I drop the hoodie back into the drawer.

Yeah, it wasn’t going to be that easy. She’ll walk all over you.

“Listen,” I say to her. “I know you don’t have any reason to trust me right now, but I promise I’m on your side. I’m just here to make your life easier, really.”

Nothing.

Time to pull out the big guns. “I have a kitten in my room.”

She looks suspicious but interested.

“If you’re very gentle, you can pet her. And I’ll even let you name her.”

I take a page from Mr. Rochester’s book and head out of the room without waiting to see if she’ll follow. I don’t look back, but I do listen very carefully. Sure enough there’s the gentle swish of motion that lets me know she’s coming, too.

The kitten had seemed like a wet ball of fur and bones last night. Now she’s mostly wide eyes and large pointy ears. Her hair is a mixture of black, white, and caramel colors. She stands at the edge of the bed and meows when she sees us.

Paige lets out a sound of delight and drops to her knees by the bed. She immediately falls into baby talk. “Oh who’s a good little kitten, it’s you, it’s you, you’re so little and so sweet.”

The kitten leans forward and boops its nose against hers.

“Mr. Rochester—that is, Beau—he rescued her from the storm last night,” I say, hoping that it will win him some points with the child. He clearly needs them.

She doesn’t take her eyes off the kitten. “Maybe she didn’t want to be rescued. Did he think of that? No, of course not, he does whatever he wants. Like a man.”

I don’t bother telling her that the kitten had fallen off the cliff. That would only give her nightmares, probably. And I don’t tell her that the kitten might have frozen to death outside. She doesn’t need more thoughts of death in her life.

Besides, she isn’t really talking about the kitten right now.

She’s talking about herself.

“I’m sure he’s only trying to help,” I say softly, though in my mind I can still hear him saying, in the business world, she’s what we call a liability. Something I’m required to pay. An expense. A loan. The wrong side of the balance sheet. “Let’s go downstairs, and we can find something for the kitten to eat. What do you think she would like? And we can get breakfast for ourselves.”

Paige scrunches her small nose in concentration.