Paper Castles

by Terri Lee

  “You look beautiful, Savvy,” Price said. The nickname dredged up a memory from their wedding night: Price never called her Savvy until he was her husband. As if he’d finally earned the right to use it. Their new intimacy now allowing shortcuts with one another.

  After a beat he leaned closer and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  Sorry.

  For the affairs? For late nights and harsh words? For all of it?

  She’d taken him back before, when she still had a heart full of love to draw on. She wanted him back, wanted to make it work. But the tank was empty now. Without love, what was guiding her?

  Her children, of course. Thoughts of them bouncing back and forth in the wreckage of a marriage kept her up at night. If she smashed her life like a mirror, Angela and PJ would have to walk across the broken glass. If she was a fool to take Price back, so be it. She’d be that fool. For her children.

  She wove her fingers with Price’s. Her hand fit perfectly in his. It always had.

  “Listen, Savvy,” Price said. “I know we’ve gotten off course, but you’re my Valentine. Always have been.”

  Savannah leaned back and looked at him. Neenie always said he was too handsome for his own good. Price wore confidence like a perfectly tailored dress shirt. The same way she wore him. Her dress matching his tie, her hand fitting snugly in his.

  But she wasn’t a prom queen anymore. Not some starry-eyed college girl. She was a woman who could make her own bed.

  Price kissed her forehead. “I want our family back,” he said.

  “Me, too.”

  She leaned back again and let his lips take hers. They were warm. She remembered his kiss. It belonged to her.

  Sometimes.

  Shoving the thought aside, she slid her arms up around his neck and pressed closer.

  “Yes?” Price said.

  “Yes,” she said. Her tongue wet her lips and Price was reeled in. He kissed her as if they were alone in their room. She tightened her arms. It didn’t feel so bad.

  They stayed on the dance floor through several songs. Foreheads pressed together, hands twined, swaying back and forth, and feet barely shuffling to the music. Both afraid to break the fragile spell. They were suspended in a bubble, hovering above the crowd.

  Anyone looking on would never guess how many other bubbles Price had let drift away. It occurred to Savannah that she had no idea what any of the other couples in this room might be going through. Perhaps some of them were wearing plastic smiles as well.

  “Get a room,” someone at the edge of the dance floor shouted to the Palmertons.

  Price laughed, grabbed Savannah’s hand and led her to a table of friends.

  “You two looked mighty cozy out there,” Millie Kimble said.

  Savannah was ten years old when Millie rode into town on the tail end of a storm and landed the next block over. From that day on she was a whirlwind in Savannah’s life, full of crazy ideas and dreams enough for both of them. Alphabetical seating always had them bunched together in class and school activities. They were a package deal, known to all as Kendall and Kimble.

  When Price had an affair with his secretary, nearly bringing down both his house and his office, Millie had been there for Savannah. A hand-holder. A shoulder. A defender. A plotter of revenge.

  Savannah had confided in Millie, just the once. Never again for the affairs that came after. She was too embarrassed to reach out again, even to such a dear friend. Too humiliated to admit that she was a woman who couldn’t keep her husband at home. Too full of shame to see the questions in an old friend’s eyes.

  Millie’s natural effervescence had once drawn Savannah in, made her open like a flower in the sunshine, but Savannah had let the relationship deliberately grow cold in recent years, afraid she wouldn’t be able to keep up the pretense of a happy marriage. Now, wrapped up in Millie’s scented hug, Savannah realized how much she missed her old friend.

  “I haven’t seen you in ages,” Millie said. “Of course, we missed the New Year’s party. We were out of town. I saw all the pictures of you and Kip in the paper. You looked gorgeous, as always. What else is going on?”

  “Oh you know,” Savannah said. “Just busy. Kids.”

  Millie stared at her, “Are you sure that’s all? Every time I’ve called, you’ve been busy.”

  “I know. Things have been crazy.”

  “Like what?” Millie leaned in, chin on her palm. Dark bangs framed a pair of green eyes that could see straight through bullshit. Millie was an expert interrogator. She could quickly assess a person’s defenses and once she found the wall’s weak spot, she would chip away until the frail veneer cracked.

  Savannah, however, was an expert at changing the subject. She squeezed Millie’s hand. “Where does someone get a drink around here?’

  Millie turned in her seat and signaled the waiter. “Two vodka tonics, my good man. And be quick about it.”

  They chatted over drinks and a longing in Savannah began to curl around Millie’s laughter. She missed this girlfriend. Perhaps now that things had settled down with Price, she could pick up what had been set aside, including friendships hanging in limbo.

  Out the corner of her eye, she watched the circle of men around Price grow larger. Heads fell back as laughter roared, backs were slapped in appreciation of a joke well told. They were like a bunch of boys playing football, with Price starring as the quarterback. Calling all the plays and taking all the glory. Price had the group eating out of his hand, leaning in to catch every word. Men loved him.

  Problem was, women loved him too.

  Now on her second drink, Savannah felt her joints loosen up. She’d taken Neenie’s advice and had steered clear of the nightly cocktails since Christmas. The vodka hit her bloodstream tonight like an old friend and the comforting warmth dissolved into her bones.

