Paper Castles Read Online Free PDF Page A

city streets of Dallas. Waving, smiling. Then shots rang out and the world stood still.
    The horror dredged up guilt in Savannah. It clung to her like blood clung to Jackie Kennedy’s pink Chanel suit. She got up and paced around the room in an attempt to shrug off the ugliness of her behavior. She’d been gallivanting around, plotting indiscretion, oblivious to the consequences. Her recklessness was tied up with the assassination. One finger on a trigger could unglue the world and change the course of history. The match she had struck this morning could burn down her house.
    She was sickened by herself. Her hands trembled as she poured vodka over ice and stirred the concoction slowly. She returned to the couch and gathered Angela close. They were still there when Price came home.
    Neenie went to the kitchen to prepare a cold supper. Price wedged next to Savannah after flinging his coat on the chair. He ruffled PJ’s hair affectionately and leaned to kiss Angela’s head.
    “Oh, Daddy.” Angela said, sniffling.
    “I know, Baby Girl.”
    Price glanced at Savannah and reached over to pat her leg. Once she would’ve been comforted by his strong hand, his touch assuring her everything was going to be all right. But tonight’s gesture was absent-minded and perfunctory. Nothing was all right.
    “The whole damn world is coming undone,” Price mumbled. “We’ve got Negroes marching in the streets and now people think they can assassinate presidents.”
    Savannah looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Indeed, her entire world was coming undone. And not only for the reasons Price mentioned.

T HANKSGIVING DAY was marred by the endless coverage of the assassination and the televised funeral. Still, the entire family was expected at the Palmertons’ and a worthy meal would be served. Thanksgiving was serious business to Neenie Bailey.
    She barked last-minute instructions to her kitchen troops, including Savannah and her mother, Beverly.
    “The D-Day invasion took less planning than Neenie’s holiday dinners.” Beverly muttered, risking being overhead by their General.
    Savannah was putting the finishing touches on a platter of deviled eggs, one of the few tasks Neenie trusted her with. Beverly chopped onions and stalks of celery, lending an air of expert style to the mundane task. Although Savannah had studied her mother for a lifetime, she’d never been able to mimic Beverly’s natural grace.
    Beverly Wilkinson was the epitome of a Southern Belle. When she married Jack Kendall, later Judge Kendall, she became the perfect southern wife. Her parties were legendary: people still talked about a certain formal dinner when guests in black-tie, a Supreme Court justice among them, gathered around the barbecue in the back yard to make s’mores.
    Savannah sighed. If people only knew about the dark secrets tucked behind the floral drapes in Beverly’s immaculate home.
    “Are you all right, darling?” Beverly nudged Savannah with her elbow as she gathered up the pile of freshly chopped onions and celery into a large bowl. “You seem out of sorts.”
    “Of course. Everything’s fine.”
    Everything is always fine. Even when it isn’t.
    What would her mother say if Savannah sat her down and told her the truth? She’d often dreamt of having the kind of relationship where Beverly would nudge her with her elbow, saying Are you all right, darling? You seem out of sorts. And Savannah would pull her aside and say, No Momma, I’m not all right. Let me tell you what’s going on.
    They’d never had that kind of relationship and it certainly wasn’t going to start now. It never got easier, this mother-daughter dance. The roles solidified since birth kept them locked in a performance that rarely veered from the original script. An off-Broadway production where they read their tired lines to an empty theatre.
    I’m fine, Momma. Everything’s fine .
    “It’s just this whole last week. You know.” Savannah plucked a piece of