Chapter 9 — The Book of Names

Somewhere in January I found the ledger, and it broke my heart open in a different place than the basket had.

It was an ordinary account book, and for a while I read it as one, columns of jobs and prices in Franny’s hand going back years.

But the longer I read the more I saw the pattern under the numbers, and the pattern was this: for a great many people, over a great many years, the price column simply said, in her small square letters, no. Not zero. No, the way you’d wave off a friend reaching for their wallet.

Mr.