Logline In an attempt to become the beneficiary of an elderly woman’s eighty-three million dollar estate before she is declared mentally inc

FORWARD

Lyra parked her car in the staff lot of Primrose Path nursing home where she had spent the last fourteen months working three, twelve hour shifts a week. Ten of those months she had dedicated every ounce of compassion, patience and friendship she had to her favorite patient, Mrs. O'Toole.

Colleen O'Toole is extremely wealthy and barely holding onto her senility, and as of seven months ago, a widow.

Mr. O'Toole passed in his sleep last September after a lengthy battle with multiple sclerosis, leaving his entire eight-digit estate to his beloved wife. Despite thousands of hours of prayer and devotion to Saint Catherine, Colleen was never able to carry a child to term, leaving them with no heir to the fortune, so the money would die with her.

For nearly a year, Lyra had been working her mark. Drawing Colleen in with vulnerable and tragic stories of her childhood in foster care <true>. Her parents killed in a car crash <lie>, an only child with no family to take her in <lie>. Simultaneously she kept her guard up with dramatic silences so Colleen could experience the pleasure of coaxing her out of her pain, like an adoring mother. Days and weeks and months of emotional manipulation, plotting and scheming had resulted in Colleen loving Lyra with all she had left. Not able to turn back time and provide a mother's love to Lyra, she offers the only thing she has left that could make up for such a tragic life. Eighty-three million dollars.

As she twisted to reach into the back seat for her work bag, her stomach summersaulted, sending a rush of blood to her head and she thought she might vomit. Turning herself back around to face front she grips the steering wheel, plants both feet against the floorboard and pushes all her weight back into the seat, locking her arms at the elbow. She begins breathing deep into her nostrils and out through her mouth. Sweat is beading on her upper lip, her ears begin to pulse with a distant buzzing sound that grows louder with each exhale. Unable to ward off the rising panic in her chest, she quickly flings her door open and violently launches her breakfast all over the pavement. Gasping for air as the bile scorches her throat and steals her breath she sways, half her body hanging out the car door until the tears in her eyes cleared and she can pull herself upright.

Reaching again for her backpack in the back seat, she rummages in the front pocket for tissue. Using the visor mirror to check her face, she locks eyes with herself. Her eyes are her signature feature and Colleen never let a day go by without telling her that she could have any man she wanted with eyes like that.

"If Helen of Troy had a face that launched a thousand ships, then you my dear command a legion with one glance."

Her eyes are so large they make her face look disproportionately small by comparison. She was bullied her entire childhood for her eyes. They called her Brat, like the knock off barbie doll with huge eyes and drag queen make-up. In her twenties however, Anime hit it big and her eyes became the envy of every cosplay groupie air-bender whatever you call them. Even more unique, their coloring is a moody silver-gray, always reflecting light from under thick dark brown lashes that curled half way to her eyebrows. They were her father's eyes. That made it difficult for her to appreciate them, but she has gotten more comfortable with using them to her advantage. Her father didn't die in a car crash; nor her mother. In fact, his matching set can only be seen now through the steel bars of Pennsylvania state penitentiary where he is serving year thirteen of his twenty-five-year sentence for armed robbery. His sentence would have carried far fewer years had he not accidentally shot and killed her mother trying to evade arrest.

Lyra pulled her water bottle from the side pocket of her bag. As she sipped the water she forced her heart rate to slow with her breathing. She ran through the outline of her day that she'd been memorizing for weeks. Everything had to go according to plan, and she had only left sparse opportunity to pivot should certain interactions not go to plan. Glancing at her dashboard clock she pulls herself out of the door, careful to avoid stepping in the pile of breakfast on the ground. She scans the parking lot for any potential witnesses to her panic puking and breathes a sigh of relief. She hikes her backpack on, slams the car door shut and clips her identity badge to the pocket of her scrub top. As she half-heartedly jogs towards the staff entrance of The Primrose with three minutes to clock in, she says to herself

Pull it together Ly, Today is beneficiary day.

CHAPTER ONE

MEETING COLLEEN

The day she met Colleen properly was the morning after her probationary term was complete. Until that day, Lyra only shadowed other nursing assistants at Primrose, but was strictly forbidden from interacting with them directly without express permission from Everly.

"Good morning Mrs. O'Toole" Lyra said with a gentle two-tap knock on the door of Colleen's private garden room. She was carrying a breakfast tray in one hand and her morning vitals checklist under her arm. As the day-shift lead, Everly was in charge of all patient care protocols for day-shift workers, and she was particularly proud of her vitals checklist. Using her free hand Lyra pulled the rolling overbed table towards the bottom of the bed and placed the tray of scrambled eggs, fruit and toast on top. In doing so she accidentally slid the television remote and a crossword book and pen off the table and onto Colleen's feet. She startled awake with a silent jump, clutching her sheet in her tiny pink fists.

