Secrets of the Morning (Cutler 2)

"The important thing is," he said, looking at me, his dark eyes narrowed with firmness, "it won't happen to you again."

I nodded, relieved that Jimmy had forgiven me.

"I love you, Jimmy. I really do. I didn't realize how much I did and I'm sorry."

"Just don't eat the way you did today," he joked. "I can't afford it."

It felt so good to laugh again, to be able to relax and feel comfortable with someone, especially someone who brought sunshine into your life. Oddly enough, as we traveled farther and farther away from The Meadows, I found myself hating Miss Emily less than I pitied her.

But I didn't have a smidgen of pity for Grandmother Cutler. She was such a vile, evil woman! In my mind no one could have been more of a villain. The same forces that had created Miss Emily had created her, only she had an added power—she could get most people to respect her and she had been able to achieve great things in the real world. There was no doubt that she was a formidable foe. My heart began to thump harder and harder as we drew closer and closer to Cutler's Cove and our inevitable confrontation. I hardly noticed how beautiful a late spring day it was with a deep blue sky and puffs of milk-white clouds. In my troubled mind, it seemed the world was gray and dark again and there would be no warm sunlight until I was reunited with my baby.

The first sight of the ocean sent a chill up my spine. A little while later I saw the familiar road sign announcing we were about to enter the seaside resort village of Cutler's Cove. Nothing looked any different to me. This early in the season, the long street with its small stores and restaurants looked quiet and quaint. There was little traffic and only a few people on the sidewalks here and there. It had a relaxed, lazy atmosphere about it, but to me it was like passing through the eye of a storm. The pretty

shops, the boats and sailboats down at the dock, the rich green lawns and peaceful streets were all part of a deception, for the heart of Cutler's Cove pulsed with evil—Grandmother Cutler's evil.

"Almost there," Jimmy said and smiled his smile of encouragement. "Don't worry," he added. "We're going to get to the bottom of it all and settle it once and for all."

I took a deep breath and nodded. We came to the coastline that curved inward and provided the guests of the Cutler's Cove Hotel with their own private beach, a beach of white sand that always looked combed clean. Even the waves that came up approached the shore softly, tenderly, as if the ocean were afraid of attracting the wrath of the powerful matron who ruled this kingdom by the sea. I could almost hear her voice and see her face when I read the sign declaring this beach was RESERVED FOR CUTLER COVE HOTEL GUESTS ONLY!

Jimmy turned up the long drive and the hotel itself loomed ahead of us, sitting on a little rise, the manicured grounds gently rolling down before it. The three-story Wedgwood blue mansion with milk-white shutters and a large wraparound porch looked strangely quiet. The unlit Japanese lanterns swung softly in the breeze. Only some of the grounds personnel were visible off to the side, pruning some hedges and planting some flowers. I didn't, as I expected, see any guests sitting out on the porch, nor did I see any around the two small gazebos or sitting on the wooden and stone benches or strolling past the fountains and flower beds.

"It doesn't look open for business," Jimmy remarked.

It was mid-afternoon, so I knew people weren't at lunch or dinner.

"No, it doesn't," I said. I was nervous enough as it was. Seeing something unusual only added to it.

Jimmy pulled up in front and parked. For a moment, I just sat there staring out the window at the hotel's front entrance, recalling that morning when I left the hotel to go off to a performing arts school in New York City. I had been filled with fear and excitement the day I left, but I clearly recalled the expressions on the faces of Clara Sue and Philip, my mother and Randolph, and especially Grandmother Cutler. All those faces flashed before me now.

"Ready?" Jimmy asked.

"Yes," I said firmly and got out of the car. We walked up the steps quickly and entered the lobby of the hotel. The moment we did so, I knew something was definitely not right. Except for Mrs. Hill and an assistant behind the reception desk, there was no one in the lobby, not a single person.

"They must be closed," Jimmy remarked, looking around.

I started for the desk. Mrs. Hill looked up as soon as she realized someone had entered the lobby. I saw that her face was etched with worry. She shook her head softly as I approached the desk.

"Oh, you're back from school," she said.

Of course, I realized after she said "school," Grandmother Cutler would let everyone here believe I was still in New York.

"Where are all the guests?" I asked.

"Guests? Oh, you don't know," she said, the corners of her mouth dropping.

"Know what?"

"Your grandmother's had a bad stroke. She's at the hospital and we've closed the hotel for the week. Your father's been so distraught, he's been unable to do anything and your mother . . . well, your mother's very upset."

"A stroke? When did this happen?" I demanded too harshly. She nearly broke into tears. "I mean . . . I didn't know," I said softly.

"Just yesterday. We had only a small number of guests at the time, since we're not really in season yet. Your father gave everyone who was here a full refund and, of course, kept everyone on salary."

I looked at Jimmy. He shook his head, not sure what we should do next.

"Is my father here or at the hospital right now?" I asked.

"He's in his office. He hasn't come out all morning," she said. "He's taking it all very badly. It's good that you've come home," she added. "Perhaps you can be of some help.