by Suzi Weinert
To her mother’s questioning look, Jennifer explained. “It’s a long, scary list. He says skillful con artists can target any age, but find seniors generally come from a time when a man’s word and handshake equaled a contract. This kind of trust makes them vulnerable.”
Her mother wrote, How do they choose a victim?
“They look for a senior living in a big house with nice belongings, like you. A criminal smells money there. He knows many older folks were raised to use good manners and avoid confrontations or hurting feelings, especially women. They’re often kind-hearted and generous, making them easy to dupe into giving money to bogus causes. They’re usually likelier to believe a sales pitch.”
Why? appeared on the pad.
“Because details confuse them or they think it’s rude to question someone’s statements. They often forget to ask for a workman’s license or bond, the very standards for skill and dependability that protect homeowners. And not just with home repair or phone scams but also investments on Wall Street. Older seniors have less energy to disagree when they’re being conned. Some are too embarrassed to admit they’ve been swindled so they don’t even call police. You see the pattern?”
Her mother wrote, Yes. I lived it.
They fell silent, thinking about what she’d survived. Jennifer paused to remember her dual purpose of this Naples trip: rescuing her mother and guiding her toward safer living. Jennifer did the homework, researching options like hired home care if her mother insisted on staying in her house, or senior living in Naples with a variety of options. The most convenient solution for Jennifer was moving her to McLean, but her mother had been through a lot physically and she knew body and mind shared trauma. Was this the time to bring it up?
“Mom, while I’m down here in Naples, might we talk about your future?” Encouraged by her mother’s nod, she asked cautiously, “Do you think living alone here is a good idea now?”
To Jennifer’s complete surprise, her mother shook her head. This unexpected breakthrough invited the second pivotal question. “What do you think is the best way to solve that?”
Her mother wrote. Move near you in Virginia.
Jennifer tried to hide her astonishment. No knockdown struggle. She couldn’t believe it.
“Where do you think you’d like to live there?” This was the big test. Would she want to live with the Shannons? Would she opt to buy a smaller house or condo?
Her mother wrote, upscale senior housing.
Jennifer gripped her chair arms for support. Scarcely able to believe her ears, she grinned. “Mom, what wonderful news. I’m thrilled you’ll be close by to spend time with your Grands and Great-grands. We can do things, Girls Together, just like we used to do. Remember GT?”
Her mother smiled and nodded. Jennifer didn’t want to rock this new boat, but such a complete transformation in her mother’s thinking baffled her. She chose her words carefully.
“Have you…have you been thinking about these big decisions for quite a while?
Her mother shook her head and wrote, “No. This taught me like nothing else could. I was a fool but I’m not an idiot.”
CHAPTER 17
Later, when her mother fell asleep, Jennifer stepped into the hall to phone Cliff Goodwin.
“Hello, Deputy. She’s out of the coma and raspy from the throat tube, but she can write answers for you. She’s napping now but you asked me to let you know right away when she woke up…. Yes, she seems lucid, remembers what happened and should be discharged tomorrow or the next day…. Yes, we’ll return to her house…. Well, turns out she wants to move to Virginia, so I need to arrange emptying the house and selling it…. Yes, a busy time ahead…. Okay. If I’m not here when you talk with her, will you please let me know afterward how it goes? You have my number? Good. Talk with you later.”
Stunned at her mother’s willingness to move north, she knew they must next decide when. Frances had survived trauma, unnerving at any age and particularly at eighty-seven, but Jennifer hoped to act before her mother changed her mind. Already away from her own family a couple of days, Jennifer calculated she’d need weeks to make this move happen and get her mother’s belongings to their new destination. But where?
Suddenly Jennifer had a wild thought. She dialed her husband and brought him up to date. “Jay,” she continued, “I have a far-out idea for a temporary fix.”
Jason laughed with a nervous edge, “I wouldn’t expect less than a far-out idea from you.”
