She retraced her steps and turned left into the kitchen. I trailed behind, trying to tread as quietly as she did. The kitchen like the living room and bedroom had undergone a transformation. The same appliances were in place, yellowed with age, but now a brand-new microwave sat on the counter, which was otherwise bare. Everything was clean and it looked like the kitchen curtains had been laundered, ironed and rehung.

     In a  belated answer to my query, she said, “He has good days and bad. At his age they don’t bounce back so quick. He’s made progress, but it’s two steps forward, three steps back.”

     “I gathered as much. I know his niece is concerned about his mental state.”

     The animation dropped like a veil falling away from her face. “You talked to her?”

     “She called me yesterday. She said when they talked on the phone he seemed confused. She asked if I’d noticed any change in him. I haven’t seen him for weeks so I really couldn’t say, but I told her I’d stop in.”     “His memory isn’t what it was. I explained that to her. If she has questions about his care she should address them to me.” Her tone was slightly testy and the color had risen in her cheeks.

    “She isn’t worried about his care. She was wondering if I’d picked up on anything myself. She said you suspected dementia…”

     “I never said any such thing.”

     “You didn’t?’ Maybe I’m mistaken, but I thought she said you’d mentioned early signs of dementia.”

      ‘She misunderstood. I said dementia was one of several possibilities. It could be hypothyroidism or a vitamin B deficiency, both reversible with proper treatment. I wouldn’t presume to make a diagnosis. It’s not my place.”

     “She didn’t say you’d made any kind of claim. She was just alerting me to the situation.”

     “Situation.” She was looking at me intently, and I could see she’d somehow taken offense.

     “Sorry, I guess I’m not expressing myself well. She said he sounded confused on the phone and thought it might have been his medication or something like that. She said she called you right afterward and the two of you discussed it.”

     “And now she’s sent you to double-check.”

     “On him, not on you.”

     She broke off eye contact, her manner prickly and stiff. “It’s unfortunate she felt the need to have a conversation with you behind my back. Apparently, she wasn’t satisfied with my account.”

     “Honestly, she didn’t call to talk about you. She asked if I’d noticed any change in him.”

     Now her eyes bored into me, hot and dark. “So now you’re the doctor? Perhaps you’d like to see my notes. I keep a record of everything, which is what I was taught. Medications, blood pressure, his bowel movements. I’d be happy to send her a copy if she doubts my qualifications or my dedication to her uncle’s care.”

     I didn’t actually squint at her, but I felt myself focus on the skewed exchange. Was she nuts? I couldn’t seem to extract myself from the misinterpretations. I was afraid if I uttered two more sentences, she’d quit the job in a huff and Melanie would be up a tree. It was like being in the presence of a snake, first hissing its presence and then coiled in readiness. I didn’t dare turn my back or take my eyes off her. I stood very still. I let go of my fight-or-flight defense and decided to play dead. If you run from a bear, it gives chase. That’s the nature of the beast. Likewise a snake. If I moved she might strike.