the far corner.
"Where should we begin?" she asked, buttering
her bread. She looked up when I didn't respond. "I don't know. Probably with my meeting up
with Uncle Palaver."
She nodded. "Good. I don't want to talk about
Celia."
"You haven't heard from her since--" "No. That's over. Go on, tell me what it was
like being on the road with him, doing those shows." I described it as best I could. She ate and
listened. but I felt she was looking past the stories and
the descriptions. She was studying me so hard. When
I described Uncle Palaver and his Destiny, she shook
her head.
"I really did use to wonder about that. He never
brought her around. There was always one excuse or
another. How sad. Where's the doll?"
"I still have it. I won't let it go,"
"I see. And after he died, this old lady just took
you into her home to be with her deaf
granddaughter?"
"Yes," I said. "Mrs. Westington."
"Well, what's that been like, living there?" I talked so long and enthusiastically about
Trevor. Echo, Tyler. and Mrs. Westington, Brenda's
eves just remained wide the whole time. She smiled
and nodded and then. when I began to talk about
Rhona and Skeeter, her face darkened. I told her what
they had done to Echo and me, about their arrest and
their upcoming trials.
"I'll have to be a witness, of course."
"All this just happened to you?"
"Yes, and to Echo."