  “I better get something to eat,” she said to Millie, standing up. “Come with me?”

  “I have to stop by the powder room, first.”

  Price waved to Savannah from a group of his law partners. It looked like a serious discussion, best avoided. She pointed to the buffet and he nodded in return.

  As Savannah made her way to the end of the line, she caught a slice of conversation from the two women ahead of her.

  “Well that’s not what I heard,” one of the them said, relish in her voice. “I heard Price has practically moved out and he’s busy burning the midnight oil, if you know what I mean.”

  The other woman turned at that moment to see who was standing behind her and a look of guilty alarm crossed her face. “Savannah, how good to see you,” she cried.

  It was Sarah Littleton, Savannah’s old tennis partner. She squeezed the elbow of her gossiping companion as she leaned to kiss Savannah’s cheek. Savannah kissed the air over Sarah’s shoulder, all her instincts rearing up.

  They’re talking about Price. And me. What do people know? What don’t I know?

  “You look fabulous.” Sarah’s demeanor slid from guilty to patronizing. She turned to the red-faced woman beside her. “Delores, this is Savannah Palmerton.”

  Even in the dim lights Savannah could see Delores blushing. “Nice to meet you,” she stammered.

  “Likewise,” Savannah said, the lie sitting like an olive pit on her tongue. She looked for a place to spit it out.

  Small talk engulfed her. She did her best to smile and respond when necessary as the line to the buffet inched along like a funeral procession.

  Swallowing her anxiety, the olive pit moved to her stomach.

  Who the hell is this woman? How could she possibly know anything about me?

  She probably doesn’t. Just calm down.

  But I heard her say Price.

  Maybe I imagined it.

  Her gut knew better.

  She returned to her seat but her appetite was gone. She took two bites before sliding her plate across the starched tablecloth. Catching the waiter’s eye, she lifted her glass. He brought another vodka tonic j
ust as Price dropped into the chair next to her.

  “Sorry, I got waylaid. I didn’t mean to leave you unattended.” His hand rested on top of hers. “You all right?”

  “Fine.”

  He looked at her for a moment, then decided to accept her short answer.

  Millie and her husband Griff joined them, along with a third couple. Savannah pulled her plate back to her and pushed her food around it, uninterested in dinner or silly conversation. Her thoughts were swirling.

  That’s not what I heard.

  The words became part of the decorations, bouncing off the pink and red hearts hanging from streamers on the ceiling.

  What had Delores heard?

  Savannah kept stealing glances at Price as if she might find a clue, but the face he turned to her offered her nothing new.

  That’s not what I heard.

  She tried to push it aside, but it kept landing right back in her lap. Her throat tightening, she looked over at Millie. Do you know? Did you hear? But Millie had her back to Savannah and didn’t see the trembling lip.

  Price excused himself from the table. In his wake, Savannah fanned herself with the program card, as she signaled the waiter for another drink.

  Calm down.

  It’s gossip, nothing more.

  She’d lived through gossip before. Tonight was supposed to be a fresh start, she reminded herself. The last thing she needed was to think that people were standing around talking about her marriage.

  Savannah looked around the room, her eyes scanning the guests, imagining their gazes flicking away guiltily. Then her attention was drawn to the terrace doors. It was dark, but she knew Price’s silhouette in an instant. He was talking to a woman. A woman’s hand reached through the air and touched his arm. A proprietary touch. A soft gesture that was like a slap in Savannah’s face.

  He was shaking his head now, looking uncomfortable. The woman’s hand was on his tie. Stroking it. Price’s look went from uncomfortable to willing. With a smile he took the hand in his and walked away, the woman trailing behind.

  The thin thread holding Savannah’s heart in place broke. Her resolve drained away as if she’d sprung a leak.

  Fate was a cruel partner. Floating by with a balloon of hope, watching as Savannah reached on tiptoes, reaching for the string, daring to take it. As soon as her fingers went to close, the balloon was yanked away.

  That’s not what I heard.

  The affair wasn’t over. Not only was it not over, but it was here. In Savannah’s face. On her turf.

  How dare he?

  She was stunned by Price’s level of cruelty and furious at her own level of gullibility.

  She gulped her cocktail like it was a shot of whiskey, then asked for another.

  “Boy, you are thirsty,” Millie said, laughing. “Slow down.”

  Why didn’t she get up and follow Price? Half of her wanted to stand on the table and point everyone’s attention to her husband slinking out the door with another woman. The other half wanted to crawl underneath it. She was a mass of contradictions in a cocktail dress. She tried to move her feet but they refused to listen. Perhaps they knew better. Her feet would keep her from making a spectacle of herself. Another piece of gossip to discuss around the buffet line.

  “Did you hear the one about Savannah Palmerton losing it at the Valentine’s Day dance?”

  That’s not what I heard.

  She looked over to see Price walk back in, rubbing her off of his lips and smoothing his hair. His gestures reminded Savannah of a B-list actor playing the part of the philandering husband.

  He swooped down and kissed her on the cheek, an unmistakable floral scent mingling with his cologne. “There’s my beautiful bride,” he said, holding out his hand. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

  She lifted her eyes to his, not saying a word as she placed her fingers in his grasp. She got up, unsteady on her feet, and leaned on Price’s arm as they made their way to the dance floor.

