Chapter Twenty
Willa found it therapeutic to putter around in her garden. She tended to the plantings she had put in the ground herself and tried not to dwell on her irritation about Sid’s recent innovations. As she was digging to aerate the soil around her roses, she found a daisy that seemed out of place. So she plucked it and pulled at its petals.
“My daddy loves me… loves me not… loves me… loves me not…”
Rufus barked – twice.
Willa turned around to find Sharon Larson, a twenty-something frail blonde, standing directly behind her. She was holding the hand of a toe-headed toddler in a corduroy jumper, who looked drowsy and listless, perhaps overdue for his afternoon nap.
“Excuse me,” the girl said, in the softest voice. She must’ve been even sneakier in her approach than Phyllis, be