Lyra winced and whispered an apology with only the slightest of a smile.

"Oh, don't worry dear, no need. I was having a bit of a nightmare I think" she said as she struggled to sit up and reach for her water glass on the table hovering over her feet. There was hardly anything to the woman. She couldn't have been more than eighty-five pounds. Immediately Lyra noticed that though her hands were skin and bones her fingernails were thick like bird talons, hooking slightly over the tips of her fingers and painted expertly with a glossy shade of magenta polish. The youthfulness of the color a stark contrast to the splattering of liver spots that covered nearly all of her porcelain skin.

"My name is Lyra, and I brought you your breakfast. I'm here to assist you to the bathroom if you need it and take your morning vitals" she recited from memory with as much saccharine in her voice she could possibly muster.

Everly reminded her every day of her training that her tone of voice was too menacing. Residents needed to be woken with a cheerful demeanor in order to start their day in a positive manner. "The less opportunity you give them to be combative with you, the better your day and their day will be, and that all starts with the tone you set in your voice."

Lyra could hear Everly's stupid songbird voice at this very moment echoing from the hallway 'rise and shine' as she closed the door.

"I swear that woman's pitch is higher than her ponytail," Colleen jested as she attempted to move her legs from under the enormous quilt covering her bed. It was far too large for the bed and hung down to the floor on every side, but it was her wedding quilt. It had been passed down through four generations of her family and was remarkably heavy. Though it was worn and faded by the torture of the war and famine it had endured over the nearly 150 years since it was made, the stitching and delicate pattern work was classically beautiful in shades of buttercream and luscious greens. Miniature squares of mint and sage blended into tones of emerald and avocado, building themselves gradually inward toward the largest square in the middle, a dark forest green with a hand stitched Celtic trinity knot pattern of golden thread at its center.

Lyra reached for the quilt, folding it over itself to expose Colleen's twiggy legs. The skin across her shin bones was translucent like the wings of a dragonfly. Her calves were still long and lean, with no sign of varicose veins. Both were freckled with more liver spots and small flecks of old purple bruising peeking out from under her posy-pink sleeping gown. As Lyra watched Colleen scrunch her feet into her petite Isotoner slippers she noticed that her toenails were painted perfectly with the same magenta polish as her fingers.

"You must have an amazing manicurist in the family, your polish job is about as perfect as I've ever seen." Lyra commented as she hoisted Colleen to her feet from under her armpits.

Colleen placed her shaky hands-on top of Lyra's, spreading her fingers apart so they could both admire them before quickly grasping her wrists to steady herself.

"No dear, no family manicurist. Jakob paints them for me, every two weeks. You know Jakob, don't you? He is the most beautiful man I've ever seen. Calls me Queen, I am quite fond of him, and he's a whiz with the polish."

"Yes, I know Jakob, he's a friend. He does have amazing skin doesn't he? And those cheekbones?" Lyra said as she sucked in her cheeks as hard as she could to mimic Jakob's model bone structure.

Colleen paused her shuffling towards the toilet and turned to face Lyra directly. She watched her slowly take in the dramatic traits of her face, lingering purposefully on the eyes. She placed one freezing cold hand on Lyra's cheek and smiled.

"Come now, you don't even need skin with eyes like that."

"Let's get your situated in here. Do you need me to lower you, or can you manage" Lyra asked, quickly moving on from the all too familiar examination of her eyes.

"I can get my business done myself. I'll call for you when I'm done." Colleen said as she slowly shuffled her feet to grab onto the sink and lower herself to the toilet seat.

No other resident had a bath suite like this. While all the other patients Lyra cared for had personal items from home to soften the clinically sterile boarding suites, Colleen's décor could easily be mistaken for a powder room at the Plaza hotel. The woman could easily be sitting down for afternoon tea instead of her morning piss.

