seem to have your best interests at heart.”
Eleanor chuckled softly, her weak hands lying in her lap. “Oh, Claire, he’s my son. He’s just ambitious. That’s not a bad thing.”
“Ambitious? Maybe. But he doesn’t see you as his mother. He sees you as a means to an end. If you give him control of your finances, he’ll forget about you. He’s already left you here, hasn’t he?”
Claire pressed on, her voice becoming stronger.
“This nursing home is struggling. Soon, it might have to close. If you invested in it instead, you’d secure your comfort here and help others in need.”
Claire sighed, looking at the fountain as if hoping it had the answer she couldn’t provide. The water gleamed in the sunlight, but no clarity emerged.
She tenderly grasped Eleanor’s hand. “I hope you’re right,” she said, but the skepticism in her voice lingered.
The low hum of voices in the hallway announced the start of another busy day at the nursing home.
For illustrative purposes only.The door flung open unexpectedly, and Andrew stepped inside, his polished shoes tapping against the wooden floor.
“Mother, good to see you again,” Andrew said quickly, offering a brief smile.
“Just sign here, here, and here,” he said, tapping the designated locations with a pen.
Claire, who had been quietly observing from the doorway, felt her stomach turn. “Ma’am…” she said cautiously, taking a step forward.
Eleanor raised a hand, her voice gentle yet forceful. “It’s alright, Claire. I trust my son.”
She picked up the pen with unwavering conviction. Her fingers trembled slightly as she signed each line, but her expression was calm.
“Thank you, Mother. You won’t regret this,” he murmured, already halfway out the door.
“I’m so sorry. No one deserves to be treated like that by their own child.”
“Don’t be sorry, dear,” she said quietly. “What goes around comes around.”
Claire examined Eleanor’s face, looking for any signs of regret or hesitation, but found none.
Claire went inside with a pale face and worried eyes.
For illustrative purposes only.“Ma’am,” Claire said, her voice wavering. “I need to tell you something.”
Claire took a deep breath and wrung her hands uncomfortably. “Andrew… he stopped paying your nursing home bills. We… we have no choice but to ask you to leave by the end of the week.”
“It’s alright, Claire,” she said gently. “Things will work out. They always do.”
Before Claire could react, a harsh knock interrupted them. A deliveryman appeared with a huge bouquet of white lilies and a sealed letter for Eleanor.
She handed Eleanor the flowers and opened the envelope, revealing a nicely folded note. Clearing her throat, she started reading aloud.
“I will never forget what you did for me. When I had nothing, you gave me a place to stay and helped me get back on my feet. You changed my life. Please accept this small token of gratitude.”
Eleanor adjusted her spectacles, her fingers quivering as she took the note. Her eyes examined the signature, and her face lit up with recognition.
“I remember him,” she murmured. “A homeless boy, years ago. I never imagined…”
“Ma’am, with the flowers came an enormous donation. It’s enough to save the nursing home and renovate it. There’s only one condition: that you’re taken care of in every way.”
“What goes around comes around, Claire. It always does.”
