Secrets of the Morning (Cutler 2)

Trisha looked up from the book she was reading while she relaxed in bed and watched me prepare for my dinner outing with my real family.

"This has to be Clara Sue," Trisha said in what I had come to appreciate as her deadpan style.

"Your room is so small for two people," Clara Sue commented as she twisted her mouth into a look of disgust. "How do you keep out of each other's way?"

"Traffic signals," Trisha said.

"Huh?"

"I don't really care what you think of our room, Clara Sue," I said, turning on her. "Besides, any normal person would have said hello first and waited to be introduced."

"They sent me up to tell you to hurry down," she whined. Then she pivoted and disappeared.

"Sweet thing," Trisha said. "I do sympathize, but try to have a good time."

"That's probably impossible," I said, gazed at myself once more in the mirror and left. As I passed Arthur's door, I saw it was open just a crack and he was peeping out. I didn't stop. Downstairs in the sitting room, my mother was laughing at something Agnes had said. They all turned when I appeared in the doorway.

Randolph was sitting beside my mother. He had his long legs crossed with his graceful hands folded over them and sat back comfortably, his soft mouth in a gentle smile and his blue eyes never looking more warm and bright. His light brown hair looked like it had grayed more at the temples and gray strains were even woven through the flaxen ones. But, he had his perennial dark tan and looked as elegant in his dark blue suit and tie as ever.

I was surprised at how well my mother looked. Her blonde hair lay on her bare, smooth, soft shoulders. She wore her gold necklace with the egg-shaped diamonds and the matching egg-shaped diamond earrings. The glitter in the precious stones matched the glitter in her deep blue eyes. Somehow, she looked even younger to me. It was as if time had no effect on her; she was immune to aging. She had a childlike quality, and her skin was as baby soft and creamy as ever with a healthy tint in her cheeks.

"Oh, how pretty you look, Dawn," she said, her voice dripping with Southern charm and gentility. "Doesn't she look absolutely beautiful, Randolph?"

"Absolutely," he said, nodding and smiling widely, his teeth gleaming white in that brown face.

Clara Sue stood behind them, her arms folded under her heavy breasts, her eyes green with envy.

"We're having such a delightful chat with Agnes, I hate to leave," my mother said.

"Oh, that's so kind of you," Agnes said, "but you mustn't let me delay your reunion."

"We do have reservations," Randolph said, ever the one to worry about schedules.

"Of course," my mother said. She held her hand out and Randolph shot into a standing position and helped her get up. She was wearing a beautiful black silk dress with a sweetheart neckline. Her bosom was lifted so that the rosy tint of her cleavage was visible. It was hard to believe that this woman, my mother, spent so much of her time locked away in her room in bed, an invalid.

She approached me and gave me a quick peck on the cheek. Then everyone said goodbye to Agnes, even Clara Sue, and we left to go to dinner. They had a limousine parked outside.

"You must tell us all about the school," my mother said after we were all settled in the limousine. "It must be so exciting for you to be around so many talented people."

I found it easy to talk about school and realized as I was describing it and my classes and teachers that I was excited about being here. Most of the time I was talking Clara Sue moaned and acted disinterested. She complained about everything at the restaurant and had her meal sent back to be cooked over. No matter what she did, neither my mother nor Randolph chastised her. No one could be more spoiled, I thought.

Randolph described their impending vacation, the ports of call they would visit and how much he and my mother had looked forward to this vacation.

"Randolph hasn't had a real vacation for over a year," my mother said.

I asked no questions about Grandmother Cutler and whenever any references were made to her, I simply ignored them. Until I asked how Sissy was. I would never forget the beautiful songs she sang when she worked. She was a very sweet girl, who felt bad about the way the others had treated me when I first arrived and one of the chambermaids had been fired to make a place for me, someone who really didn't need the work.

"Grandmother fired Sissy," Clara Sue practically bellowed.

"Fired her? But why?" I asked, turning to Randolph. He shook his head.

"She was doing poor work," Clara Sue said with relish.

"That couldn't be true," I insisted, looking at my mother now. From the way she shifted her eyes from mine, I knew the reason lay elsewhere.

"She fired her because she told me where Mrs. Dalton lived, didn't she?" I demanded.

"Mrs. Dalton lived?" Randolph said. He looked at my mother.