Page 256 of When a Soul Cries

“Girl, get your baby and come on. We got a couch to buy.”

Sol stood there trying not to laugh.

She lost.

And as her laughter filled that empty townhouse again, I smiled.

Yeah.

She was going to be just fine.

And something told me this new chapter wasn’t only starting for her.

It might’ve been starting for all of us.

“Okay, Ms. Carter, I just need your initials in these three spots, and then your signature at the bottom.”

I turned the lease packet around on my desk and slid it toward her, tapping each highlighted section with the end of my pen. Ms. Carter leaned forward, but instead of signing, she stared at the number printed near the bottom of the page. Her brows pinched together as she read it once, then again.

“This is really my portion?”

The disbelief in her voice pulled at something inside me. A few weeks ago, I had been sitting on the other side of this process asking some of the same questions.

I turned toward my computer and checked her account one more time. “Yes, ma’am. That’s your monthly portion after everything you qualified for.”

“For me and both of my kids?”

“Yes.” I smiled when she continued staring at the paper like another number might suddenly appear. “No hidden surprises either. Everything you’re responsible for is right there.”

Her shoulders slowly relaxed.

I knew that look.

It was the look of somebody who had spent so long expecting bad news that good news made them suspicious.

Ms. Carter picked up the pen but hesitated before touching it to the paper. “And the assistance doesn’t change just because I’m working?”

“Not just because you’re working. If your income changes, you’ll report it and they’ll let you know if anything needs to be adjusted. But everything you qualify for right now is already reflected in that amount.”

She nodded, finally beginning to initial the highlighted lines.

While she worked through the packet, I clicked through the documents attached to her account. Proof of income. Identification. Approval paperwork. Unit assignment. I compared everything against the paper file sitting beside my keyboard, checking each item before marking it complete.

A few weeks into the job, I was finally getting comfortable enough that I didn’t have to second-guess every button I clicked.

When Ms. Carter finished, I pulled the packet toward me and flipped through it one more time.

“When can we move in?” she asked.

The nervousness in her voice had been replaced by hope.

I checked her unit status on the computer. “Your townhouse is already ready. I’m going to upload these final documents and send everything for clearance. Once that’s done, the office will call you about getting your keys.”

Her eyes widened. “That soon?”

“That soon.”

One of her hands came up to cover her mouth.