“What? Really?” Barrett asked. He shot me a look that was . . . strange. Almost as if he was suddenly a little afraid of me.

“Yes, and she’s a great comfort,” Mr. Albright said.

Like the money from his friend’s yacht fund, the wind had gone out of Barrett’s conversational sails. Apparently fresh out of mean things to say, he took a step back.

“All right,” he said. He licked his lips. “Okay.”

Mr. Albright made a little salute, looked at us both with eager attentiveness, then swooshed back down the stairs.

I assumed Barrett would turn away without another word. But he stared at my feet for a second, then looked up at me. “What are you doing for Agatha? Are you a nurse?”

“I’m her companion.”

“Companion,” he repeated, not totally understanding. “How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” I said.

“But you live here?” he said. “How does that work? Do you go to school?”

If there had been half a hint of condescension in the question, I wouldn’t have answered. But he was still strangely sheepish.

“Your parents took me in,” I said, unable to keep the ice out of my voice. “My family just died, and now I’m an orphan.”

He had the grace not to respond.

“And it’s summer,” I said, enjoying the chance to make him look dumb. “Nobody’s in school right now.”

“Right,” he said.

Without another word, I slipped back into the nursery and left him standing in the hallway.

LATER, I HEARD Barrett going downstairs and opened the door to listen to his reunion with Laura and Agatha. I stayed where I was, thinking I’d have a chance to check in with Laura when she brought Agatha up to the nursery. But an hour passed, and another, and they didn’t come up. When I heard John’s voice boom a cheerful greeting, I cracked the door again and listened to their hellos.

I realized miserably that the whole family was down there without me.

It was like I didn’t exist.