“Oh, and Frazer.” Tia’s head had poked around the doorway. “Instead of sulking that the others always get the grants they need, why not get those others on board?”

Frazer stared at the door once Tia had disappeared again. Maybe she was right?

Who was she kidding? Tia was always right.

Though maybe not about this. Working with Cora on Frazer’s baby? There wasn’t a worse idea in the world.

CHAPTER TWO

“A home?”

Mrs Stein trained her bright blue eyes on Cora and stared her down. Cora resisted the urge to turn tail and flee. This job was exhausting. There were times she returned home so emotionally drained that she fell into bed embarrassingly early.

“Yes, Mrs Stein. A home.” When she said it, Cora didn’t bother lacing her tone with enthusiasm. She wouldn’t add insult to injury.

Wrinkles layered around her mouth as Mrs Stein pursed her lips. “I… I don’t want to go to a home.”

If it weren’t for Mrs Stein’s three despicable, ungrateful children, Cora’s job would be solely researching the least terrible, government-funded aged-care facility to send a referral. But those charming children, who were selling their mother’s house, refused to spend the money on a private facility so that they could ensure a greater inheritance when she passed away. Even more charming. On top of that, they didn’t want to be the ones to tell her she’d be going into a public facility because they were greedy little worms.

If only this was something that rarely happened, rather than a common occurrence. A headache was starting behind Cora’s eyes, and all she wanted to do was go home. Unfortunately, she still had hours to go. The day was dragging, not helped by those stupid early meetings Alec insisted on. Sometimes she wondered if he actually hated his staff since he put them all through that each Monday. At times, she found herself missing the days she wasn’t head of the department simply because that had meant she didn’t have to go.

Those sorrowful eyes stared at her unblinkingly and Cora gave in, sitting next to her patient and putting her hand over hers. “I’m sorry, Mrs Stein. You’re unable to look after yourself anymore independently.” Cora squeezed gently. “This is your third hospital admission in as many months.”

The papery skin under Cora’s hands was remarkably soft; translucent enough to show blue veins tracing their way up the wrist under her fingers. This skin was a map of a history of a woman that was now culminating in a loss of dignity she couldn’t fight. Beneath Cora’s thumb whispered a slow, thready pulse.

“Can’t someone help me out at home?” Mrs Stein asked.

“The hours you could be supplied with by government funding were all used up last time.” This was the point at which Cora could dump this woman’s children in the blame pile, but really, who would that hurt in the end? Only Mrs Stein. “Your risk assessment score shows you need to be placed in a care facility, and with your hip broken again…”