Bernice said to Emily, pointing up, as they walked from the illegal spot where she’d left the car. Baltimore’s Washington Monument stood fifty yards away, its base like an emperor’s tomb, the high column sticking up into the soupy evening, George himself atop it dressed in a toga and holding what...
At the president's reception in Byron, New York, there is caviar in silver dishes, expensive wine served by waiters in black tie. In a corner of the room, by an enormous window that overlooks the postcard-perfect, sloping front lawn of the college, its bright green tongue leading the eye to a hor...