Casteel 05 Web of Dreams Read Online Free PDF

spring, as if we had turned back time or entered a kingdom that never experienced a bleak, dreary day.
And then I looked up at the great house and thought I was right to think of this place as a storybook realm. The huge building made of gray stone did resemble a castle. The roof was red and soared, forming turrets and small red bridges connecting portions of the high roof that would have been inaccessible otherwise. I could just imagine the views from the windows on the upper floors. Surely, you could see the ocean from there.
As we drew closer and closer, the house seemed to grow taller and wider. I thought it was at least as big as half a city block. Our town house could easily fit inside it with room for a few more. As we got closer, Momma cut her eyes toward me, watching for my reaction. She stayed silent but drove right up to the wide stone steps that led to an enormous arching front door, a door that looked so heavy and thick, I imagined it must have taken ten men to bring it there.
"We're here," Momma declared and shut off the engine. Almost instantly, an attendant came around to open her door for her. He was a tall, dark man, perhaps only in his early twenties. He wore a chauffeur's uniform and took his hat off as we stepped out of the car.
"Good afternoon, Miles," Momma said. "This is my daughter Leigh."
Miles looked at me quickly. I thought he was rather shy, but cute, and quickly tried to imagine what it would be like to have him as a boyfriend. I wondered nervously whether he thought I was pretty and I couldn't keep my face from turning crimson. I wondered if Momma noticed.
"Pleased to meet you, Miss Leigh," he said and nodded. It sounded so funny and so stuffy to be greeted so formally, but before I could even think of smiling, Momma shot a look of expectation at me.
"Thank you, Miles," I said. "I'm pleased to meet you, too." He moved quickly behind the steering wheel to park our car.
"Miles is Mr. Tatterton's chauffeur," Momma explained as we started up the steps. "He's only been here two weeks."
Before we reached the door, it was opened by the butler, a very tall, thin man with a sad, deeply creased face that made me think of Abraham Lincoln. He had his thin, dark brown hair brushed back and lying flat with a part nearly at center.
He moved so slowly and so softly, he made me think of an undertaker.
"Good afternoon, Curtis," Momma said. "This is my daughter Leigh."
"Good afternoon." Curtis nodded, his eyes down as if he were greeting royalty, and then stepped back to let us enter. "Mr. Tatterton is awaiting you in the music room."
"Thank you," Momma said and we moved down the enormous entryway. "He's only in his late twenties, but he looks like someone's grandfather," she whispered and then giggled. Momma was acting more excited than I'd ever seen her, almost like a little girl, or someone my very own age. It made me nervous, almost scared, but I didn't know why. I only knew I wanted her to stop, to act like a mother again.
Trying to take my mind off my silly uneasiness I looked at the dozens of enormous ancestral portraits we were passing, as well as pictures of beautiful horses, pictures of the ocean, pictures, pictures, pictures, and great drapes spread over the marble walls, too. Against the walls were white and black marble tables and ornamental stone benches, obviously far too uncomfortable and cold to sit upon. Ahead of us was a long, circular staircase twice, no, three times as long and as wide as ours. Above us was a tremendous chandelier with so many bulbs in it, I imagined it was as bright as the sun whenever it was turned on. The floors of the entryway were covered with enormous Persian rugs that looked so clean and new, it seemed sinful to walk over them.
"Come along," Momma urged, and I followed beside her as we walked past an enormous living room. I caught a glimpse of a grand piano. We stopped at the doorway of the music room and I gazed up at the domed ceiling arching overhead. There was a tall