pearance at the appointed time and sat there, back erect, hands
resting in her lap, her best ear forward, the better to capture my
whining litany and to commiserate.

One day, though, she entered my crude office and remained standing.

"Isabel," - I enquired - "is everything alright?"

"You know that I have been provided with a residence on Elm Street, now
that my family home is underwater."

The "residence" was an imposing mansion, with an enormous driveway, an
English, sculpted garden, and a series of working fountains. Isabel
rented the place from a British-Canadian mogul of sorts, as she
disdainfully informed me a while back.

"It's been invaded by strangers." - She made a dramatic announcement.

I looked at her, not comprehending:

"You mean burglars? Squatters? Who are these strangers? Why don't you
call the Police to evict them? It could be dangerous, you know!"

She waved away my concerned pleas impatiently:

"I can't call the police to evict them because they have assumed the
bodies of my family members."

When she saw the bafflement in my eyes, she reiterated slowly, as if
aiming to get through to a slow-witted, yet cherished, interlocutor:

"These invaders - they look like my husband and my son. But they are
not. They are doubles. They are somehow wrong, fake, ersatz, if you know
what I mean."

I didn't.

"I love my real relatives but not the current occupants of their
corporeal remains. I keep my door locked at night!"

She made it sound like an unprecedented event.

"Isabel, sit down, please." - I said and she did, white-jointed hands
clenched and venous. I decided not to confront her illogic but rather to
leverage it to expose the absurdity of her assertions.

"Why would these body-snatchers go to all this trouble?"

"Don't be silly!" - She snapped - "Money, of course! They are after my
fortune! These look-alikes are planning to murder me and abscond with my
considerable fortune. They are all in my will, you see, and they know
it! But they can't wait their turn, they are anxious to lay their dirty
paws on my checkbook! They are afraid that I will change my mind!"

"You sound like you are referring to your true relatives." - I pointed out.

She recoiled:

"These criminals that took over my family, I want them gone! I want my
husband back and my son!'

"Then why don't you simply alter your will and let them know about it?
Announce the changes in a family gathering! That way they will