Catch a Shooting Star jd edit 03 12 2012 html Read Free Page A

her nineteenth birthday.  Flattered though she was, she argued with him to change his mind so that they could celebrate quietly, together—alone.  But he was adamant in his desire to make this birthday as memorable as any that she would have, so she finally conceded and brought paper and pen to him so that he could make lists of guests and embellishments for the occasion.
    He seemed to heal himself with the preparations for the party and even started to walk on his own, strutting around with the aid of a silver-handled cane announcing his displeasure in the decorations that were going up in the grand ballroom.  His booming voice echoed throughout the house with his loud declaration that the crystal punch bowl that he had ordered was not large enough to suit him.
    “Damn Yankee catalogue company,” he growled, dropping a dainty crystal cup onto the pink silk cloth that covered the long table at the end of the gallery.  “You’d think they would be smart enough to tell you the dimensions of their products instead of just drawing a weak rendition of it.  When people pay that much for something, you’d think they would get their money’s worth.”
    He stomped out of the room, just as Savannah was entering and he brushed by her in a rage, his voice never wavering from his angry outburst, “They won the war and now they want to take everything we own.  And they will get it.  If it’s not from their carpetbaggers or their outrageous taxes, they’ll get it through their unscrupulous sales tactics.  Devil’s minions, all of ‘em!”
    Savannah watched Father stride toward the front of the house and out the large mahogany door, her face awash with unvoiced questions.  What had caused this sudden burst of anger, she did not know, but what was certain was that his mood would not improve if she told him of her plans to boycott his precious party.
    She would have to wait.  She walked into the gallery and looked at the silk-covered table that took up most of the back wall.  She strolled over to the table.  With a delicate touch, she ran a hand across each of the things that it held.
             The table was covered in all manners of crystal glasses, silver dishes and fine china.  A large crystal bowl with a matching crystal ladle dominated the center of the table, its fine etchings were its crowning glory.  She stared at the cavernous bowl with a questioning frown as she wondered why Father had complained of its impractical size.  Then she picked up the catalogue that had fallen to the floor and looked at the page that was facing her.
                There, on the page was a picture of the punch bowl and its matching cups and ladle.  Beside the picture was a paragraph describing the product and next it was a price for which the patron would pay.
                “Oh, my!” Savannah breathed as she looked from the book to the bowl and back again in surprise.  “What a costly thing you are!”
                Immediately filled with guilt for wanting to call off the party because of a rumor that she had just overheard in the stables, she pulled in a breath of resignation and placed the catalogue on the table next to the crystal bowl.
                She would go through with it but she would not enjoy herself knowing that Father had planned her party as a bazaar for eager suitors.  She was not a heifer taken to market or to be sold out for breeding.  And she would never allow any man to use a ring, whether it is through the nose or on a finger, to force her to follow his lead.       
                Turning the catalogue around on the table and closing the paper cover, she read the ornate inscription as her fingers traced the letters.
                ‘Cox & Corbett Treasures & Trinkets, Albany, New York’ were printed in large, bold letters which would catch the eye of anyone within fifty feet of the book.  She knew this because after she left the