Lynnette Rex has been living in the Hotel Bemidji for more than a week now, ever since she was among 47 tenants evacuated from a federally subsidized apartment building that inspectors feared could be headed toward catastrophic structural failure.

The 62-year-old, on disability with multiple sclerosis, knows this is only a temporary housing solution for the two dozen former tenants who remain in area hotels. And the housing situation for those staying with family or waiting for assisted-living beds isn't much more stable; two are temporarily staying with a 100-year-old family member.

The northern Minnesota city, in one of the state's poorest counties, has a debilitating shortage of affordable housing. For now, Rex is happy to have a roof over her head. She's grateful for community help — United Way and local restaurants providing meals, Headwaters Regional Development Commission paying for hotels, Bemidji State football players helping residents move — but angry at the property manager and at local government for a lack of support and communication.

Rex doesn't know what next week will bring — not for her, and not for her 91-year-old mother who was also living in the evacuated apartment building, and who now lives down the hall in the hotel.

"We were kicked to the curb," Rex said this week. "I have no clue what's next. ... Housing people are coming in, getting us Section 8 housing applications and hoping we get moved to the top of the list. But housing is at a premium here, and everyone in that building lives basically on Social Security. It's terrifying."

The situation with Red Pine Estates, a three-story privately owned property where the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development has a rental assistance payment contract, sheds light on a number of issues affecting poor, older or disabled Minnesotans.

One is the much-discussed statewide shortage of affordable housing. The state has a 100,000-unit supply gap of homes affordable to lower-income Minnesotans. One community development specialist in Bemidji cited a recent study that showed the city of 15,000 is short 900 affordable units.

Then there's the ambiguous regulatory positioning of the building — eldercare advocates have been pushing for state Health Department oversight on similar buildings since a 2019 law established a statewide assisted-living licensure program.

The majority of residents at Red Pine Estates are elderly, disabled or both. Though it's an independent-living complex, many receive home health care with regular visits from personal-care assistants. Because it's not an assisted-living building, it is not regulated by the Minnesota Department of Health.

Amanda Vickstrom, executive director of the Minnesota Elder Justice Center, has been among a group of advocates saying properties like Red Pine Estates ought to be regulated as assisted-living facilities. Property owners have resisted those extra regulations, which could mean more frequent inspections and guidelines for planned or emergency closures that would provide extra support for tenants.

"If you have a building where most of your residents are vulnerable or receiving services — if you walk like a duck and talk like a duck, you're a duck," Vickstrom said. "Where do you cross over the line into being assisted living?"

Jennifer Ho, commissioner of Minnesota Housing, the state's housing finance agency, said situations like the one in Bemidji illuminate the blurry line between two regulatory environments.

"The housing universe and the health-care universe are two separate universes that collide," Ho said. "They're not governed or managed as things that intersect. The health-care system doesn't have a great track record on managing people's housing."

For Rex, the past couple of weeks have been exhausting. The stress of the sudden move exacerbated the pain of her multiple sclerosis. Rex doesn't know where her cane is, which was packed away in the chaos of the move. The property manager offered to move residents to the company's other properties in Minnesota or the region, some as far away as Minot, N.D. Rex wants to stay in Bemidji, near her grandchild.

In a statement, the property management company, Twin Cities-based Schuett Cos., called the building's issues and the sudden evacuation unique, saying structural integrity concerns stemmed from building components blocked from view by things like drywall and ceilings.

Residents shared paperwork the company gave them to terminate their leases; the company offered tenants $3,000 apiece in agreements that promised confidentiality and ensured they wouldn't hold the company liable. Some signed; others were insulted, and some said they retained attorneys.

In a statement, Schuett Cos. said representatives have been working "around the clock" to help and they're optimistic all residents will find long-term housing soon.

"Unfortunately, our efforts have been somewhat hampered due to misinformation that has been circulated on Facebook and other social media platforms," the company said. "We encourage residents and their families to contact management directly so we can clear up any misconceptions, as well as provide them with information regarding the immediate help and resources that may be available to them during this difficult time."

One evening this week, Rex was hanging out with friend and former Red Pine Estates resident Tammy Ness outside the hotel. Both were anxious about the uncertainty, but more worried for those decades older than them.

"These old ladies — they're homeless!" Rex said. "They're too old for this."

Both were inspired by the outpouring of community support, such as Bemidji resident Cindy Tesar, who has been working to make the hotels more accessible. Tesar spent this week purchasing and installing things like suction-cup handrails, extended shower chairs and toilet risers. She bought cellphones for residents whose only phones had been landlines.

But Rex and Ness know support will last only so long. One organizer guessed that the $15,000 donated by the Northwest Minnesota Foundation for hotel costs could be gone this week. There are fundraisers online and at a local bank, but the friends worry for when that generosity runs out.

"I'm not sure what I'm going to do," said Ness, 56. "I have a tent, anyways. I may have to live in my tent. First time for everything."