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Vanderbilts, and though she’d carefully prepared only things she knew her mother liked, nothing had gone as Joan planned.
    She’d felt a faint flicker of hope when she first led her mother into the room. Emily stopped short when she stepped through the dining room doors, her eyes moving through the room, lingering on the gleaming silver and crystal that shimmered in the flickering candlelight.
It’s going to be all right,
Joan had told herself. But then Emily said, “How could you light all those candles? Don’t you even care about what happened?”
    “I was just trying to make it nice for you, Mother,” Joan ventured as she helped the old woman into the chair opposite Matt.
    “Why bother? You know you don’t want me here.” Emily peered balefully at her son-in-law and grandson. “And I don’t want to be here.”
    Joan did her best to keep a conversation going, but no matter what she said, her mother either ignored her, disagreed with her, or changed the subject.
    Emily glowered at the plate of food Joan set in front of her, and after objecting that she’d been served far too much, asked if the chicken was spoiled. “Nobody could eat this,” she declared.
    “It’s good, Gram,” Matt said.
    “It’s rotten,” Emily said, pushing her plate away. “Take me home.”
    Joan silently appealed to her husband.
    “You are home, Mother Moore,” Bill said. Seeing Emily’s eyes flash, he quickly added, “At least for a while, until we can decide what would be best for you.”
    It was as if Emily hadn’t heard him. “Where’s Cynthia?” she asked. “Why isn’t she here? I want Cynthia!” She stood up, pushing her chair back from the table so abruptly that it fell over. As Joan and Bill leaped up to help her, she brushed them aside. “Leave me alone. I’m going to find Cynthia.”
    Emily left the dining room and Joan started after her, but Bill caught her arm. “Let her go,” he said.
    “But she doesn’t know what she’s doing,” Joan protested. “She barely even knows her way around.”
    “Matt can keep an eye on her,” Bill replied. Then, to his son: “Don’t try to argue with her, Matt, and don’t try to make her do anything. Just keep an eye on her and don’t let her hurt herself. Okay?”
    Only when Matt was gone and he’d closed the dining room door did Bill speak to his wife again. “This isn’t going to work,” he said gently.
    “I can make it work,” Joan began. “All she needs is a few days, and she’ll know her way — ”
    Bill held up a hand to cut the flow of his wife’s words. “She won’t know anything. And she won’t get better.” His voice took on a slight edge. “You know she won’t, Joan. Every doctor we’ve talked to for the last two years has told you she’ll only get worse.” He hesitated, then pressed on. “We have to find a place for her. A place where they can take care of her.”
    Joan shook her head. “Bill, she’s my mother! And when all this started — when she first got sick — I promised that no matter what happened, I’d never put her into a nursing home. I promised I’d take care of her myself. I can’t just put her away!”
    “It wouldn’t be putting her away — it wouldn’t be anything like that. We’ll find the best place in the area, and we can hire around-the-clock care if you want. And you’ll be able to visit her every day.”
    Joan shook her head. “I can’t,” she repeated, her voice trembling. “I promised her! She’s my — ”
    Again Bill cut her off, and when he spoke this time, the edge in his voice had sharpened. “I know she’s your mother, but I also know how she treats you. Most of the time she has no idea who I am, and as for Matt — ”
    “I know,” Joan said, breaking in before he could finish his indictment. “But what am I supposed to do? Could you have broken a promise you made to your father?”
    As Joan’s tears overflowed, Bill put his arms around her. “I know,” he said. “I know how