by Tom Fowler

Created on: August 06, 2008

Lenora's Dilemma

1.

Lenora Hinman was the closest she ever came to being mad, and she had good reason. For the third time in the last six weeks, she had been robbed. The thief had not taken much, mainly because she did not have much to take.

Lenora was a 96-year old widow who stood barely five feet tall and weighed only 89 pounds. About this size in her youth, she was still wiry and strong. Surprisingly, her hair was not yet gray. It was still jet black and very healthy. Her skin was not overly wrinkled and her complexion was good considering her age. Her hearing and eyesight were still good. All in all, Lenora Hinman was a woman that belied her 96 years.

She lived alone in her home on 28th street. It was a large, spacious house, purchased by herself and Bill Hinman, her deceased husband, in 1939. It had been quite lovely when it was new, but now it needed paint and remodeling. Widowed for 45 years, she had been alone almost half of her life. A crusty, but very kind woman, she still attended church every Sunday and hosted the Wednesday afternoon circle meeting in her living room. The group was not as big as in earlier days, as death had claimed most of her friends. Lenora often wondered if old age was a blessing or curse.

She was up early, as usual, this Monday morning. Still able to live alone and take care of herself, her good health and independent nature allowed her to get by very well and not be a burden to her grandson, Bill Hinman III, who was her only blood relative living here and the only one that she was close to. Bill was 47 years old, happily married with three children and very concerned about his aging grandmother.

Finishing her morning chores, she decided to call Bill. She waited until mid morning before doing so, as she hesitated to call him at work. The man worked extremely hard and she hated to bother him.

"Hello Bill," she spoke in a quiet, flat voice. Bill always had trouble hearing her over the phone.

"Well, Hi, Grandma." Bill was always delighted to hear from her, even at work. He wished that they would talk and visit more often, but she wouldn't. She knew how busy he was.

"Got something to tell you."

A little alarmed, Bill answered, "Oh?"

"Got robbed again last night. 20 bucks."

Grandma was getting robbed on a regular basis, it seemed, and this did not please Bill. The third time lately; he knew the police could not do much. Always small amounts of cash and no violence, he suspected the same person was responsible for all of the robberies. He was

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