She looked at me as if she just realized she
wasn't talking to herself aloud.
"I've prepared a nice chicken salad for the two of us. Do you want a baked potato as well? It won't
take long."
"No, the salad is quite enough for me." "Determined to lose weight now, are you?" "Yes. I am," I said. I wondered if I should say
any more about Rhona, about her wanting me out. I
decided for now I would just ignore it and see what I
could do to help Tyler with Echo. "Let me help with
the table," I said, but she told me everything was
already done.
"I had to keep myself busy so I wouldn't be
nervous about Echo going off with Rhona in that junk
heap."
I helped her bring the food into the dining room
and we sat at the table, just the two of us. I watched
her nibble at her food. Lifting a fork seemed to be a
treat effort for her.
To me it seemed as if a strange thing had
happened with Rhona's return: Mrs. Westington,
instead of finding any pleasure and hope in this
reunion, grew older instantly because of it. Rhona was
like a dark storm aggravating Mrs. Westington's
arthritis, invading her very bones. She moved slower,
looked much more fatigued and simply overwhelmed. I was sure that for a time early on in her marriage and life with Mr. Westington, the world was joyful and bright. The vineyard prospered. They had friends and parties. Their home and property glistened with success. Her beauty was nourished by the happiness and she blossomed, Before Rhona became their problem child. there were waves and waves of laughter rolling over this house and family. Neighbors and other people who knew them or of them were envious. Many wondered why it was some people were so successful and so lucky. Why weren't they as
blessed as the Westingtons?
And then Mrs. Westington's life took a dark
turn. The death of their newborn, the battle with her
brother-in-law, the growing discipline problems with
a rebellious Rhona, and eventually Mr. Westington's
death sent her spiraling down a long, seemingly