WASHINGTON — Is your retirement secure?

For some people who thought they had taken care of everything, the answer may be riding on another question: Is your retirement community secure?

Anne Bradt, 83, said she and fellow residents thought they had bought themselves worry-free retirements when they put down hundreds of thousands of dollars — upwards of $900,000 each — to move into Sherburne Commons in Nantucket, Mass.

Then, a year ago, the nonprofit company that runs the place sought bankruptcy protection. Food service was cut to one meal a day. Activities such as dance and music disappeared, along with the activities director and other members of the staff. Residents could still pull a cord if they needed emergency help in the shower, but they would have to pay extra for the lifeline, and the person answering the call would no longer be on the premises.

Bradt's life became caught up in a complex legal proceeding, with her entire deposit at risk.

"It's been one year of absolute hell," Bradt said. "It's taken its toll physically and mentally."

The recession and the real estate crisis have raised new concerns for people who paid hundreds of thousands of dollars, as much money as it might take to buy a home, just to enter retirement communities. The deposits typically earn seniors the privilege of moving in; they do not confer any ownership in the real estate, and they are in addition to monthly fees that can total thousands of dollars.

In theory, residents can reclaim the money when they move out, or their heirs can recoup it when they die. But the model can break down when the communities' economic assumptions prove too optimistic.

The October bankruptcy filing of another firm — Erickson Retirement Communities, a major developer and manager of campuses for senior citizens — casts a spotlight on the risks.

Erickson has been a leader in the world of "continuing care retirement communities" — CCRCs — which offer independent living, assisted living and nursing home care. People move in while they are still able to live independently, hoping it will be their last major move.

One of the main advantages is that seniors can stay in the same community as their health deteriorates, and couples can avoid being separated in their declining years.

For some Erickson residents, including early occupants of the Ashby Ponds development in Ashburn, Va., it may not work out that way. The weak economy prompted Erickson to halt development of several projects before completing the assisted-living or nursing facilities.

Erickson spokesman Mel Tansill wrote that the company's problems "have no direct effect on ... each resident's right to a refund." Nonetheless, the company's decline has helped illuminate pitfalls that were inherent in its approach.

Erickson promotes its deposits as "100% Refundable," with an asterisk that points to the fine print. Here's the catch: Residents are not entitled to get their money back until management lines up a new tenant for the apartment and the new tenant posts a deposit.

If the demand for apartments at an Erickson community is weak, the community may have an incentive to fill units that have never been occupied before it finds a new tenant for yours. If you have to wait for your money, you may not have access to the funds you would need to move somewhere else. Instead of keeping deposits in the bank, an Erickson contract says that the community will use them — to finance development, make repairs or repay someone else.

As of September, almost a third of the completed units were vacant at Ashby Ponds, where, as of August, entrance deposits ranged from $200,000 for a one-bedroom unit to $563,000 for a two-bedroom unit, according to regulatory and court filings.

Even before Erickson's bankruptcy, the Senate's Special Committee on Aging had asked the Government Accountability Office to study whether CCRCs are adequately regulated.

"In effect, seniors choosing CCRCs today could be exchanging their assets and income for nothing more than a promise," Chairman Herb Kohl, D-Wis., wrote in February.

Of course, entrusting your nest egg to a retirement community isn't the only or easiest way to lose it. Putting money in real estate or stocks can end badly, too.

But for residents of troubled communities outside the Erickson empire, Kohl's concerns are hardly hypothetical.

In Washington, some residents of Ingleside at Rock Creek thought the deposits they paid years ago under "life care contracts" limited the fees they would have to pay for the rest of their lives, according to family members. They were upset when, under financial stress, Ingleside introduced new "ancillary" fees in January for items such as incontinence care, protein supplements and injections.

Ingleside's trouble was that the cost of caring for its residents was outstripping the fees they were paying. "There was a business model here that wasn't sustainable," said Richard Woodard, chief operating officer of the nonprofit.

In Nantucket, a for-profit company is now preparing to buy Anne Bradt's community in a deal that could require residents to settle for smaller refunds than they were originally promised.

Erickson says its restructuring plan, which includes the sale of the business, will enable it to resume building unfinished communities "as the economy improves." In the meantime, Erickson offers recuperation and nursing care in residents' apartments, spokesman Mel Tansill said by e-mail.

Asked how long people have had to wait to get their deposits back, Tansill replied, "Specific data is not readily available."

In an interview, Erickson chief executive Bruce Grindrod said he was touring Erickson properties to assure residents that Erickson's Chapter 11 filing would not affect their lifestyles or day-to-day services.

The deposits are not Erickson's responsibility, Grindrod said. Instead, refunding residents' money is the obligation of not-for-profit companies that take ownership of the communities after they are developed and then pay Erickson to manage them, Grindrod said.

The nonprofit companies are not in bankruptcy.