Yes, sir. That’s the only appropriate response, but something makes me ask. “That room’s clearly the master bedroom. It’s bigger than this one. Why don’t you sleep there?”

“Leave it the fuck alone.”

With a shivering hand I accept the blanket and clutch it against my chest. “Thank you.”

He closes the door in my face.

What I didn’t realize is that his bedspread would carry the faint musky scent of him. I close my eyes, but it doesn’t go away. It only gets stronger. Now I know what it would be like to press my face against his chest. To be enclosed in a hug. I head back to my room. When I climb into bed, I pull the bedspread up and wrap it tightly around my body and fall into a deep slumber.

The next afternoon several packages arrive. There’s a thick down comforter for my bed. There’s also buttery soft socks, fur-lined boots, and a padded jacket.

I’m warm, finally, and it feels like bliss.

He doesn’t ask for his bedspread back, and I don’t offer it. I continue to sleep with the bedspread wrapped around me each night.

CHAPTER FIVE

We settle into an uneasy routine, spending most of our time caring for the kitten and lounging in the large rooms with Paige’s favorite game in the world—Monopoly. She wants to play. And then she wants to play again. I go along with it, hoping that we’re developing a rapport. The weather continues to be gloomy, so I don’t force her to spend time outside. Which means she can continue to wear her clothes better suited to warmer climates.

I mention schoolwork to her a couple times a day, aiming for casual, hoping for cooperation. But whenever I bring up the subject, she shuts down completely.

Her one-word answers go to complete silence.

She walks away from the Monopoly board game and refuses to play.

Amidst some printed subtraction and fill-in-the-blank sentence worksheets, I find the login to the parent portal for her school.

A small icon shaped like an envelope has a little red number beside it. Fifty-one. There are fifty-one messages from her teacher, her principal, the administrator of the school.

Dear Mr. Rochester, We’re so excited to be working with Paige. She’s just a delight and so smart. We noticed she hasn’t turned in her summer reading essay. Can you please contact Mrs. Temple so we can clear this up?

Dear Mr. Rochester, Unfortunately Paige missed her last two sessions of mathematics and science. She’s in danger of falling behind. Of course her academic progress is of utmost importance. Please contact my office immediately.

Basically, if there was a principal’s office, we’d all be inside right now.