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    “Mr. Jenness sent for me, Mr. Leffler. Is he in?”
    “In his office, Reese. You can go right ahead.”
    The office was not a separate room, but a large space off the main floor. The furniture was set up in such a way that privacy could be had. Reese stepped around a tall bookshelf to find Mr. Jenness at his desk.
    “Mr. Jenness?”
    “Ah, yes,” he greeted. “Sit down, Miss Thackery.”
    Reese began to relax. Few people addressed her as Miss Thackery, but he sounded as though he was pleased. She hoped he could direct her concerning Mr. Zantow’s goods and took one of the wooden chairs, sure she was there for that very reason.
    “It has come to my attention that Mr. Zantow has passed away.”
    “Yes, sir. Just this week.”
    Mr. Jenness, feeling very good about his decision, nodded complacently.
    “It has also come to my attention that he has a large outstanding debt with this bank.”
    This was a surprise to Reese, but she didn’t comment. He had lived very well, and she had assumed he was more than comfortable.
    “It is the decision of this bank to sell his home and all his possessions.”
    Reese nodded, assuming this was the best course of action.
    “Unfortunately this will not cover his debt. So it is also the decision of this bank to retain your indenture contract until such time as you would have ceased to work for Mr. Zantow.”
    Reese stared at the man, wishing he would repeat his last sentence.
    “Is that clear to you, Miss Thackery?”
    “The bank will own my papers? I’m indentured to the Tucker Mills Bank?”
    “Yes,” he replied, actually smiling. “I’m glad we understand each other.”
    “I have no money, Mr. Jenness.”
    “Of course you don’t.” He frowned. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be an indentured servant.”
    “Where will I live?”
    “Where will you live?”
    “Yes. You said Mr. Zantow’s home is to be sold.”
    The frown deepened. Mr. Jenness had not thought of this.
    “Well,” he improvised swiftly, his voice sharpening a bit. “You’ll be given a small stipend for rent. I’m sure you can find a place.”
    “And food?”
    “Yes, and food.” Sharper still. “You shouldn’t need much!”
    Reese’s disappointment was so keen that for a moment she couldn’t move or speak. She had thought she was free, and now it would be two more years. Or would it?
    “I wish for you to tell me exactly what my papers say. I wish to know how long the bank will own my contract.”
    Mr. Jenness did not look pleased about it, but he rustled through a few sheets on his desk and came up with the right document.
    “Let’s see,” he peered at the paper. “The original contract with your father is for February 29, 1834, and you became the primary concern in May of 1835. That means you have 19 months to go. This is July, so you will be released in February of 1841.”
    Wanting to check the dates for herself, Reese put out her hand and the papers were given to her. She tried to find some comfort in what she saw, but at the moment she was at a loss. Mr. Jenness was staring at her oddly, and she wondered what her face looked like.
    “What exactly will I do?” she remembered to ask.
    “For starters, you’ll ready all of Mr. Zantow’s belongings for auction or sale. After that is taken care of, you’ll report here each morning for a list of jobs. Cleaning this office twice a week will be on that list.”
    Reese nodded, wondering at the feeling of numbness that was stealing over her. She’d received bad news in the past, but none that seemed to affect her like this.
    “Do I live at the house until it sells?”
    “Of course not! It must be in a salable condition! I’ll expect it to be cleaned, and I’ll be checking the job myself. You must move out today.”
    Reese didn’t know what she looked like when he said this, but her expression must have registered alarm, since he began to recant.
    “Well, actually,” he said as he cleared his throat and began to stack papers, “I