But somewhere underneath the wage, in eighteen years of Mondays and rainy afternoons and apples from the orchard, the two of us had quietly become something the paperwork had no name for and my heart knew perfectly well what to call.

Chapter 4 — The Bedrock

Over the years, I came to know that house better than anyone alive, including its owner.

I polished the heavy mahogany banisters until they glowed.

I knew which floorboards complained and which windows stuck.

And in the last years, when Mr.