Previously: After a pleasant stay at a rehab facility and six more weeks of in-home therapy help, I regain my ability to walk alone again, but not without a limp. My concern turns to Frank who exhibits signs of cognitive impairment. A brain scan shows he has the beginning of vascular dementia. Adding to that, his blood tests show high potassium levels. His turn to be hospitalized.

Chapter 83 ends:

He stayed a couple of days at a place ten minutes away. Meds did the trick. By Christmas we were both in good shape. Then Nichole called with unexpected news.

The number of years my daughter had put up with Jeff and his dreams for discovery now totaled twenty one. A rent-controlled apartment suited their budget. All rooms were small. The kitchen no more than an alcove where even one was a crowd. A storage unit handled an overflow of books, videos, and memorabilia. That cost a grand each year.

When Nichole received a raise two years in a row, I mentioned house hunting. "We’ve been looking," she said. "But the prices are astronomical. The owner of a house forty years old wants three hundred thousand! And the rooms and windows are small."

"How about moving farther out?"

"I have a forty minute commute now. No thank you. Besides we love the neighborhood here."

Wait long enough and good things happen. A couple of days before Christmas, the phone rang.

"Mom," Nichole’s voice bubbled over the wire. "We just bought a condo on the third floor of a new development five miles from here. It’s gorgeous: real wood floors, granite counter tops, and a dishwasher at last!"

"I’m so excited for you!" I signaled hubby to get on the extension as she babbled on.

"A huge master bedroom, two smaller ones, two and a half bathrooms, a patio on one side and a balcony on the other. A fireplace with a wall hookup above it for a large screen TV."

"Elevators?" I asked. The steep cement stairs at their present place alarmed me. How easy to fall and crack one’s head.

"Oh yes, but there's no pool which doesn’t bother me."

"Any neighbors, yet?

"One across the way. He’s does something related to film editing. The units are selling slowly right now, so we bargained with the real estate broker. The owner wanted six hundred thousand, but Jeff talked him down to five."

I exchanged looks with hubby. Our brows went up. Nichole had just purchased a half million dollar condo. Impressed? You bet. Worried? A little. I’ll give you this; she didn’t ask us for money. In spite of that, or maybe because of it, I sent her a check so she could buy a washer and dryer. Ever since she chose to live with Jeff, washing clothes meant time at the laundromat. The worst part of apartment living.

"Now you have to come back to California again to see our place once we’re settled." Nichole giggled.

She sure chose an expensive way to avoid coming back to Florida. Wasn’t it just two years ago that we made that red eye flight to L.A.? Wasn’t it her turn to see us? I did want to see her new place though, but any long walks would be tough on both of us. I hated thinking ‘wheelchair’.

Hubby still hadn’t let go of his animosity toward Jeff. Maybe it’s a Dad thing.

"We got along at the cottage in Cayucos," I reminded him.

"Because he had enough sense to stop talking and give us alone time with our daughter."

"True. So let’s hope it happens this time."

To make a long story short, we were impressed by their first home, a palace compared to the cramped apartment. As always, Nichole had mapped out places to go every day. Our first trip meant a tour boat to Catalina Island. No discord and lots of fun browsing the shops. Everything screamed "good time by all" until we decided to find a place to eat. 

After settling in the booth and putting down my purchases, I realised something was missing. I looked in both shopping bags before deliver the news:  "I'm missing my pocketbook."

Frank freaked out. "You’ve got three credit cards in your wallet! We have to find out where to call to declare them lost." Taking out his wallet, he pulled out all his cards. Nope, he had different ones than mine.

Nichole’s response was the voice of her teen years. "Mother, how could you!"

Jeff stayed calm. "Where did you last shop? Maybe you left it on the counter?"

My metaphysical beliefs steadied me. "Don’t worry. All is fine in my universe."

We headed toward the store where I had purchased a glittery shirt and a fancy baseball cap.

"No." the same clerk shook her head. "You might head over to the police station. Someone may have turned it in."

Everyone but me exchanged skeptical looks. Outside the shop, Jeff and Frank looked through the open trash cans. I surveyed the park bench where Nichole and I had sat . Nothing.

We walked the short distance to the police station. I refused to panic and was annoyed by the constant alarm in Frank’s voice with Nichole and Jeff a faint echo.

"Don’t worry," I said. "Whatever happens we’ll deal with it."

"Mom, how are you going to get back on the plane without a passport for identification?"  Nichole shrieked.

Umm, I hadn’t thought of that.

To be continued.