The first time Bruce came downstairs and found me on my knees mopping his kitchen floor at five in the morning, he stopped in the doorway with his coffee and just looked at me for a moment.

“You’re a member of this household,” he said quietly. “Not an employee. Nobody here is keeping score of what you’re worth.”

“I don’t want to be a burden to you,” I said. I was still holding the mop.

He came in and set his coffee down. “A burden is something you put up with,” he said.

“You and the girls aren’t something I’m putting up with. You’re a family I chose. On purpose.” His voice caught, just slightly, on the word family, and he looked away when it did, and I understood that whatever had brought this guarded man to stand between me and Agatha in that dining room, it was old, and it was personal.

It was Mabel, later, who told me the rest of it.