I was the only one she talked to about Eddie Castrol but I soon grew impatient with her and then she didn’t confide in me anymore. What a relief that was. Sidney and I had a quiet period. He was busy with his book. I think he was having a good deal of trouble with it. With writers it’s best to leave them alone at times like this. They only snap at you if you try to help. No one can help me now, he’d say, like a drowning man. My only real pleasure in life was his boy, Howard. He was with us for Thanksgiving and again for the Christmas holiday. We were going up to Ravenswood. I wasn’t looking forward to it. Oh, Ravenswood. That goddamn house. How I hated it. To me it was hell. I hadn’t known a day of happiness in that house since Harriet died. I’d once believed that when at last I left I would never return. Ha. It pulled me back. It sucked me in. We turned off the river road and into the drive. It was late afternoon and the fog was rolling up from the river. The pines were shrouded but not the tower.
