“And you agreed to move?”
“Temporarily. Just until the work was completed.”
Her eyes filled.
“Then I found out someone had filed documents saying I'd voluntarily transferred management of my property.”
My stomach twisted.
“Did you sign anything?”
“A consent form for repairs. At least, that's what they told me.”
She looked at her trembling hands.
“I thought I was being careful.”
I sat beside her.
“Helen, people who do this know how to make their paperwork look convincing.”
She shook her head.
“I taught mathematics for forty years. I handled my husband's estate myself. And they made me feel like a foolish child.”
I squeezed her hand.
“You aren't foolish.”
For several moments, she cried quietly.
Then she looked at me.
“Do you know what they said when I started asking questions?”
I shook my head.
“They told me my memory was declining.”
A chill passed through me.
The same strategy.
