There are platters of pancakes, eggs, bacon, and salmon on the counter. I find two large plates and fill them up, one for me and one for Paige. Then I find a saucer and put tiny bits of eggs, bacon, and salmon on there for the kitten. I set them out on the blue kitchen table.

Paige puts the kitten down in front of her plate and urges her to eat. “There you go, little kitten. Have this fish. Have some really good, salty fish. Yes. It’s so good for you.”

She uses a “mom” voice for the last part, and my heart breaks, thinking that her mom would have said similar things to her about fish and vegetables. Only six months ago her mother was in this world, caring for her little girl. Now she’s gone, and Paige seems adrift.

CHAPTER FOUR

Mr. Rochester never appears for dinner. I heat the food for him and even set a plate when Paige and I sat down to eat, but he never shows up. After dinner I tackle the alarmingly large pile of dirty laundry in Paige’s closet, and make it my goal to organize her clothes. “Paige. Where is the washing machine?”

“I dunno.”

“Then how do you clean your clothes?”

Wide eyes. “Mommy did that.”

It’s only been a few months since her mother died. It’s a sensitive issue, and I wouldn’t normally press, but we do need clean clothes. Especially if they haven’t been cleaned in all that time. “Your mommy would walk around with a laundry basket, right? Where did she go with it?”

A stiff shrug.

I’m going to need my clothes cleaned at some point. Only a few pairs of jeans and shirts fit into my carry-on suitcase. More important than that, however, is cleaning Paige’s clothes. It’s part of my job to take care of her. “Can you help me find it?”

“A washing machine?”

“Mhmm. A big white machine that looks like a fridge only shorter.” My apartment back in Houston doesn’t have one. I walk three blocks with a garbage bag to the washeteria twice a week. I hope I don’t have to trek down this mountain with laundry to make this happen.

She looks reluctant to leave the couch, which I understand. The wind whistles through the cracks on the large windows. Heavy clouds threaten to unleash more rain.

We check the kitchen, checking for some small door leading to a laundry room.

We walk through the dining room and living rooms, where clearly a washer and dryer don’t belong.