Oh my God, she lives in the fucking White House.

Okay, not exactly, but it's close enough in size to be confused for the presidential dwelling. Through the windshield of my truck, I stare though the gate to the long driveway beyond—and I see Renee waiting on the steps. When she spots my truck, she stands up and waves enthusiastically, no idea that she's supposed to make me knock. Make me sweat while she takes another half an hour to get ready upstairs. No, she's one of a kind, this girl.

My ...