She chuckled. “Well, now, I’m not sure how to weigh that comment.”
“Don’t ask. You don’t want to know.”
“What about the empty house across the street? After Tony and Kirsten Donnegan passed away, their children wanted to sell the house, but the market’s down right now. Maybe we could rent it for, say three to six months? We’d move Mom in—she’d need only the first floor—and she’d be right across the street where we could keep an eye on her while we ferret out the best senior housing choice. Would you mind contacting the Donnegan kids for their reaction? Absent that, could you check on other short-term rentals in our neighborhood? Hate to say it, but I’m afraid it’s a hurry-up assignment.”
“I’ll get right on it.” His voice sobered. “How are you doing, Jen?”
“Fine. My job’s simplified by Mom’s recovery and unexpected cooperation. Now it’s logistics to vacate and sell her house. But before I do, have we any interest in keeping it as a place to winter? We’d have the taxes, maintenance and mortgage, if there is one. The place would sit idle nine months of the year but we’d hire a house-checker to visit bi-monthly, just like all the other snowbirds do. On the other hand, without that sale money, Mom may not have enough to rent or buy or pay the entry fee for the kind of senior housing she wants in McLean. We’ve never discussed her financial situation.”
“Let me think that over, Jen. You have your hands full down there.”
Always the cook when at home, Jennifer asked, “How are you solving meals?”
“No problem. I grocery shop for breakfast, get lunch near work. Becca and I collaborate on the evening meal. Mike’s family brought dinner one night and Becca and I like eating out. So it’s win-win.”
“So sorry about this problem with my Mom, Jay, but if I can solve it while I’m down here, this is the final trip. And this way, we’ll know she’s safer near us. But worst case, it could take several weeks, even a month or more to make all this happen.”
“She’s a special lady and you’re doing exactly what you should. She’s lucky you’re there. Stick with it, and remember, I can fly down if you need me.”
“Love you, Jay.”
“Love you, too, my Jen.”
CHAPTER 18
Aside from the internet, Jennifer needed advice from a long time Naples resident about quality firms she needed in a hurry. No old friends left on her mother’s block in the neighborhood, but then she thought of Chelsea, whose salon clients lived all around Naples.
“Chelsea,” Jennifer spoke into the phone. ”Is this a good time to talk…? Okay, I’ll be quick. I think Mom’s leaving the hospital tomorrow, so she’ll keep her regular appointment with you this Thursday. Could you find another beautician to do my hair at the same time? Great. By the way, looks like Mom may move north with me soon. Can you or your clients recommend any Realtors, moving companies or estate sale people…? Okay, you have my number…? Thanks.”
Next, she opened her laptop to research companies and check their ratings. She tentatively picked three possibilities in each category. The choice depended on their short-notice availability, as well as ratings and costs. Later, she’d compare her results with Chelsea’s suggestions.
After tiptoeing into her mother’s room to find her napping, Jennifer decided to use a table in the hospital lobby to work her laptop and make those cellphone calls.
An hour later she glanced up to see Cliff Goodwin lumbering across the lobby. She hailed him and closed her computer as he walked over, asking, “How y
a doing?”
“Fine now that my mom’s okay. Are you here to see her?” He nodded. “Mind if I come along?”
“Great idea. Are you staying in Naples awhile longer?”
“Just long enough to organize her move to Virginia.”
He gave a thin laugh. “A hard sell, exchanging Florida sunshine for mean winters up north.”
“True. I’m amazed, but she came up with this on her own.”
“You don’t know how lucky she is. I see the downside of some seniors here who ‘age in place’—that’s what they call it now. Without the right support, they can get isolated. To police that means vulnerable. Some get abused, neglected, exploited and even abandoned. More so, if they have disabilities needing major care. Some families opt out when the going gets tough.”
“Really?” Jennifer’s brow wrinkled.
