I write you from a makeshift desk covered in a pink, laced cloth, which Cristal has fashioned for me for my convenience in correspondence. I do appreciate the fact that I am able to view the scene outside this upstairs window as I write to you. I have just seen John Wickon confronting Tomas Velasquez as he wanders the town like a lost lamb, searching for something of which I know not. I hear occasional outbursts through the walls on my left, and though I do not wish to gossip, it sounds as if Suzanne Wickon is discontent with her house guest of the moment - Rebecca Parkington. I have heard "I guess she won't leave if I don't serve her muffins," and "shall I polish her BOOTS for her as well?" And other such utterances.
Cristal has treated me tolerably so far, and I have found, to my surprise, that her cooking is not below average. As far as conversation goes, I find that Katherine will say what I believe Cristal would wish unsaid, and I find that extremely amusing.
The tension-filled silences after Katherine blurts out the truth are telling indeed. I hope you are well, and the girls. I have seen for myself that Father and William are well, although I believe that business at the Store goes poorly.
Your loving daughter,