“Yes,” I say, drawing the word out. This is heading for a disaster if I’m thrown into her life this way, as some kind of enforcer. Yes, I’ll have to impose rules on her but she also needs to see me as a caregiver. As a kind person in her life. “But we haven’t been introduced.”

He gets a sardonic glint in his eye. “This is Paige Marie Rochester. The reason for your new paycheck. Paige, this is Jane… what was your last name again?”

“Mendoza. Jane Mendoza.” I give the girl a tentative smile. “I hope you’ll call me Jane.”

Her mutinous expression doesn’t change.

I take a step into her bedroom, shivering at the chill that pervades the air.

Unlike my room it’s bursting with color. It’s painted pink with posters of unicorns and dragons pinned up. Her bedspread sports pink-red roses. Despite the profusion of girly pink, it’s clear where this girl’s true passion lies. A Monopoly board dominates the center of the room, pieces spread across, real estate cards in disarray. Crinkled money peeks out from the bottom of the dresser and from inside drawers.

I sit down on the bed, trying to act casual, as if I attempt to befriend grieving six-year-olds every day. “I’d love to get to know you better, Paige. What kind of things do you like? I already know you like Monopoly. I’ve played that game, but I’m not very good at it. I bet you are.”

She doesn’t answer.

Mr. Rochester lists things like he’s cataloging some strange species of animal. “Her favorite hobbies are ignoring the things I ask her to do, throwing things on the ground. And saying that she wishes I was dead. Oh, and she demands Pop-Tarts for dinner.”

In that short statement, I see how the last few months have unfolded between them. I knew that her parents had died in a tragic accident, relatively recently. But somehow I assumed that her uncle, like any caring family member, would treat her gently. He’d put up pictures of the people she lost. Since he has money, he’d probably get her therapy, too.

They would be a unit. A sad but loving unit.

That whole image goes up in flames. They’ve clearly been locked in a battle for a lot longer than this morning. I knew I’d have to work hard at this job, but now it feels dangerously close to impossible. Except I need this to work.