“Well, your own mother’s an example of exploitation, and her perp used his scam on other seniors needing help at home. We see cases all the time of family members or caregivers neglecting or abusing seniors. If the senior uses glasses, dentures, a cane, a walker or special meds, they hide them and won’t return them unless the senior signs papers or does whatever they want. One son put bars on windows and locked his old mother inside the house while he went to work. If a senior is assaulted physically, you can be sure he’s abused verbally. Senior sex abuse is about power, a grim extension of physical abuse. Some go after the senior’s money by making him more dependent. The more isolated and needy the senior gets, the more power the abuser has. If an old person doesn’t drive, his phone is taken away and he’s physically impaired, how can he get help?”
“Awful…”
“Look, in law enforcement we don’t see the happy, kind, good families where everybody loves each other. We see the other kind. But consider this,” he pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and started reading, “the number of Americans sixty-five and older is supposed to double by 2030 when those seventy-four million baby boomers born between l946 and ‘64 kick in. And the number of people eighty-five-plus increases even faster. And guess what—about ninety percent of elder abusers are their own family members, and forty-seven percent of those are their own adult children.”
Jennifer shook her head in disbelief as they stepped off the elevator.
“And,” the deputy tucked the paper back in his pocket, “twenty percent of elder abusers are their own spouses or partners. You see why police look first at the family in those situations?”
She nodded, trying to absorb this disturbing information as they approached her mother’s ward. “Here we are. Deputy, I…I’m worried.” Jennifer’s brow furrowed. Would this brusque detective understand? “She’s already physically and emotionally frail, after what she’s been through. If your questions upset her, would you, could you delay the interview?” He sighed but nodded.
They opened the door and looked in. “Hi, Mom. Would you like some company? I brought a visitor.” She introduced Goodwin.
“Hey, glad you’re feeling better. I’m the deputy investigating what happened. I want to compliment you for calling your daughter to help you. That was a smart, brave choice. Now, we want to catch the couple who took advantage of you. I’d like to wait until it’s easier for you to talk, but the sooner we get your story, the faster we can move forward.” He took out a notebook. “Can you answer some questions about what you remember and look at some photos to help identify the people who harmed you? I see you’re nodding. How did you meet these people?”
Picking up the notebook, she wrote, Vanderbilt Beach Road. I couldn’t work the pump. He offered to help. He admired my Mercedes. We discussed gardening. I needed a yardman. He’d give me an estimate if he saw my yard.
Goodwin read this. “And you asked him to take a look?” She nodded. He handed her the notebook. “And then what happened?”
She wrote, Had I handyman work to estimate? I did. He did some repairs. I paid him. He’d been a chauffeur and offered Driving-Miss-Daisy for a reasonable price when I revealed I had no driver’s license. I agreed.
Goodwin read this. “How did the woman get involved?”
She wrote, He said his wife cleaned, cooked and shopped, all for $30 a day. Couldn’t believe it. Said I’d try her. She was a bargain. Or so I thought. She passed Goodwin the notebook.
“So everything seemed okay at first? When did that change?” he asked.
They hid my phones. He drove me everywhere, but once there, she came in, watched who I met, heard my conversations. Since I usually shopped alone, a companion was nice. Then he said they needed a place to stay a few nights. I offered a bedroom. Stupid. Later I felt sleepy daytimes. Took naps like never before unless sick. Felt like prisoner. They always explained away missing phones and not leaving.”
Goodwin read this and asked, “When did you contact Jennifer?”
Borrowed Chelsea’s phone at weekly hair appointment. Called from ladies room. Only place away from Jane. Maybe she saw me return Chelsea’s phone or heard her ask me for my daughter’s number. Back home from the beauty shop, they weren’t nice any more. He said they should move fast. When I asked for water, the drink tasted funny. I put it down, but they made me finish. Walked me to the bedroom. That’s all I remember until waking here.
“Anything else?” Goodwin prodded. She shook her head.
He pulled a picture array from his briefcase. “Recognize anyone?”
She pointed. “That’s him.”