  “Who were you talking to?” she asked.

  “When?” He pulled her into a slow dance.

  “Just now.”

  “No one. What are you talking about?”

  “I saw you, Price. With a woman. You walked outside with her, holding hands.”

  “I don’t know what you think you saw, but I’m not doing this tonight.”

  Savannah almost choked on the gall this man possessed. Kissing her with a tongue that begged her to trust him one minute then sneaking outside for an illicit rendezvous the next.

  The entire club was full of eyes. Couples swirling, dresses twirling, all laughing as they sped by. Laughing at her. Pointing fingers as the merry-go-round spun out of control.

  That’s not what I heard.

  “Where is she?” Savannah said. “I want to tell her she can have you.”

  “Calm down, Savannah,” Price said through clenched teeth, his lips curled in a smile. “I think you’ve had enough to drink. We wouldn’t want your dirty little secret to get out now would we?”

  She looked up into his eyes and spoke through her teeth as well. “My dirty little secret is already out. Everyone knows I’m married to a man who can’t keep his zipper up.”

  “Touché, darling.”

  His condescending tone was the trigger. Her arm reared back and Price caught her by the wrist before she could make contact, fingers digging into her soft flesh. She didn’t know if she was more surprised at herself or the message Price’s grip was sending her.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he said.

  “I’m doing more than thinking about it. Let go of me or I’ll scream this place down.”

  She didn’t flinch during his quick assessment of her intentions. Cold eyes swept over her face. He lowered her arm to her side, still holding her wrist in check. His eyes darted around the room searching for witnesses.

  “Listen to me,” he said, his mouth at her ear. “We’re going to walk over to the table. Get our things, say good-bye and leave before you make a fool out of yourself. And me. In front of everyone I do business with.”

  He was as cold as she was hot. He ushered her from the dance floor, his grip relaxing only when they reached the table.

  “We’re heading out,” he said. “Savannah’s not feeling well.

  She fumbled with her coat and purse. Millie looked over at her with a big question mark on her face, her head cocked to one side. Savannah leaned down and kissed Millie on the cheek, whispering, “I’ll call you later.”

  Price was so sure she would play her part accordingly. She did, but not for his sake.

  “You’re a bastard, Price.”

  “And you’re drunk.”

  “Not drunk enough.”

  The fight spilled from the car and oozed through the front door like an oil slick. Savannah was on fire, anger raging through her veins, consuming everything in its path.

  Throwing her purse on the hall table, she stormed into the living room tearing at the buttons on her coat. It went flying toward the sofa, missed, and landed in a defeated heap on the floor. Crystal decanters rattled as she poured amnesia over ice.

  “That’s just what you need, another goddamn drink,” Price said.

  “Don’t try to change the subject.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. We’re having so much fun.” Price collapsed in his chair.

  “Who is she, Price?” Savannah turned on him. “Since everyone else knows about her, why shouldn’t I?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know what I’m talking about. Who is she?”

  “How the hell should I know? You’re the one making up this story. You fill in the blanks.”

  “Why add more lying to your list of crimes?”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “You lie so well, you believe yourself.” Savannah drained her glass and moved to the bar cart for a refill.

  “You’ve used that line before.”

  “Because it’s true.”

 
“I’m not going to be held responsible for some silliness you overheard from a woman you’ve never met. You’ve spun this entire scenario out of thin air. Like you always do.”

  “I saw what I saw. I’m not crazy, Price.”

  “The jury’s still out on that.”

  She whirled around. “How dare you.”

  “I’m not going to fight with you anymore tonight,” Price rose from his chair. “You’re drunk. Go to bed, Savannah. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Out. I have some business to attend to. Some people in this family have to work.”

  “Out?” She screamed the word. “At this hour? You’re getting sloppy, Price. You’re not even trying to cover your tracks.”

  Price looked coolly at her, “I have nothing to cover.”

  “What makes you think I’ll be here when you get back?”

  “Feel free to leave anytime you like.” Price was utterly composed in the face of her torment.

  “I’ve had enough, Price. I want a divorce.” Words that had been hanging like a pendulum swung free. Slicing through seventeen years with one clean cut. She might have been knocked to her knees earlier in the evening, but she was on up on her hind legs now. And she was fierce. A force to be reckoned with. A volcano in a high heels.

  She was shaking, but through the anger her thoughts crystallized. Her marriage played out before her eyes. Every word that had been said leading up to this defining moment. Every look. Every whisper. Every lie, an omen. Perfectly exposed. Illuminated. She walked around each incident, seeing it from every angle.

  Never had her thoughts been so clear. She was at once out of control, and in complete command. She was both in the moment and standing outside herself

  “You want a divorce? You got it.” Price walked up to her, ice in his eyes. “Be careful what you wish for. Don’t think for a minute you’re taking my children with you. I’ve kept my part of the bargain.”

  “Bargain?” Savannah was incredulous.

  “Yes.” Price said. “I’ve provided you with a beautiful home and the country club life. You’re the toast of Savannah society.”