Chapter 8 - Homecoming in Cicero
The third-floor apartment in Cicero smelled faintly of cinnamon tea and fresh linen.
When I walked through the door carrying three bags of groceries and a bouquet of fresh yellow tulips, my mother looked up from her armchair by the radiator, her eyes wide with astonishment.
“Avery? It’s Tuesday afternoon. Why aren’t you out on your delivery route?” Mom asked, coughing lightly into a knitted shawl.
I walked over, placed the groceries on the worn kitchen table, and knelt beside her chair, taking her frail, soft hands in mine.
“I quit my day job, Mom,” I said, smiling softly.
Mom’s face fell, panic flickering in her tired eyes. “Avery, no! What about the rent? What about the insurance? We can’t afford—”
“Look at this,” I interrupted gently, pulling a sealed manila envelope from my bag and placing it on her lap.
Mom opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a certified bank statement confirming a permanent, fully paid medical trust fund, alongside a legal deed for a newly renovated, ground-floor condominium three blocks away with wide hallways, a sunroom for her plants, and a permanent home health nurse on retainer.
And beneath that was a copy of the morning newspaper.
The front-page headline screamed in bold, black letters: VANCE EMPIRE CRUMBLES: FEDERAL RAID EXPOSES DECADES OF CORRUPTION. Accused mastermind Arthur Vance arrested; municipal authorities clear Marcus Carter of all posthumous allegations.
Mom stared at the newspaper headline, then at the bank statement, and finally up into my eyes. Tears welled up in her thin, papery eyelids, spilling over her cheeks in silent, overwhelming relief.
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“Avery... what did you do?” she whispered, her voice breaking.
“I just delivered a message, Mom,” I said, resting my head against her knee just like I used to do when I was a little girl, before our world broke apart. “And this time... we got a very good tip.”