Lyra made herself busy tidying as Colleen took her time on the toilet. She moved towards the window at the far side of the room, pulling back heavy polyester curtains and gathering them to rest in the ornate holdbacks. She adjusted the top-down-bottom-up shade to the midpoint to allow the morning light to warm the room without being blinded. Next to the window sat a wingback chair upholstered in a pattern of pale lavender primroses with trailing loops of ivy connecting the blooms. She plucked the child size bathrobe draped over the back and tossed it over her shoulder. Moving to the bed to straighten the quilt a photo on the sideboard caught her eye. Many residents used this piece of furniture that came installed in every patient room for photos, usually many photos of children or grandchildren, often smiling back at her from under a graduation cap or a wedding gown. Most commonly there was a show in numbers with grandparents at the center and ten or twenty bodies smooshed in a frame from some back yard family reunion. Colleen had one photo. It was clearly her, in a plain but elegant white church suit. Five large fabric buttons down the front from neck to navel and a figure-hugging pencil skirt, a little too long for a woman of Colleen's petite stature. The only embellishment pulling from the natural beauty of the bride was a glittering broach pinned just below her left collar point. A classic Audrey Hepburn fascinator hat pinned to her head, slightly off center with a short length of white netting, acting as a veil.

The man standing beside her, presumably Mr. O'Toole, was not looking at the camera, but gleaming with pride at his beautiful bride. His suit was also plain, dark brown but smart looking even though the jacket was a tad too big in the shoulders and hung a bit too far past his waist. His shoes polished to a shine, much like his hair which was greased with a hard, exaggerated part to one side.

Lyra imagined their life as a couple, letting flashes of memories of her own parents mingle in her brain with the idealistic couple in the picture. The contrast was stark. The only photo she'd ever seen of her parents makeshift wedding was of the two of them standing next to a black Camero held together with rust and dust. Both were as young as the O'Toole's but not at all put together. Her father wore faded denim Levi's with a tight-fitting white t-shirt. The only resemblance of any effort was a black satin clip-on bowtie around his neck. His hair was blond and wavy, longer in the back than on top. He had one arm linked with her mother's and with the other he threw up devil's horns made with his pointer and pinky finger. His eyes open wide with excitement and his tongue hanging out of his mouth like a rock star. Her mother wore cutoff shorts and a white frilly peasant top with long sleeves, showing her middle that had not yet begun to show proof of baby Lyra growing inside. Her long brown hair parted down the middle and she held a small bouquet of wildflowers that she lifted toward the bright blue sky as she kicked one foot behind her, showing off a dirty brown cowboy boot. Remembering the picture from memory, Lyra realized that to anyone that wasn't there to witness it, no one could ever tell it was their official wedding photo.

A clattering in the bathroom pulled Lyra from her memories and she replaced the framed wedding photo on the sideboard and rushed to the bathroom suite.

"You okay in there?"

"I called out twice. My toes are starting to fall asleep"

"I'm so sorry Mrs. O'Toole, I didn't hear you," Lyra said as she slowly pulled the door open and found Colleen on the floor, sitting on her feet, holding the side of the sink to steady herself.

"I used all my strength to stand up and didn't have any left to get to the sink. I used to be so strong Lyra, now look at me" Colleen huffed in defeat.

Lyra bent at the knees into a full squat and got her arms under Colleen's armpits and placed her frail arms around her own neck. "On the count of three I'm going to stand up and you just hang on okay, I'll do all the work."

As she raised Colleen off the floor to a standing position, she realized she may as well be hoisting a bag of flour. She was so tiny.

As they both stood face to face a loud knock sounded at the door of Colleen's room.

"Good morning! How are we doing in here?" Everly's voice filled the room, jolting Lyra into panic. She sucked in a breath and her eyes widened as she recognized the voice and looked at Colleen sharply.

"I won't say anything if you don't." Colleen whispered to Lyra with a smirk.

"In here, just give us a moment." Lyra stammered as she moved to Colleen's side and braced her around the waist before opening the bathroom door.

"Everything alright with morning check?" Everly bubbled as she scanned the room for evidence of Lyra's incompetence.

Lyra brought the wide-eyed innocence of her face to the surface as she always did with Everly, and candy coated the pitch of her voice.

"We are doing great, just finished up in the bathroom and we're on our way to meds and breakfast."

Lyra helped Colleen into her robe and helped sit her down at the small dinette in the corner where meals were served. She reached for the breakfast tray and her vitals checklist from the overbed table to the sound of Everly softly tsk'ing as she glanced at the empty vitals paper.

"Lyra, can I speak with you a moment privately?" Everly smiled over her shoulder at Colleen, giving the hand gesture for 1-minute with her forefinger.

Lyra was familiar with private side-bar chats with Everly. It wasn't a matter of whether she would find an opportunity for improvement of Lyra's work, but when, and today's opportunity was only twenty minutes into her shift.

"You have got to remember to document the time when you enter a resident's room," she said in a stern whisper. "I was hoping since documentation was one of the items on your goal sheet for performance reviews that I wouldn't need to check that any longer."

