The Monday of the Week of Misery

I drove the wagon into town early this morning after receiving a message yesterday that Abigail's parents would be arriving today. I arrived in town around 9 o'clock, had a cup of coffee and sat and waited for nearly an hour. Around 10:30, the stagecoach rolled into the station. The horses panted and pawed the ground as the driver jumped down and opened the door. A gloved hand took hold of the driver's outstretched arm and he helped my mother-in-law out of the coach. She stepped gracefully into the dusty road and breathed deep as she took in her surroundings. She was smiling; a good sign. As she continued to look around I stepped forward to welcome her. Our eyes met, and her smile disappeared quicker than the songbirds before a rainstorm.
She greeted me through pursed lips as Rufus climbed out of the coach. He nodded to me, put his arm around his wife, nodded towards their luggage, and walked to the wagon with that same old limp the War of 1812 gave him. I loaded their bags into the wagon and began the long, silent journey back to the house.
When we arrived at the house they happily greeted their daughter and their grandchildren, leaving me to carry their bags to Isaac-Albert's room. Isaac-Albert will be sleeping in the barn temporarily.
Dinner was uncomfortable and so far Rufus and Rebecca seem to be giving me the cold shoulder. I cannnot decide whether I prefer this to the usual constant barrage of criticisms, but I do know that I am not looking forward to the remainder of their visit.