Court Papers in the Locked Drawer of a Community Doctor
“The lake cabin,” Karen said simply. “George, the developer, has been buying every foot of frontage he can get his hands on. He wants to build a resort.”
“David told me George offered seventy thousand dollars,” I said. “He said we should sell it to avoid the taxes.”
Karen shook her head, her face hard. “The tax assessment alone is forty thousand. A developer like George does not make seventy-thousand-dollar offers on prime lakefront. If David gets himself appointed as your guardian, he gains sole signature authority over your assets. He can sell the cabin without your consent, and the money goes into an account he controls.”
“He would have to prove I am incompetent first,” I said.
“He is a doctor, Rachel,” Karen said. “His signature on a medical evaluation carries immense weight in a probate court. If he has a log of your supposed confusion, and photos, and a lawyer who knows how to expedite the petition under an emergency seal…”
“He has a business card,” I said. “Arthur Sterling. I found it in his winter coat pocket.”
