Although most recently Mrs. Onassis, the staff at Viking Press still called her Mrs. Kennedy. It was to be expected, she guessed. In her office, she gazed out the window at the Manhattan streets below.
It was raining, a wet April afternoon. She thought about those early days in the White House, so much to accomplish. Then that dark day.
She shook her head to clear it. Back to her editing job. She slashed the copy with her red pencil. Who did this author think he was? Philip Roth? She absently hummed a song from Camelot to herself.
It was raining, a wet April afternoon. She thought about those early days in the White House, so much to accomplish. Then that dark day.
She shook her head to clear it. Back to her editing job. She slashed the copy with her red pencil. Who did this author think he was? Philip Roth? She absently hummed a song from Camelot to herself.
