Cutler 01 - Dawn

vehemently, but she nodded, believing what she wanted to believe.
    "He came looking for you as soon as he got here, didn't he? I heard him drop his suitcases and go rushing out of his room. Did he find you?" I nodded. "Well, what did he say? Was he angry? Did he feel like a fool?"
    "He's understandably upset."
    "I'll bet. I hope he doesn't forget you are his sister now," she added curtly. She gazed at me a moment. "He didn't kiss you again on the lips, did he?"
    "Of course not," I said, but she looked skeptical. "We both understand what's happened," I added.
    "Um." Her eyes brightened with a new thought. "What did my father say when he net you?"
    "He said . . . he welcomed me to the hotel," I said, "and he told me he would have a long talk with me, but he hasn't yet. He's been very busy."
    "He's always very busy. That's why I get whatever I want. He'd rather give it to me than be bothered.
    "What do you think of Mother?" she asked. "You must have quite an opinion of her." She laughed anticipating. "If one of her fingernails breaks or Mrs. Boston leaves a hairbrush out of place, she has a breakdown. I can just imagine what she was like when she heard about you."
    "I'm sorry she's so nervous and sick so often," said, "because she is very beautiful."
    Clara Sue nodded and folded her arms under her bosom. She was becoming a full-figured girl quickly, her baby fat already softening into what I knew most boys would consider a voluptuous look.
    "Grandmother says she got sick right after you were kidnapped, and the only thing that saved her and made her happy at all again was my birth," she said, obviously proud of that. "They had me as quickly as they could to overcome their grief about losing you, and now you're back," she added, not disguising her note of disappointment. She gazed at me a moment and then smiled again.
    "Grandmother made you into a chambermaid, huh?"
    "Yes."
    "I'm one of the receptionists now, you know," she boasted. "I get dressed up and work behind the counter. I'm letting my hair grow longer this year. Grandmother told me to go to the beautician tomorrow and have it styled," she said, gazing at herself in the mirror. She glanced quickly at me. "All the chambermaids usually cut their hair short. Grandmother likes them to."
    "I'm not cutting my hair short," I said flatly.
    "If Grandmother tells you to, you will. You'll have to, otherwise your hair will be dirty every day anyway. It looks dirty right now."
    I couldn't argue with that. I hadn't washed it for days, not caring about my looks. It was easier to wear the bandanna.
    "That's why I don't do menial jobs," Clara Sue said. "I never did. And now Grandmother thinks I'm pretty enough to be at the front desk and old enough to handle the responsibilities."
    "That's very nice. You're very lucky," I said. "But I'd rather not be meeting a lot of people and forcing smiles anyway," I added. It wiped the condescending leer from her face.
    "Well, I'm sure everyone's embarrassed about all this, and for now they're just trying to hide you from the public," she said curtly.
    I shrugged. It was a very good theory, but I didn't want to show her that what she said might be true. "Maybe."
    "I still can't believe it." She stood up and looked down at me sharply. "Maybe I'll never believe it," she said. She tilted her head to one side and thought for a moment. "Maybe there's still a chance it's not so."
    "Believe me, Clara Sue, I wish more than you that it wasn't."
    That took her back a pace. Her eyebrows lifted.
    "What? Why not? You certainly weren't better of living like a pauper. Now you're a Cutler and you live in Cutler's Cove. Everybody knows who we are. This is one of the finest hotels on the coast," she bragged with what I was beginning to recognize as a family arrogance she had inherited from Grandmother Cutler.
    "Our lives were hard," I admitted, "but we cared about each other and loved each other. I can't help missing my little sister Fern and Jimmy."
    "But they weren't your family, dummy," she said, shaking her head. "Whether you like it or not, we're your family now." I looked away. "Eugenia," she added. I spun around on her self-satisfied smile.
    "That's not my name."
    "Grandmother says it is, and whatever Grandmother says around here, goes," she crooned, moving toward the door. "I've got to get dressed and start my first shift at the front desk." She paused at the door. "There are a number of kids our age who come to the hotel every season. Maybe I'll