Twilight's Child (Cutler 3)

"Best man, huh? Well, that's considerate of him. I guess it's okay. As long as it's okay with you," he added, looking at me slyly. Did he know anything? Had he sensed it somehow? Of course, he remembered when Philip had been my boyfriend at Emerson Peabody, but that was before Philip and I had discovered we were related.

"It's your best man, Jimmy. It has to be your decision," I replied, shifting my eyes down quickly.

"He still has a crush on you, doesn't he, Dawn?" Jimmy asked perceptively.

"I don't think so, Jimmy," I said, and I told him about Betty Ann Monroe.

"Um," Jimmy said, thinking. "We'll see. I guess for now it's all right for him and me to be friends. After all, he's my future brother-in-law, and the future's coming up real fast." Jimmy kissed me and started for the shower.

"Oh," he said. "Something peculiar. Randolph came to the workshop just before and asked me about our inventory of screws and nails. I think he's fixing to count them out one at a time. Can you imagine?"

I told Jimmy what had happened between Randolph and me and my conversation with my mother about it.

"Well, someone better do something about him soon," he said. "It's very sad."

Jimmy had more compassion and concern for Randolph than his own son and wife did, I thought. That was what was sad.

While Jimmy was showering the phone rang. It was Trisha. She was all excited about my wedding and had loads of gossip to tell me about the other students at the Sarah Bernhardt School, as well as about Agnes Morris, our resident mother.

"Nothing's really changed with Agnes," she said. "She's more dramatic than ever and wears cakes and cakes of makeup. Oh, Mrs. Liddy asked after you and was happy to hear the good news. She sends her best," Trisha said.

"Mrs. Liddy. I do miss her. She was so nice to me. Perhaps one day I'll invite her to spend a weekend at Cutler's Cove," I said. "Oh, Trish, I'm looking forward so much to finally seeing you again."

"Same here." There was a pause in our conversation, a short, heavy silence. I knew she had something to tell me. "There was some news about Michael Sutton," she confessed, "but I wasn't sure you wanted to hear it."

"I don't mind," I said quickly. "What is it?"

"Oh, there's always a bunch of gossip in the trade papers about his romances, but he's landed a starring role in a new musical opening in London, and the preview reports have been quite laudatory."

"I'm happy for him," I said quickly.

"I think he's horrible for what he did to you," Trisha snapped.

"I don't want to think about that part of it anymore, Trish. I'm very happy now, and I have Christie. That's all that really matters. Michael couldn't be more out of my life. Why, hearing you talk about him now doesn't even affect me," I lied. Deep in my heart of hearts I would never forget the way Michael had betrayed and abandoned me. I had loved him so, but my love had meant nothing to him.

"I'm glad. Do you think you will ever sing again, Dawn?" she asked.

"I hope so, someday. Right now I have plenty to occupy me between Christie and the hotel."

"I can't wait to see the baby. Who does she look like more?"

"She has some of Michael's looks, but right now she looks more like me," I said, adding another lie, remembering the times when I looked at Christie and saw Michael and how much it hurt as old memories returned to haunt me before I banished them.

"I have to get going," Trisha said. "Oodles of silly things to do. I'll speak to you soon. Bye."

"Bye, Trish."

I sat there for a moment with the receiver still in my hand, Trisha's voice trailing off in my memory like a leaf being carried off in a wind, growing smaller and smaller and smaller until it was gone.

Once I was young and innocent and full of dreams. It brought a smile to my face to recall first arriving in New York, being afraid of the traffic and the people and the tall buildings, and not knowing how to react to the eccentric retired actress, Agnes Morris, who ran our residence. And then Trisha burst into my life and introduced me to all the excitement, the nightlife, the cafes, the shops and museums and the theater. She had come with me to audition for Michael Sutton, who was choosing only a few lucky students to be in his vocal class. Trisha and I had squealed with delight that morning and run up the sidewalks and across the streets, holding hands, our hearts beating madly.

And then we saw him. He looked as if he had stepped off the cover of a fan magazine. I would never forget how light my heart felt when he turned to gaze at me and our eyes met. There were so many promises hanging in the air betwe

en us, ready to be snatched and savored. We had a dream romance, the kind of romance depicted in songs and stories. What music we made when we sang together.

Even now I could still hear his voice.

"Hey," Jimmy said, stepping out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around him. "Why are you sitting there with the phone in your hand, smiling? Is anyone on the phone?"