This is what Everly did. Passive-aggressive leadership was her signature. Each day was different with what she chose to put under the magnifying glass. Yesterday she held a fifteen-minute pre-round huddle because too many of the staff were not wearing the required non-slip footwear. She even went as far as to ask everyone to lift their feet so she could inspect their soles.

"I'm sorry Everly, I was getting there, she's my first resident of the day, I didn't forget." Lyra babbled quickly, putting the please have pity on me gaze into her eyes.

Like clockwork, as quickly as Everly aggresses, she passes over it with the satisfaction of having provided constructive criticism. "It's been discussed, so follow the protocols and document the times you spend with each resident both in and out. It is tremendously important to the reports we run that project the number of staff we need to schedule. It may be above your paygrade to worry about staffing, but some of us aren't so lucky."

There's the final Everly leg-sweep. It's bad enough she seeks out breaches in protocol like a heat seeking missile, but the additional effort to remind those beneath her to know their place is what makes her the worst kind of boss.

" I will, I promise" Lyra mumbled as she turned back into Colleen's room.

Everly stood at the door and watched until Lyra documented the time on her checklist.

She grabbed the clipboard and without looking at the page, stared sharply at Everly and wrote 7:17am and dropped the clipboard on the bed.

Returning to Colleen's side at the table Lyra watched as she struggled to keep the food on her fork as she moved from plate to mouth. The tiny white paper cup containing Colleen's morning medications was already empty.

"I'm supposed to watch you take those" Lyra whispered as she reached for the clipboard again to check the medicine boxes and document the time.

"And I am also supposed to take your vitals before you have them as well. Do you mind?" Lyra nodded at the food tray as she put her stethoscope in her ears and reached for the blood pressure cuff from the rolling monitor that accompanied her on morning rounds.

Colleen dutifully laid her fork across her plate and held up her arm. "It's high, it's always high," she mumbled.

"Reason number one why I need to document it before you have your meds" Lyra smiled as she secured the Velcro arm band and pressed the start button.

"We must have it for the reports" Colleen quipped in sarcasm. Before she could catch it, the laugh escaped her mouth and reached her eyes. Lyra patted Colleen on the shoulder in appreciation for lightening the mood, "don't you worry about that, it's above your paygrade" she said with a wink.

"Well for god's sake don't forget to write it down."

Lyra found herself feeling impressed at Colleen's sharpness and wit. Though her eighty-seven years had stripped her of mobility and balance, her mind was clear, and her hearing was better than average since Everly's scolding should have been far enough away to not be heard word for word. Most patients here couldn't make out a full sentence if you shouted it at them with a bull horn. Lyra made a mental note to not underestimate Colleen's hearing again.

"No need to document your auditory perception" Lyra smiled, again the full light of happiness reaching her eyes.

"How old are you honey" Colleen questioned with a smile

"I'm twenty."

"Ah, you're too young to be pushed around like that by your peers, you're just a baby, still learning. She should be ashamed of herself for not being a better teacher."

Lyra felt her face warm with emotion and immediately turned her back to Colleen to avoid eye contact. She didn't know how to respond to a protective nature, it was something she'd only ever heard of, never experienced.

"I'm used to it. It's the job"

"Well, you shouldn't be" Colleen spoke softly, looking up at Lyra and putting her tiny, manicured hand on her cheek.

Lyra pulled back from Colleen's touch, realizing the comforting gesture of kindness made her feel uncomfortable. She quickly shook off that feeling of anxiety, frosted with longing as she softly moved Colleen's hand from her face and returned it to her breakfast plate.

"I've got to move along now, is there anything else I can do before I go?" Lyra busied her hands, adjusting the shade on the window to allow a bit more light in.

"Bring me the remote dear, I want to watch a program while I eat"

"Sure, do you want the news?" Lyra asked as she grabbed the remote and punched the power button.

"God no," Colleen chuckled, "put it on Law and Order, the Lifetime channel has a marathon today."

Lyra smiled with a little disbelief and set the channel. "That's one of my favorites too. I used to watch it all the time with one of my fost… um, with my father" she stammered.

Colleen never took her eyes off her focus to move her fork full of scrambled eggs from her plate to her mouth, but Lyra sensed she was sharp enough to decode the mistake in her words.

"I'll be back around to check on you later"

Lyra moved Colleen's walker next to her at the table and did a quick scan of the room to ensure there wasn't anything on the floor that would cause a fall and headed for the door. She tucked her clipboard under her arm and wheeled her mobile cart towards the door.

"Lyra dear?" Colleen called out softly, as she raised one shaking hand to point at her clipboard. She smiled mischievously and whispered, "7:35."