Rose Hargrove at four years old was, as Mrs. Aldren had predicted from the beginning, a person with strong opinions delivered directly.
She had opinions about breakfast, about the direction of morning walks, about whether clouds were interesting or not on any given day, about which books were worth revisiting and which were not, about the management of Thomas, about the correct way to greet the old oak, which she had developed a relationship with that involved a daily update on the state of things.
The oak received these updates with the equanimity of something seven hundred years old.
She had recently added a new opinion to her portfolio. She had decided that she wanted to know more about the beginning.
Not the family beginning, which she was receiving in the appropriate doses for a f
