Chapter 4 - The merchant
I called HST at 9:30 Monday morning.
The full name was:
Hearthstone Senior Transitions.
Not a hospital.
Not insurance.
A private elder-placement and relocation company.
They helped families:
Evaluate assisted-living communities.
Arrange downsizing.
Coordinate movers.
Prepare homes for sale.
Organize estate dispersal.
The representative asked for the account number.
I did not have one.
I provided the transaction dates.
Then my name.
She said:
“I can’t disclose client information without verifying the account holder.”
“Who is the account holder?”
“I can’t disclose that.”
Fair.
I explained:
“My credit card has been charged $425 monthly.”
She transferred me to billing.
Billing located the payment source.
Then paused.
“Mr. Dalton, the card is associated with an account under Carla Dalton.”
There it was.
“What are the charges?”
“Monthly planning retainer.”
“For what?”
“I’m not permitted to disclose the service file without authorization.”
“Can you stop charging my card?”
“Yes, if you’re the cardholder.”
I was.
They canceled the recurring payment.
Then the billing employee said:
“There is also a nonrefundable initial assessment fee already processed.”
“How much?”
“Two thousand four hundred dollars.”
I found it later.
Nine months earlier.
Buried among holiday expenses.
$2,400.
My card.
Carla’s authorized-user number.
I hung up.
Sat in silence.
Senior transitions.
Planning retainer.
Assessment.
My seventy-year-old brain did what frightened brains do.
Jumped to the largest conclusion.
They were planning to put me in a home.
Then I forced myself to slow down.
Maybe Carla had used the company for her mother.
Her mother was sixty-six.
Possible.
Maybe a client.
Carla worked in real estate administration.
Possible.
Maybe she had reimbursed me.
No.
I checked.
No matching reimbursement.
I called my lawyer.
His name was Daniel Reeves.
Seventy-two.
We played golf badly together.
He handled Ruth’s estate after she died.
I said:
“Dan, I think my son and daughter-in-law may be planning something with my house.”
He answered:
“That is not a legal sentence.”
I smiled despite myself.
“I know.”
“Start with facts.”
I told him.
Dog bowl too.
He let me finish.
Then:
“Do you feel physically unsafe?”
“No.”
“Any one of them threatening you?”
“No.”
“Do they have power of attorney?”
“No.”
“Joint title?”
“No.”
“Joint bank account?”
“No.”
“Have you signed anything recently?”
“Not that I remember.”
“Then breathe.”
I hated that.
He continued:
“They cannot simply put you in assisted living because they prefer it.”
“I know.”
“They cannot sell your house without legal authority.”
“I know.”
“Good. Now we find out what actually happened.”
May you like
Facts first.
Again.
