“What’s this?” she asked, running her thumb across the smooth printed card.

“That’s the number for the Oak Park township social services office,” I said.

“They handle emergency utility assistance grants for residents with no reported monthly income.”

Eleanor stared down at the blue print on the card as though she couldn’t make out the letters.

“We’re not charity cases, Mariana,” she whispered, her voice tightening again.

“You’ve got a house and a roof over your head,” I said.

“From today on, you’ll have to cover the monthly bills within your own means.”