One would think now that she was living in Chicago, in the same city as her [favorite son]
Inocencio, the Grandmother would find happiness. But no, that wasn’t the case. The
Grandmother was meaner than ever. She was unhappy. And didn’t know she was unhappy,
the worst kind of unhappiness of all. As a result, everyone was in a hurry to find her a house
of some sort. A bungalow, a duplex, a brownstone, an apartment. Something, anything,
because the Grandmother’s gloominess was the contagious kind, infecting every member of
the household as fiercely as the bubonic plague.

The figurative language in lines 5 through 7
establishes a tone of
(1) loneliness (3) desperation
(2) confusion (4) shame