Being our house-girl, Cassie had her own room below the stairs, space for a bed and a chair. Allowing her our new boys must have been Mama’s way of ...ompensating. How she managed to fit one onto her bed with her, I could hardly imagine, except, course, I could.Sometimes I’d sneak down the stairs and listen to what sounded far more fun than Mama and Papa. At the end, Cassie would hum.“I declare, girl.” I once heard Mama chuckle to her, “You get it more times in a night than I get in a. ”“Well, you live in a pretty swanky neighborhood. I imagine that the mortgage eats up a lot of his income,” I said dismissively.“Technically, my parents own the house,” she admitted sheepishly. “We’re renting it. They live in Thousand Oaks. Basically, we’re paying the property taxes and upkeep.”I frowned. “That doesn’t seem right,” I told her. “If you don’t have huge bills for anything, where’s his salary going?”“He doesn’t make great money,” she shrugged.I shook my head. “My wife is the top. More

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