At the photo array of women, she shook her head.
“When you’re back home, Jennifer will help you list everything missing so we can search for your stolen property. If you have old pictures of the missing items, it’s even better. Here’s my card. If you think of something more, call me day or night.”
Frances reached out a gnarled hand, touched his sleeve and rasped in a gravelly voice. ”Thank you, Detective.”
Goodwin smiled and shuffled out.
“Good job, Mom. Well done.”
Her mother smiled and croaked. “Not well done for me, Jen. Well done for you, dearest—you saved my life.”
CHAPTER 19
At discharge the next day, the nurse went over the home after-care list while they wheeled Frances to the entrance. “Your voice sounds better today.”
Her mother smiled, “Yes, but I preserve it when I can.”
As they rode, Jennifer began cautiously, “Mom, you might want to prepare yourself before we get home. After they drugged you, they burglarized your house. Deputy Goodwin says some stolen pieces may turn up, but if not, insurance kicks in. Not the same as having all the things you care about, but at least something. They ransacked the place and I straightened it back the best I could, but it isn’t exactly as you remember.” Jennifer glanced over to see how her mother took this.
A long pause and then her mother said in a small voice, “For instance?”
“For instance, they took some paintings off the walls. You’ll see faded spots where they hung.”
Her mother sighed. “I understand.”
Jennifer made small talk the rest of the way until they pulled into the driveway. She hadn’t the heart to mention they had also stolen the Mercedes, luckily recovered in good condition. “We’ll have to use the front door because your garage opener…isn’t available.”
She helped her mother in the front door. This first look at her home brought a spontaneous moan. And she sank into the nearest chair, absorbing the scene.
Jennifer hoped to balance the jarring scene with something comforting. “Would you like some tea?” Her mother nodded. “Want to come with me to the kitchen?” She did, looking around quizzically as she passed through rooms on the way.
When the kettle whistled, they sipped tea together at the kitchen table. Was moving to Virginia just a hospital “foxhole decision” to be recanted now that her mother had returned home? “Are you feeling okay, Mom?”
“Yes, but it’s a shock. As I see what’s changed here, I know my bad decisions caused this,
so I can accept what happened. Your best teacher is your last mistake.”
“Shall we take a little tour when you finish your tea?” Her mother nodded.
After visiting all the rooms, main floor and upstairs, Jennifer asked, “Wouldn’t life be easier without climbing stairs every day if your new place was all on one floor?”
Her mother gave her a sharp look. Uh-oh, Jennifer thought, here it comes.
“Climbing stairs every day is good exercise.”
“Speaking of exercise, the hospital list suggested taking short walks. We could do that together if you want.”
“This is Florida, dear. In summer, we walk outside in early morning or late evening. Otherwise, we glisten.”
Jennifer chuckled. “You’re right. I forgot. So this evening then, if you feel up to it?”
“Yes. How long can you stay here with me, dear?”
Jennifer groped for the right words. If her mother rejected the moving-north plan, she’d have to persuade her to accept a senior housing solution in Naples. “Well, I guess that depends on how you feel and what we need to accomplish together.”
Seeing her mother consider this, Jennifer added, “My family in McLean is also your family. Jason and the children love you just as I do. Jason’s managing on his own at home now, insisting he’s self-sufficient. He’ll fly down if we need him.” After a long pause, she added, “So what do we need to accomplish together?”
“A good question….”
Sensing her mother had changed her mind about moving north, Jennifer hesitated. At age sixty-one, she knew one day she could find herself in this very situation as her children helped her through similar decisions. How would she want them to treat her? They could gather information and make recommendations, but she’d want to make the final decisions. She owed her mother the same respect. “Have you thought about a good answer?”
“It’s complicated, Jen. Change requires energy and I haven’t much. Staying here avoids decisions that take energy I don’t have. Change means adjustments, while staying here is comfortable and effortless. Also, Florida weather means I never have to face another bleak, cold winter. You understand?”